A City of 15 Million Stories

Bangkok is a city of a million faces and a million stories.  Each person lives a life independent with his or her own complications, anxieties, depressions and laments.  Joy often gives way to a daily existence of life and work interwoven in a fabric of traffic and noise.  Every day when I awaken I feel like I want to explore and understand.  I want to comprehend what drives each individual.  I want to learn about their lives however joyful or miserable.  I think in a hidden voyeuristic sort of way it encourages me to look beyond myself and discover a world I might otherwise never see.

One day while walking down a busy Bangkok street the city of a million stories decided to give me a glimpse into a very different life. One of the great curiosities of Thailand for the Western mind is what here is known colloquially as the “Third Sex.”  In the west we view transgender issues as interwoven with gay rights.  It exists as a subset of the society.  Most people when confronted by it look on with self righteous curiosity or worse, laugh.   If we can be honest western men don’t often make very beautiful women.  God help me if I had such an inclination, I would positively turn beauty on it’s head.

It happened most unexpectedly as I navigated market stands filled with food and just about anything else the mind can conjure.   I am always on the look out for something unique and with each passing day I am learning to read Thai better.  My eyes still don't welcome the sight of a sign bearing Thai script instead searching for any English that might give a clue.  The sight of English is usually welcome because it yields a full understanding as opposed to an educated guess.  On this day one such sign grabbed my eyes and pulled me in.   “Cosmetic and Sex Change Surgery,  Doctor Thep Vechavisit.”    Outside was a cue of women waiting to go in.  At least I thought they were women.  A closer examination found a mix of women and those wanting to be.  Each had a face colored with nervousness.  The clinic was in a shoddy concrete building and as the front door opened I could see the waiting room was part storage area filled with boxes of medical supplies.  Inside women seemed to wait anxiously for their turn.  Behind a counter were clinic employees taking cash payments.  There were no forms being signed, no registration information.  No insurance cards being flashed or authorizations being given.

I felt like a reporter from the New York Times that just happened on a big story.  I wanted to go inside yet I felt being a Farang (white person) would make me so out of place.  It is strange; at times here in Thailand I think the third sex is more normal than I am.  I found myself fixated on the sight.  Here were a hundred stories before me of happiness, anxiousness and torment.  I couldn’t imagine being in their shoes.  I wouldn’t want a Band-Aid placed on my finger there let alone be afforded breasts or even something more complicated than that!  I hoped for their sake wherever the operating room was it looked a hell of a lot better than my street view of their waiting room.

Still the moment impressed upon me the desperation these women must have felt.  To risk what they were risking spoke to me of how deeply inside their voices must cry out to them.  It simply can’t be easy.  Moments like these always bring me back to the ignorant of my own country who cry out their words of hate predicated by their own insecurities and fears completely oblivious to the feelings of others. 

I was beginning to feel odd so transfixed by this place yet as I stood in my vantage point I reminded myself of my temporal and largely insignificant nature.  In any minute some fifty people must walk by in front of me. Each had their own mission, their own routine, their own life.

In Thailand and I should say to a lesser extent the Philippines, the “Third Sex” is largely an accepted part of the society.  They live their lives intermixed with everyone else and are not looked down upon or ostracized in any way.   They are who they are.  It doesn’t mean that society and life here is easy for them.  If anything they are subjected to issues of beauty far more than women.  They are expected to be perfect and I can only imagine how life must become harder as they age and lose the tightness and beauty of youth.

I have struggled with what to even call these young “Lady Boy’s.”  I am not sure I like that term because in truth what they want to be are women.  They wouldn’t be living their lives as they do if they didn’t.  Every step they take in life is an attempt to walk along this path. 

I live my life trying to insert myself into the minds of others and understand the challenges and turmoil’s they face.  I can hardly begin to comprehend how it must feel to live your life as if you are in the wrong body.  The ignorant will say it is a choice but it simply can’t be.  I cannot believe any human would willfully bring this upon himself or herself unless there is a voice deep down inside crying out for something different.  On several occasions I have spoken to these girls and even count a couple of them as my friends.  When I listen to them speak I can’t help but accept that there is a mystery deeply coded within our genes.  Sometimes in life our bodies and our inner-selves just don’t fit together.   Nothing in life is simple.  Nothing is black and white.  Sexuality simply cannot be the same either. 

The nature of Thailand and how they treat this subset of society has become something I very much admire about the place.  When a lady boy walks down the street they often don’t receive as much as a second look.  If they do it is simply because they are stunningly beautiful.   I think at times women are envious of them.  They see them as a form of complete femininity in perfection, design and orchestration that many women are loath to emulate.    Their make-up is perfect, their hair is perfect and their style is immaculate.  The one thing they don’t have is the female body.  They do their best to compensate with hormones but they can only take them so far. 

Eventually if their journey can afford it, it takes them to cosmetic surgery and all that goes with that.  Bangkok is known the world over as a hub for sexual reassignment surgery.  I would imagine without question some of the best doctors are here.  I still suspect that it was during his recent trip to Thailand Bruce Jenner decided to take the leap to the other side.  I can imagine there is a top tier to this cosmetic artistry. 

I also know full well that for most in Thai's top tier is simply not an option.  There are a few Thais that are stunningly rich but the vast majority just get by.  They live their life from day to day and if the lady boys among them ever reach the state of wanting to fully change there is no way they can afford it on the level of the super rich.  So in their desperation to find themselves where do they go?  The answer was before me, “Cosmetic and Sex Change Surgery,  Doctor Thep Vechavisit.” 

Some of the young women were accompanied by friends some by boyfriends and still others by what appeared to be mothers.  As they passed I looked at their mother’s faces and wondered how difficult it was for them.   I think when we as parents have a child we think of sexuality as fixed.  Yet here some years later they are reconsidering everything.  They exchange son’s for daughters.  Perhaps in truth they never really were sons, maybe they knew that from the outset. 

At times women would leave the waiting room wearing Hello Kitty smocks to speak on the phone outside.  A young girl entered the clinic dressed yet with bandages creeping out above her neckline and holding a bottle with what looked like blood running into it.    Other’s would leave clutching an IV bottle.  I wondered what fear must be going through the women’s minds still waiting to enter and how incredibly brave they must be. 

In America the lady boy in Thailand is awarded a freakish depiction.  It is a joke often involving a drunken straight man and a night of debauchery.  I have always laughed along with everyone but I can’t help but feel a little uncomfortable at the depiction of these women.

I knew I should move on yet for an hour I stood before the clinic transfixed.  I watched as a woman hobbled out and was helped into a wheel chair.  From the looks of things I think her ordeal was in the lower extremity.  As a male I shuddered having a pretty good idea what was no longer there.  

I have to say that of all those that I watched waiting and those leaving not a single woman  I saw had a tear in her eye.  None moaned or otherwise displayed the pain they must have felt.  They seemed to take it all in stride.  For them the pain was an inconvenience.  A momentary set back for a dream come true. 

Deep inside we as human beings just want to be accepted and valued for who we are.  At the very least this day gave me a lesson in courage and respect.  It illustrated love and support and above all tolerance and acceptance.  Were the world to learn this lesson it would truly be a remarkable place.  The day in front of that Bangkok clinic reminded me of what it is like to have the courage to be yourself.  I think that is a battle most of us struggle with our whole lives and I can’t help but admire these women in transition for the courage it must take to be who they really are.  I can only hope in my life I could ever be so brave.