Jimikki Kammal and the Girl Who Hid

I had a long debate with myself about sharing this story. For a long time, it felt too personal, too contradictory to the person I am now. But I've decided to write about it in case it helps someone else on their own journey.

Anyone who knows me knows I’m a passionate feminist. I believe fiercely in equality and the right for everyone to express who they are. What many people don’t know is that for years, I fought an internal battle against my own femininity, a silent war that made me feel like an imposter. 

It all started when I was a kid. My family moved, and I found myself in a new city, a new school, and a new home with my male cousins. Whenever I did anything "girly", like playing a dress-up game online instead of a shooting game, they mocked me. This teasing followed me to school, and my little-kid brain, desperate to fit in, absorbed the message that being "girly" was wrong. So, I began to suppress my femininity. Eventually, I wasn’t just hiding it, I was ashamed of it. 

Ironically, even as I started learning about feminism and the need to challenge patriarchal norms, I couldn’t see the contradiction in my own behavior. I respected other girls for embracing their femininity, but I couldn’t allow myself the same freedom. I let others shape my choices while preaching that everyone should be free to express who they are. 

College made that contradiction impossible to ignore. I didn’t feel like I belonged, with the girls or the boys. I couldn’t connect with most girls because I had distanced myself from the things they bonded over. And while I had some friendships with boys, it wasn’t enough to fill the gap. I felt like a stranger in both worlds. I was lonely and struggled to find my place. I think some people saw me as a “pick-me” girl, but the truth is, I just didn’t know how to relate. I had built a wall between myself and my own womanhood. I had lost touch with myself.

My guilt about this started to turn into anger. I was a feminist who couldn't even follow her own beliefs. I knew I needed to change, but I didn’t know how to start. The first step was understanding where this shame came from. It was a remnant of my childhood trauma, a pattern of behavior dictated by the opinions of a few teenage boys. Understanding that helped me take the first step toward healing. I began to ask myself: What do I actually like? Who am I when no one else is telling me who to be?

The journey was anything but easy. I remember a small but significant moment. I was out shopping with my amma for earrings for our store, and I saw a pair of jimikki kammal I loved. But I couldn’t say it out loud. The psychological barrier was real. Weeks passed, and I saw them again. This time, I whispered to amma that they were pretty. She asked if I wanted them, I panicked and said no. But I did want them. The third time, I finally told her I wanted them for myself. The smile on her face was a sight I'll never forget. In that moment I felt the psychological barrier crack a little. That tiny act of courage was the beginning of me reclaiming my femininity. 

The true breakthrough came when I moved into a hostel for my postgraduate studies. I was surrounded by women my age, and they became the angels who helped me find my way back to myself. They saw my struggle without me having to explain it. They didn't make a big deal of it; they simply eased me into womanhood. They offered to help me with my hair, put on eyeliner, or choose an outfit. I fell in love with the simple joy of being feminine. I’ll never forget the mornings before special events, watching all of us help each other with sarees, jewelry, and makeup. The pure joy and support in that room made me realize what I had been missing. I began to feel like I belonged.

Now, I can buy nail polish or lipstick without feeling a pang of guilt. I am finally able to live out the very ideology I preach: that everyone has the right to express who they are without judgment.

So if you’re struggling with inner contradictions, if your ideals feel out of reach or you feel like a fraud for not living them perfectly, you’re not alone. It's okay if your journey to self-acceptance isn't linear. It’s messy and slow and sometimes painful. But it’s possible. And it’s worth it. The most important step is simply trying to align with the person you know you're meant to be.

Keep trying. Keep questioning. Keep becoming.