The Woman In Me

The Woman In Me

I didn’t used to think I was gay. Never saw myself as gay. I’d searched the word in my Oxford Dictionary, the sixth edition – in paraphrased words: ‘Having feelings for the same sex.’

That isn’t me, I thought.

I was a straight girl trapped inside the body of a boy, I corrected. Now, that’s not being gay. Being gay should transcend just what your physicality dictates, shouldn’t it?


Countless times, I would find myself standing in front of that green-plastic-edged mirror my mum got some time ago from a wedding she wasn’t really supposed to have gone to. These countless times, I saw the same things. The same things that always got me riled up. Made me seek an opportunity to vent and scream and nag.

Why are those nipples still tiny? I’d want to scream. Why isn’t my chest swelling and getting rounder? Above all, can I understand why God (in His infinite mercies, abi?) would give me that brown knob dangling between my thighs?

The contradiction, however, was effortless.

I cannot stand straight on my feet without having to cock a hip. My fingers seem to have a mind of their own as they fly and play about while I talk or try to explain things. I seem to own the runway every- and anywhere. My body frame, despite being male, has a touch of femininity.

“You had better not put on those skinny jeans to follow me. Don’t you know you have a girl’s physique?!” my mum would yell. It became a mantra but over time, she stopped. Duh, I’m not in charge of how my body turns out to be, I would almost want to yell back at her.

I was nicknamed a lot of things by family and friends. First Lady (which I loved), Omekanwanyi, girl-boy, Miss Pepeye, the list goes on. My voice was something else. Let’s just say Beyoncé probably sounds huskier. When I make a call, I have to exhaust a reasonable amount of airtime in trying to explain that it’s a guy and not some girl you’re speaking to. I always preferred panties to boxers (God forbid that I should wear those inflated, unsexy things). I go out and people almost always mistook me for a girl.

So what was happening?

Why wasn’t my physical development fulfilling my destiny as a woman?

I resorted to prayers. Yes, I prayed. After I got that slightly confusing information the doctor revealed to my dad about hormones, I began to pray. Not against the news though, but in favour of the news. Somehow, just maybe, the hormones may kick in and I’d finally get to be who I truly am. Who I truly felt like. Who I was meant to be.

I wanted to be a girl. I craved to be a woman. One with full breasts, a slender waist and well-rounded hips. I would have the grace of Oprah and the attitude of Madonna. I wanted to fall in love with Channing Tatum and get married to him on a hill, putting on a cream-coloured, diamond-crested bridal gown with so many men gushing and falling at my feet, gnashing their teeth in anger and regret for not winning my heart.

I had to be a girl!

But years to come, I’d still wake up a boy gradually turning into a man. I was growing hair on my jaw! The fuck!

Suddenly, that carrot between my thighs seemed to be more alive. What in the world is it looking for, all erect, in the early mornings?! If I were a girl, would I have to worry about morning woodies and their embarrassments? Frustration set in as I realised the hormones weren’t going to work anymore. I grew disillusioned. I had no idea what the doctor said he saw; my voice may be feminine, my body may refuse to be masculine, but I was male. MALE! I mean, you couldn’t overlook the dustings of hair on my skin, the conspicuous bump of the Adam’s apple at the base of my throat. The breast-less torso!

Acquaintances would refer to me as Mister when I would proffer my left hand to be called Miss and eventually, Mrs. I needed that title – the acknowledgement of my femininity. I envied and loved JLo. Worshipped and hated Shakira. Detested and adored Beyoncé. Cursed at and admired Michelle Obama. Women that didn’t have to pray and cry to be who they essentially were. Why would God do this to me and tell me He loves me? How could he give my mum a girl-child after making me a ‘son’?!

Having dealt with this for seven years going on eight, at age sixteen, after I had just won my first phone (a java phone) in a dance competition, I went online in search of answers. I had to know if I was alone in this despicable dilemma. I had to know there were individuals, guys, who felt the way I did. I needed to know there could be a solution to my problem.

That was when I came across the word.

That one word that describes what I felt in great detail, unraveling to me the things I didn’t even think I felt or maybe did but was too ignorant to recognise.


Yes. I felt transgender. Wrongly placed in a body I don’t really have an appreciation for. I look around me and see the pride in the eyes of my male cousins for being male. Rubbish. I see the regret in some of my female cousins for being female. Stupid! These girls, they do not know the gift they have. What they could do with wielding such a wand of beauty and charm. Harry Porter had nothing on them. It’s a man’s world? Who said that? Probably some low-life, street urchin fortunate enough to put together a group of words that appealed to the chauvinistic masses in his time.

It was crushing that I could only wish to menstruate. I could only wish to know what it feels like to have my hymen broken. I wanted to know what it feels like to have my clitoris touched during copulation. To be suckled on by that sweet-looking infant I’d spent breathless hours bringing to the world.

Devastating was the fact that despite this, despite not being a girl, I couldn’t stop my attraction for guys. Maybe I would never stop loving guys, but I could change being gay, right? What makes me gay is the fact that I have a penis instead of a vagina. I didn’t want to have a penis!

I remember saying to myself when I was eight, that one day, I would give my penis out to someone. As a goodwill gift. Helping the needy.

Such mundane thought, I know. But at the time, it brought a smile to my face.

Over time, I got to know I could change my sex. Finally, a flicker of hope. The joy blossomed within me, as I counted the years that’d come by when I’d reach the independent age to go abroad and answer my true nature’s call. This was always my number one priority. The emergence of Laverne Cox, Caitlyn Jenner, Ms. Sahara and the likes only made me more enthusiastic and zealous to accomplish my goal.

However, very recently, I have been having a change of heart. If I’m to do this, I do not want it to be based on wanting to change my physical disposition only. I do not want to do it because I don’t want to tag myself ‘gay’. That makes no sense.

I want to do it to be a true representative of all who have gone or are still going through what I went through while growing. I want to do it for all the right reasons and not convenience. That stage, I haven’t reached yet.

I recently watched the surgical procedure in changing one’s sex, and by God, it was gory. Having never been a fan of blood and gore, that wasn’t a good step to have taken.

I still believe in Trans people. I may one day change my mind and take that bold step, but until then, I would just make do with being gay. Being a feminine gay man. One who unconsciously still flips his head backwards to remove the imaginary sheaf of tresses in his face.

Let the world deal with it. And like a popular transvestite often says: “Gag on my extravaganza, bitches!”

Written by Delle

Previous Deola’s Corner: Another Week Of TV (Edition 20)
Next Disney's 'Zootopia' has a lot of LGBT subtext

About author

You might also like

Our Stories 45 Comments


I saw him even before he saw me. He was an ugly man by every standard – short, scrawny and as black as charcoal. I had no interest in him

Our Stories 36 Comments

The Hilarious Piece About The Prayer

Originally published on * So it was my last day in my village, near Owerri, Nigeria. In four days, no kinsman or woman had asked me the dreaded marriage

Our Stories 26 Comments

About Angelina Jolie And The Movie ‘First They Killed My Father’ Through The Eyes of a Nigerian

The following is an incredibly moving piece written by Nigerian writer and filmmaker, Jude Idada on his Facebook timeline. It is not LGBT-related – or perhaps it is – but


  1. Mandy
    June 18, 05:56 Reply

    This is the most vulnerable piece I’ve read in KD all year! I can imagine how tough this must’ve been for you. To identify to oneself and then to others (even in the community) as Trans has got to be A LOT harder than identifying as gay or lesbian.

  2. pete
    June 18, 07:19 Reply

    This piece came from a deep personal space. You’ll need mental fortitude on this journey.

  3. Arabian Princess
    June 18, 08:05 Reply

    This is so me right now. I would wear my mother’s and sister’s clothes and would feel that rush of adrenaline; reassuring me that this is who I’m meant to be. The journey towards sex change is a long one especially in a country like ours.
    I was caught crossdressing one day and was taken to see the psychiatrist. The man prescribed some hormonal checks but when we got to the diagnostic center, one of my father’s friend who works there said they should not do it, stating that “I’m a man” and that they might not like the results.
    That was how we headed home, me feeling dejected with my parents advising me to man_up and act like one because islamically, its wrong to cross dress. I think this is where I became irreligious

    • Delle
      June 18, 12:23 Reply

      Religion again. The bane of all our problems

  4. ambivalentone
    June 18, 08:18 Reply

    I think I outgrew my trans tendencies. Maybe cos I never thot I was a woman trapped, but Ariel (pre-human transformation) trapped in my body. I outgrew Ariel cos bitch loved d world above and I just couldn’t deal. But i’d really wanna know if this thought train is what makes gay effetes think they are trans. I.ask myself if I would choose surgery given half d chance and I still say NO. Maybe its society colored, maybe its religion tinged, but other than fuller hips, there’s nothing more I’d want. Taking it up d arse feels better than getting a vagina.

    • Delle
      June 18, 12:27 Reply

      Lool! Who says taking it up the arse is better than that with a veejayjay? Hian.
      Anyway, I don’t believe all gay femme boys think they are trans. There are some that gym to man-up but can’t do away with the feminine mannerisms. It takes more than a catwalk to think you’re trans.

  5. miztadiol
    June 18, 08:33 Reply

    This post came from deep within. I guess we all had similar experiences. I know how many times I would tell my friend when we were much younger, that I would walk like a girl and he would call out to me, like he wanted to ask me out to be his Gf. Ovcos this happened usually at night. Such memories

    • Pink Panther
      June 18, 08:38 Reply

      We all had similar experiences? There’s the coming-into-your-gay experiences and then there’s the realizing-theres-a-woman-in-you experiences. They’re not the same.

  6. Bobby
    June 18, 09:06 Reply

    i once thought i was a mermaid..buh when i step into water..well, we all know d rest!

  7. Absalom
    June 18, 09:43 Reply

    Aww, this is very relatable, Delle.

    I particularly love what you did separating maleness (having a penis etc) from how a person perceives his own gender identity (on a spectrum, I guess?)

    I have never questioned my gender or even thought of changing it, but having grown up effeminate, I can relate to what it’s like to be in the company of guys (regular, typical guys) and feel odd, different.

    Even as an adult I still struggle to figure out the dynamics of male camaraderie. My early writings were about women; it’s like I understand the feminine psyche much better than I understand the masculine one. ?

    People often say women are complex but lately I’ve been thinking that men are the complex gender, at least for me. ? I told a friend once that sometimes I don’t understand boys until I behold their hardened penis. ?

    I’ve been putting off writing about this; you beat me to it. So thank you, Delle! ???

      • Lyanna
        August 18, 18:44 Reply

        Great writing skills, indeedy!

  8. MagDiva
    June 18, 11:13 Reply

    Thanks for sharing a piece of you Delle.

  9. Onyx Godwin
    June 18, 12:51 Reply

    Funny enough,despite my effeminacy,I’ve never wanted to be a girl,i don’t want a vagina or boobs or anything like that,though i loveeee wearing heels and mascara ,but that’s just it for me,in my next life,I’d want to be a woman tho.

  10. Brian Collins
    June 18, 13:03 Reply

    Wow, wow, wow. This is really deep. Thank you for opening up like this Delle.

  11. Dimkpa
    June 18, 13:37 Reply

    Thanks for sharing your story.
    I always wondered whether there are transgender people amongst us, now I know.
    It is interesting to read how you want to give away your penis while I consider mine a very important part of me.
    I do hope you get to look like and be your authentic self.

    • Delle
      June 18, 14:01 Reply

      “It is interesting to read how you want to give away your
      penis while I consider mine a very important part of me.”

      Oh Dimkpa. Lol.
      Thanks love.

  12. kacee
    June 18, 13:48 Reply

    Omg i love this, i feel like crying already. Bia Delle come and have my veejayjay *winks*.

  13. SillyAnonymous
    June 18, 14:18 Reply

    Favorite part of my childhood was dressing up with the girls after dinner. We’d fix our shirts on our heads and contort them into various hair styles and strut the imaginary runways. Ma, childless yet the mother of everyone else, always named the winners, which was mostly me. 😀
    I guess she saw through our childhood plays of imitation because one sunny day, she called at me from across the compound.
    “Is it not too hot for that thing on your head, eh? Come, this child, are you sure you are not homo?”

    It was the first time I heard the word. And I’d just learned to use a dictionary.

    Excerpt from ‘Whatever It Was I Was Writing For Pinks’

    Hey Delle. Good job.

    • Delle
      June 18, 14:39 Reply

      XO sweetheart. Looking forward to your entry.

  14. zilayefa
    June 18, 14:42 Reply

    Beautiful storyy….. it brought soo much laughter to my face and i really do understand it all. I am an effeminate gay man and i have slowly but steadily grown into being comfortable with it. i used to fight myself….i still do. once in a yl i miss my steps when i am amongst men folks. I open my mouth and public and speak and every where goes quiet….i begin to hear whispers and hurting laughter….i am just a little bit over 20 and this plays everyday. I have grown to take things as they are. To be content and be happy with me. I feel like a girl inside too, but i love my male body too. I feel very much balanced…. like a hybrid of some sorts….lol…i think there is a term for people like me… Intersexual? i don’t know sha. I love what i have become. There is a whole lot of scars but they remind me of my journey….of who i must be, of what is most important to me….. thanks for the beautiful article

  15. chuck
    June 18, 16:15 Reply

    Did you give up on cross dressing and performing “femaleness” too?

    • Delle
      June 18, 22:08 Reply

      Confusing question. Give up ‘femaleness?’. Confusing.

  16. Martin
    June 18, 17:23 Reply

    Masculinity is a faces sword, feminine dudes always take the back door

  17. sensei
    June 18, 18:10 Reply

    I love this! Thanks for sharing. Imagine my surprise when I saw your name at the end.

  18. Bain
    June 18, 21:57 Reply

    I’m a huge feme guy,but basically people say mine is cute,guys flirt wit me (well just play play ooh),n I don’t take em too seriously,n girls want to date my (am bisex)….bt dis article changes my perspective totally,I naw know am lucky to av d kinda life I av.

    • Delle
      June 19, 13:32 Reply

      Means more to me than you know, Bain

  19. Law
    June 19, 10:39 Reply

    Oh delle…. I cud relate to this. How I grew up. Although my mum always shielded me from homophobic slurs and once beat up a house girl who called me boy-girl. I was effeminate growing up…. It was a tormentous journey….. From secondary skul classmates telling me am a fag to the long stares of neighbour….. But I bless mummy dearest for always telling me am perfect d way I am and confronting anyone who made me feel bad….. She wud give me her heels den and her brown powder. Oh those days. Some how I outgrew the fem guy in me but these emotional scars remind me of my journey. Thanks again delle.

    • Delle
      June 19, 13:33 Reply

      What I would give to have such a mum (love mine to bits though), but you really are lucky to have had her. Kisses dearie.

  20. Sheldon Cooper
    June 20, 13:09 Reply

    I think this is the best piece I’ve read on KD ever. Thanks Delle for sharing a piece of your life. I learnt a lot.

  21. bryannnn
    June 20, 23:55 Reply

    I am bookmarking this piece!!!!
    This is by far, the simplest, concise and understandable definition of transgender and its major difference 4rm gay…… Kudos bro!!!!

    • Delle
      June 21, 22:14 Reply

      You, Bryan, are a durling!

Leave a Reply