In April 2016, I took my first step towards the freedom I wanted.
I had never shaved in front of anyone, but I wanted to be able to tell my story to as many people as possible.
A year earlier, I had shaved my head, but after an accident, it was too late.
So, I decided I would do something that would make a difference.
On May 9, 2016, in a village in Uttar Pradesh, I was waiting to pick up my daughters.
As the bus pulled up, I saw a man with his beard sticking out of the bus window.
I was shocked to see that he was my uncle.
“I will shave my beard to give to a friend,” he said.
I looked at him and asked, “Are you my uncle?”
He replied, “I am.”
I told him that my father had passed away years ago and that I was in need of help.
My uncle explained to me that my uncle had a stroke and died in the village.
He said that he wanted me to shave his beard so that he could give it to someone who needed it.
I looked at the beard and said, “No way!”
The next day, I shaved my beard for the first time.
I wanted it to be a sign to the world that I had freedom.
I did not know what was going to happen.
I saw that this would lead to me being shunned and discriminated against.
It took me three days to decide to go ahead with the shave.
At that time, I did it in a very religious manner.
I shaved only when my hair was very short, so I did the beard first.
The day after I shaved, I went to the local hospital and told my story.
The hospital staff took a photograph of me and sent it to my family.
My family thanked me and told me that I made a big difference.
Later, a neighbour of mine took me to a barber shop to shave.
When I saw the beard sticking to the barber’s razor, I knew that it would be my last shave.
The barber shaved it for me and gave it to his friend, who then sent it off to a local NGO that would shave my father’s beard.
I told my family about my decision and they gave me permission to shave for the next few months.
After two months, I started to see a change in my life.
I started making friends and was starting to feel good again.
I went out with friends for a couple of days to celebrate my birthday.
I decided that I would go for a walk and look for the perfect spot to shave all my hair.
The next morning, I left my house and went to a nearby place to shave myself.
I stopped for a few minutes to check if I had made any mistakes.
When the barbersman saw my haircut, he was surprised.
He asked me if I wanted a shave and when I said yes, he cut it for him.
It was a big moment for me.
It felt good to show my face and be able say, “My family has made a difference.”
I felt happy for a while and then my mind started going back to the accident.
Later, the barbsmith came and said that I should shave my hair again.
It did not hurt at all.
After that, I stopped going to the village to shave and started to go for walks.
I felt better and my hair started growing back.
Over the next two years, I continued to shave the beard.
My hair was growing back in different ways.
When it got to about 12 years old, I got my first tattoo.
My mother started to think about me as a woman when I was 12 years of age.
She said, if I am going to be happy in my work and life, then I should be able get the haircut.
She also told me about my uncle who had died.
It is a big decision to decide whether I want to have my own hair cut or to leave it to a charity.
I have always thought that I am not alone in my decision.
I feel I have made a great difference.