Mauritius: There's still a long way to go
Brief description of your family background.
I grew up in a modest Muslim family in Mauritius. My parents are both educated professionals who worked in international companies, and they placed a strong emphasis on academic success, discipline, and kindness toward others. Religion played an important role in our upbringing — we were encouraged to study and practice Islam — but there was also room for certain choices, such as how we dressed, as long as we remained respectful. While the environment was loving in many ways, it was also quite traditional and conservative, especially when it came to topics like relationships and sexuality, which were often treated as taboo. My upbringing shaped both my strengths and the challenges I later had to face in expressing my true self.
How did your family influence who you are?
My family instilled in me a strong foundation rooted in education, discipline, and values like humility, kindness, and perseverance. My parents’ professional paths exposed me early on to the importance of ambition and self-reliance. At the same time, growing up in a religious household shaped my moral compass — Islam taught me empathy, patience, and respect for others. However, that same environment also placed limits on how I could express myself, particularly around gender and sexuality. Certain topics were seen as shameful or simply not open for discussion. That tension between the values I internalized and the parts of myself I couldn’t express created an inner conflict that has deeply influenced my personal journey. It pushed me to question, to seek understanding beyond what I was taught, and ultimately, to forge my own path — one that still honors the values I was raised with, but also embraces the person I’ve become.
Please describe yourself — how do you see yourself?
Today, I feel like I carry the best of both worlds. The teachings of the Quran and Islam gave me a strong moral foundation. I’ve learned about kindness, compassion, humility, and generosity. Islam taught me the value of patience and perseverance during hardship, the importance of intention behind actions, the beauty of justice, and the responsibility to care for others, especially the vulnerable. I also draw strength from the emphasis on seeking knowledge and self-reflection, both of which continue to guide me today. At the same time, studying abroad, and I earned my degree in the United States, it opened my eyes to the wider world. I was exposed to ideas around gender, race, privilege, and intersectionality in ways I never could have imagined at home. Living in a more open society also allowed me to express myself freely, to dress in a more masculine way without fear of judgment, to embrace my queer identity while still identifying as Muslim. That balance between spiritual grounding and personal freedom has shaped the person I am today. I don’t think I would’ve had the same opportunities for self-discovery here in Mauritius. Even now, I still feel quite restricted living here.
What were the challenges you encountered in expressing yourself?
Self-expression came mainly through my physical appearance. I experimented with both feminine and masculine styles over the years, but deep down, I’ve always felt most comfortable presenting as androgynous or more on the masculine side. Unfortunately, that’s still considered inappropriate in the Muslim community, and it's not accepted by my parents to this day. My mother would often say I’m trying to look like a man and that I should embrace my beauty, let my hair grow, and wear dresses. Verbalizing how I felt often led to fights, so eventually, I stopped saying anything. I still express myself, but depending on the event, especially cultural or religious ones, I sometimes have to compromise and wear a dress to avoid conflict.
How did you stand up for yourself?
I tried many times, but those conversations usually ended in major conflict. When my family discovered I was dating a girl, they threatened to disown me. The only thing that brought me peace was moving out and living on my own, that’s when I finally felt I could be myself. Every now and then, I still remind my parents that I may look a certain way, but I haven’t changed as a person. I still hold the same values they taught me. I’m not a bad person, I just want to live honestly.
What support did you receive and what challenges did you face?
The lack of support from my family, especially the fights and threats from my parents, took a tremendous toll on my emotional and mental health. I found it hard to concentrate at work, my productivity dropped, and I felt like I was slowly falling apart. The constant pressure and fear also affected my personal relationship — I didn’t know how to manage love when I was constantly trying to survive. I was scared of losing someone I loved, and despite our efforts, the relationship eventually ended. It was even harder because she was grieving the recent loss of her mother to cancer. The entire journey was a layered trauma for both of us. Eventually, I left my job — it no longer made me happy, and I wasn’t in the right emotional space to continue. Around the same time, I was also dealing with physical health issues and had to undergo surgery. It felt like everything was happening at once — emotionally, mentally, and physically — and I was on the verge of a breakdown. In terms of support, I wish I had received more from my siblings. One of them initially tried to support me, but when our parents reacted with anger and threats, she distanced herself. Thankfully, my friends became my greatest support system. They offered me a safe space, unconditional love, and the freedom to be myself. I also had the chance to meet someone from the LGBTQIA+ community who supported me and helped me see myself more clearly — that connection changed my life in profound ways. Their presence and understanding made me feel seen, accepted, and less alone.
How did you overcome the challenges?
I don’t know exactly how, but I kept going. Even when I felt like I had nothing left in me, something inside kept me moving forward. Despite everything, I couldn’t bring myself to let go of my family completely. As painful as the past had been, they were still important to me. With time and space, we slowly managed to rebuild a relationship and get back on better terms — not perfect, but better. I also decided to take a solo trip abroad, to step away from everything and find myself again. That time alone helped me reset and breathe. Coming back, I focused on healing. Even though I wasn’t feeling strong emotionally, I knew I had what it took to move forward professionally. I decided to launch my own business, partly because I needed financial stability, and partly because I believed in my skills and knowledge. It wasn’t easy, and I wasn’t at my best mentally, but I did it anyway. This has been my personal journey - full of pain, growth, setbacks, and strength. It’s unique to me, but I hope it serves as a reminder to others: even in our darkest moments, we have the power to keep going, to rebuild, and to choose ourselves.
How do you currently see Mauritian society?
There’s still a long way to go. The comments I see online are full of hate, ignorance, and misinformation. People have been taught that being queer is bad, and they react out of fear without understanding what they’re rejecting. There’s no room for nuance - being both Muslim and queer, for example, is seen as impossible or insane. People don't understand why Pride is important, or what LGBTQIA+ advocacy is about. They think it’s an agenda to influence or "convert" others, instead of seeing it as a fight for basic human dignity. Trans people in particular are often dehumanized and met with zero empathy. That said, the younger generation gives me hope - they are more open, more informed, and more accepting. They talk about these issues more freely, and that’s a promising sign.
How do you envision Mauritian society?
I believe that with continuous education and awareness campaignsand the support of the younger generation — we can change minds. We may not gain full acceptance right away, but we can work toward respect, empathy, and coexistence. The biggest barrier is still the stronghold of religious beliefs combined with a lack of education. These ideas are passed down through generations, so our priority should be educating the next one.
How can you contribute to your vision of Mauritian society?
I contribute every day, in both big and small ways. I speak up when I can, share information, and engage in meaningful conversations. Sometimes my presence alone is a form of advocacy — showing up to events in a suit, being unapologetically myself, and showing people that I’m still the same person, just more comfortable and confident. That alone challenges perceptions. Many people lack the confidence to do that, and I hope I can show that it’s possible. I also use my skills in marketing and communication to support organisations that work for LGBTQIA+ rights in Mauritius. That’s how I try to amplify the movement.
What support do you need to achieve your vision of society?
What I need — what we all need — is for people to truly listen. For society to be open to conversations, even if they disagree. I wish workplaces would evaluate us based on our skills and character, not our sexual orientation. I wish families and friend groups had more open discussions about queerness, rather than treating it like a taboo. I hope that more people will trust in the work we do — in activism, education, and community support — and recognize that we’re not here to disrupt society but to make it safer and more inclusive for everyone.
