As a child, I was bullied almost every day in my school in Mumbai because I was effeminate and wasn’t good at sports. I never felt like I belonged. I also didn’t feel like any of my teachers were approachable enough to talk about what I was going through.
As I grew older, I continued to face exclusion and bullying because of my gender identity. These experiences shaped me and ignited a deep passion for social justice.
I spent seven years in the United States, where I completed my PhD in chemical engineering. In 2021, I returned to India to join the Teach for India Fellowship. I wanted to bring about change at the grassroots level. I wanted to be the teacher I never had. I wanted my students to grow into empathetic people who were full of love and compassion.
For the next five years, I taught science and mathematics to secondary students in three different government schools in Mumbai.
Being the only non-binary teacher in a school was challenging to say the least. I wear a nose ring and every time I walked into a new classroom I would see students staring at me and giggling. On several occasions, students shouted transphobic slurs at me in the classroom and even made comments about my private parts. A few times, groups of boys surrounded me outside the school building and insulted me. It was deeply traumatizing.
Image via Sanket Sabnis
Microaggressions often occurred in staff rooms. In one school, a teacher told my students to “stay away from me” because I was from a different community.
Our schools are simply not equipped with support systems or mental health resources for trans and non-binary teachers. How many trans and non-binary teachers are there in schools? How many do you see in leadership positions in science or education? The numbers are close to zero.
And yet representation matters.
Our students need to see queer, trans, and non-binary role models. Students who don’t fit in need to know that people like them belong in classrooms, schools, labs, and leadership positions. They need to know that there is a place for them in the world.
Even in classrooms where I visited for just one day, I repeatedly witnessed effeminate boys being taunted with insults like “chhakka,” “meetha,” “damen,” and “hijda.” Literally every classroom. I’m not exaggerating.
What concerns me even more is how often teachers remain passive bystanders and treat this bullying as if it is simply a normal part of school culture.
But what does this mean for the children affected?
What does an entire classroom internalize when this behavior goes unchallenged?
How does it shape young people’s understanding of gender, masculinity and self-esteem?
As someone who was bullied with the same insults throughout childhood – and later in life – I can say with certainty that the effects are profound. Living with a trauma disorder has shown me how lasting and deep-rooted the effects of childhood bullying can be.
Image via Sanket Sabnis
For me, activism is about representation.
For me, activism is about survival in the education system so that children like me are not erased.
I was vulnerable in my classroom and brought my whole self to work every day. I often think of a passage from the book “Teaching to Transgress” by bell hooks: “Professors who expect their students to share confessional narratives but are unwilling to share them themselves are exercising power in ways that could be coercive. In my classrooms, I do not expect students to take risks that I would not take or to share in ways that I would not share.”
In every classroom I taught, I shared my personal story and challenges with my students. I educated her about gender and sexuality. I have also talked about intersectionality in my classrooms – how caste, class, gender, sexuality, religion, and many other aspects of identity influence the privileges we enjoy in society or the barriers we face.
Grades 6 through 10 are particularly important years when young people begin to develop their understanding of gender, masculinity, patriarchy, and social norms. I thought it was important to include students in these conversations and encourage them to think critically about the world around them.
Despite the challenges I faced, there were also moments that made me proud and fulfilled.
Many students who felt like they didn’t belong found a safe space in my classroom and felt comfortable sharing their stories with me. Girls felt safe to talk openly about menstruation. One Grade 9 student wrote a poem about accepting different gender identities, while another wrote a zine denouncing the stigma surrounding menstruation.
These moments reminded me why representation matters.
Every time I was confronted with bullying, exclusion or discrimination at school, I spoke up.
Image via Sanket Sabnis
For most of my life I have suppressed my voice and my feelings. I made myself smaller. I tried not to take up any space. I stayed calm even when it hurt. My voice fell silent. I prioritized other people’s comfort over my own truth.
It’s only in the last few years that I’ve started to find the courage to speak out. Stand up for myself. To say what I think and feel without immediately apologizing for it.
Even now, it takes tremendous courage to get the words out of my mouth. Every time I speak, I defend myself against years of silence.
When I spoke up and denounced things in the schools where I taught, I was accused a lot. The reality is that the foundations for the existence, belonging and development of gender non-conforming and trans people in the workplace are still not in place.
So when I speak up and refuse to remain silent, it’s not about creating drama. It’s about survival, about being seen.
By being uncompromising about myself, I believe I planted seeds in my classrooms – seeds of empathy, courage, and acceptance. I hope these seeds continue to grow long after my students graduate.
My educational path was not easy, but it strengthened my belief that schools can and must become more inclusive spaces.
I will continue this work by remaining in the education system.
Because children deserve to see that they can be themselves. Every child deserves to grow up in a world where they can express and live their gender freely, without fear, bullying or exclusion.
I dream of an India where our systems support non-binary and trans teachers and students.
Sanket is a STEM educator based in Mumbai. You have a doctorate in chemical engineering from UMass Amherst. They care about making learning science and math fun and relevant. They are also passionate about climate protection and social justice.
