Lesotho: The stone that has been rejected turns out to be most important of them all
I was born and raised in Maputsoe. After losing my parents at a young age, my siblings stepped in to raise me. I was assigned female at birth, but I have always identified as a transgender man. As a child, I never felt different from other kids; life felt normal then. It was only in high school that things changed. My teacher mocked me by calling me “Tomboy,” and other students laughed at me, calling me “John” after a book titled Miss John, which told the story of a girl who behaved like a boy. That period was the beginning of the challenges that would shape my journey.
Despite the teasing, high school brought one beautiful moment; my first love. I approached a girl I liked, and she didn’t reject me. She loved me back, and for a while, it felt like everything made sense. But coming out to my siblings shattered that peace. Instead of acceptance, I was disowned. They dragged me before the village chief and council, declaring to the community that I was a disgrace who should be chased out of the village. It was one of the most painful experiences of my life.
In those dark moments, my strength came from God. With His help, I found the courage to stand firm and say, “I am not going anywhere.” I refused to allow anyone to change who I am. Around that time, I discovered an organisation that worked with the LGBTIQ community, offering programs on sexual orientation, gender identity, and gender expression. I volunteered, helping raise awareness and educate others about our existence. That space gave me purpose, and it helped me find my voice.
Over time, things began to shift. The stone that the builders rejected truly became the cornerstone. Today, my siblings and I are on good terms. The community that once wanted to exile me now respects me. They recognise and accept me as a man; I attend funerals dressed in my full masculine attire, and no one questions it anymore. I’ve even been elected as secretary in our local office. The journey wasn’t easy, but it brought growth for all of us.
The challenges I faced coming out, the rejection, being taken to the chief, and almost being chased from the village, remain the hardest part of my story. But those trials shaped me into an activist, a voice for the voiceless. In Maputsoe today, being an LGBTIQ person is less of a challenge than before, even though some people still don’t fully understand us. Acceptance is a journey, not a destination.
To anyone going through what I went through, I want to say this: keep going. Even when the world misunderstands you, your truth is still valid. My hope now is to ensure that young LGBTIQ children never experience the pain I faced. I want them to grow up without fear, without shame, and without the trauma of rejection. This is my mission, to educate, to advocate, and to make sure the next generation walks an easier path than I did.
I am an activist now. A voice for those who cannot yet speak. And I stand proudly in the identity that almost cost me everything.
