There are countless kinds of people in this world countless colors countless voices.
But among them are some whom we look at, yet never really see
People to whom we give a place under the open sky
but inside the roofs of our hearts we never spare even a single corner for them.

My society of which I am also a silent little piece still separates certain humans the way a mother lifts some children into her lap and leaves others at the doorstep.
And the saddest part is that all of this is done in the name of religion in the name of morality in the name of tradition.

I remember in the streets of my childhood whenever the topic of transgender people came up, the adults voices would turn unusually harsh
as if these were not human beings but some kind of disaster.
I was taught to stay away from them.
I never asked why.
Perhaps we were never taught to question — only to fear other human beings.

Life kept moving at its own pace, and I continued believing the stories society had handed me…
until one moment arrived a moment that opened a window I didn’t know existed.
A window from which even the breeze felt different, and the landscape beyond was entirely new.

That moment was Namkeen Peshawari.

Namkeen is a transgender rights activist from Peshawar.
She works for the protection and dignity of her community is the founder of the Trans Support Group an artist a storyteller, and holds a Master’s degree in Political Science from the University of Peshawar.

One day, in a group of the National Youth Volunteer Network, I saw a message:
I need a web developer. Can someone help?

It was my field, so I replied.
Just an ordinary response — but what followed was anything but ordinary.

In the beginning I had no idea who I was talking to.
A few messages, a few short conversations.
But when the first call happened I suddenly felt something shift.

For a moment, the old echoes of my upbringing whispered
What if this person turns out to be transgender? What will people say?

But immediately my mind pushed back:
“Did you see anything in their words that lacked humanity? Why is their politeness frightening you? Did you study all these years only to carry the same outdated thinking?”
I fell silent.
And then I said yes.

At that time, Namkeen was in the U.S.
Online meetings began.
Her speech had a kind of calmness; her choice of words carried a softness;
and her tone had a dignity that makes one rethink many things.

I kept wondering
These are the people we were taught to fear?
These are the ones society refuses to respect?
These are the humans we push to the margins of our lives?

Educated, aware, dignified
For the first time, I saw such grace within this community.
And in that moment I realized that maybe we only see half the world
and the other half we keep deliberately in the dark.

Weeks passed as we worked together.
I heard fragments of her story, and filled in the rest myself.
Leaving home…
Society blocking every path…
Enduring taunts at school…
Friends who walked away…
Teachers who hid their laughter behind their hands…

And when someone survives all this and still completes their education,
they are not just educated
they are resilient.

Then came the day I was going to meet Namkeen in person.
There was an event by the National Youth Volunteer Network.
Shahab bhai had encouraged everyone to attend, and deep down I also wished to finally see this person face-to-face.
As usual, I sat in the front row.

When Namkeen entered the hall, it felt as if a new atmosphere descended with her.
Confidence in her walk…
Gentleness on her face…
And a kind of dignity in her speech that demands respect.

She messaged me on the phone:
Are you sitting in the front or the back?
I replied,
“I’m right in the front.
She smiled and gestured,
Come to the back.

Even in that small gesture, there was politeness and grace.
And in that moment, I found myself thinking:
These are the people we never even try to understand.
These are the voices we’ve never made an effort to truly hear.

In her eyes, I saw a strange kind of light
a light that only those carry who have endured pain again and again,
and yet stood up again and again.

My heart grew heavier as I imagined all she must have faced
from home to school, from school to university.
How many of us could walk that path?
And how many could still find the strength to work for others?

Namkeen is building a community, raising her voice for rights, organizing people
and we?
We’re still stuck on the question of what her gender is.

Sometimes I feel the real problem is not their identity.
The real problem is our eyes — which refuse to see.
The real problem is our hearts — which are afraid to change.
The real problem is our society — which trembles at anything that does not fit into its narrow frame.

And so,
instead of ending, this whole story circles back to a single question:

Is a human valued by their gender?
Or by their character?

This question stands before me.
It stands before you.
And perhaps it is knocking at the doors of this society too
but very few are willing to listen.