My Mother is a Transvestite

Silhouette Ana

In the middle of the room flooded with morning sunlight, Ana prepared a large white canvas on top of a painting leg. The light bounces gently off the cream-colored walls, providing warmth to the spacious living room. From the open window, the sound of water gurgling from the garden behind the house entered the room, accompanying the chirping of birds that greeted the morning.

Ima, who was sitting on the sofa while reading a book, turned her head towards Ana. “Bu, what will you paint today?” ask with curiosity.

Ana smiles, “I want to paint us, your family.” His words were soft, filled with affection. He took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly, as if trying to calm himself.

Ima put down her book and approached Ana, "I've never seen you paint yourself before. It's going to be interesting.”

Ana looked at her color palette, picked up some colors and mixed them carefully. Gently, he began to touch his brush onto the canvas, drawing the initial lines that would become the frame of the painting. Each brush stroke was filled with feeling; steady yet gentle hand movements, ensuring every detail was perfect.

From across the room, Yusuf who was playing video games turned his head and said, "You will definitely make it look amazing, Mom."

Ana looked over, her eyes twinkling. "Thank you, Yus. But the most important thing is not how it looks, but the feelings we pour into it."

For a moment, Ana was silent. Secretly, his past memories resurfaced. He recalled his childhood, when he often sat in the backyard of his grandmother's house, painting the surrounding landscape. The cool morning air, the scent of freshly bloomed flowers, and an irreplaceable sense of peace. She recalled how art became an escape for her from harsh reality; how brushes and paints became her best friend when feeling lonely.

When Ana's hands began to tremble, Ima quickly approached her, placing her hands over her mother's. “Are you okay, Mom?” ask her with a voice full of worry.

Ana looked at Ima, her eyes glazed over. "Yes, honey. I'm just thinking about the past." He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "But now, I have you. You guys are the reason why I want to paint this portrait."

Accompanied by Ima by her side, Ana continues to paint with feeling and dedication. Every detail, from the frown on the forehead to the look of the eyes, was painstakingly painted. It was as if, through the painting, he wanted to capture the fond memories with his little family.

As the sun began to sink and the room began to darken, Ana finally completed the initial skeleton of the painting. Satisfied, he stepped back, admiring his work. Although it was far from over, Ana knew that the painting would be one of her best works.

As the morning light passed through the window, Ana sat in front of her canvas, her eyes fixed on Joseph and Ima who were playing in the courtyard. He could see shady trees surrounding the courtyard, his shadow playing around on the green grass. The sunlight shone on the faces of his two children, making the glare of his eyes but also providing inspiration for painting.

"Yusuf, do you remember the first time we met?" asked Ana in a soft voice, without taking her eyes off the canvas.

Yusuf looked at Ana with a puzzled expression, "Hmmm, I remember there are a lot of toys," he replied with a laugh.

Ana smiled, recalling that moment. "You're so innocent. Your big eyes are always full of curiosity. You always wonder about everything" he said, painting the details of Joseph's eyes.

Ima approached the canvas, her long hair scattered, in the light breeze of the morning which made her look like a little angel. "What about me, Mom? How was the first time we met?" ask Ima in a gurgling voice.

Ana bit her lips, trying to hold back the emotions. "Oh, Ima. You always look happy during the day. But at night, you cry a lot. I've always tried to make you feel good, singing lullabies to you."

Ima held Ana, "I know, Mom. I always feel warm and safe in your arms."

Ana's eyes glazed over as she added detail to Ima's face. His hand movements were so gentle and soulful, reflecting his deep affection.

Raka, their newly moved neighbor, who happened to be passing by, paused for a moment. "Wow, what an amazing painting, Miss Ana. Their faces looked so alive!"

Ana turned her head, "Thank you, Raka. This painting is my heart's offering to them."

Raka nodded in understanding, "That's clearly visible from every stroke of your brush."

Ima sat down beside Ana, holding her hand. "Mom, thank you for painting us. I know this isn't just a picture, it's a story about us."

Ana rubs Ima's head, "Yes, baby. Every detail here is a memory, of how we became a family."

Joseph, who now sits on the other side of Ana, adds, "And about how we will always be together, no matter what happens."

The three of them clenched each other, feeling the warmth of family love. And in the midst of that togetherness, Ana knew that the painting would be the most important work of her life, a symbol of love and sacrifice.

A pallet plate with the remnants of wet paint is located next to Ana. A warm afternoon sunlight pierced through the room, illuminating his focused face. The pastel-colored walls gave off a calmness, as if supporting Ana in her creation. Outside, the leaves of the tree sway gently, dancing to the rhythm of the wind, accompanying Ana in solitude.

Ana took a deep breath, staring at the canvas that was almost finished. Now it is time to paint for yourself. With trembling hands, he began to describe his silhouette. It was as if every brushstroke depicted a long, twisting journey.

In silence, Ana's heartbeat sounded real. She recalled the first time she realized her feelings about gender identity, fear of rejection, and her decision to live life as a woman.

Suddenly, a phone ring broke his daydream. He walked towards the table while rubbing a hand full of paint onto the apron. "Hello?"

"Ana's? It's me, Lina," a familiar voice sounded across the line.

"Lina's? It's been a long time," Ana responded with a surprised yet joyful tone.

"I saw your post on social media. I saw you painting a family portrait," Lina said in a soft tone.

Ana sat down, "Yeah, I'm painting Joseph's face, Ima, and now me."

Lina paused for a moment before saying, "I remember we used to talk about our future. About how we both struggle with our identities. You always wanted to be a mother, while I..."

"You chose your own path" Ana cut, recalling their struggles together in the past.

There was a moment of silence, then Lina said, "But you, Ana. I saw how you grew up. How do you face all the obstacles and be a mother to two beautiful children."

Ana gulped, her eyes glazed over, "That's not easy, Lina. Many times I feel unworthy, unable. But when I saw the faces of Joseph and Ima, I knew I had to be strong for them."

Lina smiled gently across the line, "That's what makes you special, Ana. You always find strength in yourself, even when the world is against you."

Ana sighed, "Thank you, Lina. I need to hear that, especially now."

After their conversation ended, Ana returned to her canvas, with renewed vigor. Carefully, he began to paint the details of his face. Her eyes were always looking hopeful, her lips were often smiling even though her heart was grieving, and the fine lines on her face were telling the story of her life.

Ima who was watching from afar approached, "Mom, you look beautiful in the painting," she said with a smile.

Ana hugged Ima tightly, "Thank you, baby. But the most important thing is not how I look on the outside, but how we feel on the inside."

Ima nodded, understanding her mother's intentions. The two of them then stare at the painting, admiring Ana's work of emotion and story.