At 13 years old, Jonathan Martínez had the closest thing to a double life.
In Chigorodó, Antioquia, that thin, dark-skinned teenager left his house for school dressed in all the etiquette required by the coexistence manual.
However, upon arrival, a brief stop in the bathroom was enough for her appearance to stray from the norm and get closer to the feeling of your identity.
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Red lipstick, eyeliner, a healthy dose of pressed powder, and her hair down. Thus, Jonathan faced a school day in which, despite having great exposure for being part of the volleyball team and the dance group, he could not feel completely calm.
“I’m going to tell your dad that at school you make up like a woman”a teacher insisted threateningly.
“There goes the effeminate”a colleague murmured.
Jonathan, increpant, barely answered: “This is me”.
Late in the afternoon, when classes ended, Martínez returned to the bathroom. Water impregnated in toilet paper erased traces of makeup. A puff when closing the door announced the return home.
On the way, the right hand from time to time noticed the face. The left adjusted the hairstyle. Upon entering the home, a fraternal greeting with her mother. Then, from the parent’s fingers, a napkin ran over her face in search of traces of cosmetics. If there was any redoubt, the rebuke was inevitable. If not, a hug closed the scene.
To Jonathan’s regret, the grueling ritual dragged on for three years. In his dreams, the cumbersome sequence was stopped by the entourage behind him. In reality, they curbed the habit serious threats of an armed group that stalked the municipality and saw in his person a political figure to be silenced.
Driven to survive, in 2011, after finishing school, he left Chigorodó and went to Medellín. Four years later, his parents went to visit him. Then he was no longer Jonathan. It was Marian.
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flee to be
Upon arriving in the capital of the department, Jonathan denounced the threats that made him flee his home and was officially registered as a victim of forced displacement.
Because he was still a minor, at 16, he remained under the authority of the Colombian Institute of Family Welfare (ICBF). In a matter of months, he ended up in several foster homes and boarding schools from which, because he felt different from his classmates, he ended up running away.
In the end, an affiliated foundation presented itself as the right place. There, with the integral accompaniment of several professionals, he gave wings to the expressions that the environment repressed in his adolescence and began a gender transition process.
After a couple of bureaucratic steps, Jonathan began the feminization hormone treatment at the age of 20. In the midst of physical and emotional changes, the intention arose to return to volleyball, dance and study that motivated him so much. But first he had to come to terms with his past.
Product of a joint psychological work, one afternoon, his parents came to his door. Filled with anguish, he felt that they were not going to understand that the one who was before her eyes was no longer him, but her. The situation was clear: Jonathan was the past, and Mariana, a transgender woman, was the present. In the end, the fear was just fear.
“When they saw me, all my parents did was throw themselves to hug me. They told me: ‘we accept you and we love you. There is nothing more to do. If it’s what you want and it makes you happy, we’ve got your back,'” she recalls.
Since that visit, Mariana’s essence flowed without ties.
After a while, with the support of the Medellin’s town hall, in which he began to work, managed to change both his name and his gender on the citizenship card. And despite that symbolism, the biggest step had already been taken.
“The family is the most important thing on this path of gender transition and the process of self-recognition. That your parents call you daughter is everything. Once the family accepts you, the rest comes in addition,” he says.
The rest, in your case: a lot of volleyballdance and activism for the rights of the LGTBI community.
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The leap to freedom
Under an environment in which from a very young age he ran into various barriers, Martínez found in volleyball a space of inspiration.
At age 14, his level generated an opportunity to join the Antioquia National Team, but the fear of leaving his family prevented him.
Later, in the midst of the racket in Medellin, the possibility of playing went away. However, with the road recomposed, Mariana made her presence in the coliseums. This time, different from her childhood, with women’s teams.
The first match in Medellin was played with the team from the Colegio Mayor de Antioquia University Institution, where he chose to study as a technologist in Community Management.
To launch herself onto the court, Mariana received psychological support focused on reducing the fear of exposure.
“I swore that all the people were going to tell me what I was doing a man playing with women“, I thought. But, fortunately, nothing happened: “Despite the panic I had, I was able to play without problems. Nobody insulted me. Nobody treated me badly.”
In fact, in the nearly five years she’s been playing volleyball since her gender transition, she’s only had one bad experience. He was in the prelude to a final in the municipality of Frontino. And everything, says Mariana, because of her voice.
-What are you doing here? —She remembers what the match judge told her as soon as he heard her speak.
“Well, I came to play the final,” he answered.
-To play? Show me your ID please.
Mariana handed him her document, which already had an F instead of an M. Still, the referee wasn’t going to let her play.
“If I have to show you my medical history, I’ll show it to you…” he insisted.
In the middle of the discussion, the players of the other team began to claim their presence. They, according to Mariana, thought: “They are going to beat us because a trans woman is playing with them.” Finally, Martínez was able to play. But to his own regret his team lost.
“Being a trans woman does not mean that I am invincible. There are many women stronger and better than me. My past as a man is not an advantage”he concludes.
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a permanent fight
Today, Mariana Martínez, 26, studies Social Work at the Technological University Institution of Antioquia. There himself he works in the area of inclusion and diversity. With the student volleyball team, he disputes the tournaments of the Colombian Association of Universities (Ascus). With another club, the Mountain, he participates in inter-municipal tournaments in the region. And behind all his games, a fight for what he defines as his essence: to be trans, afro and displaced woman.
“Trans women suffer in all areas. We have very few guarantees. Formerly we were a population destined to be hidden. Today, when we have visibility, they kill us for the mere fact of being”Mariana points out.
The Inter-American Commission on Human Rights estimates that, while the Life expectancy of the general population is 72 years old, that of trans people is 35. In Colombia, by 2020, according to the specialized NGO ‘Colombia Diversa’, trans women represented, with 205 victims, the LGTBI community sector most affected by homicides, threats and police violence for the first time in its fifteen years of reporting.
Under this scenario, Martínez has a clear objective: “Open the way so that other trans women can be encouraged to enter the sport.” The idea, she maintains, is that no one has to go through what she has lived through.
In the past, trans women were a population destined to be hidden. Today, when we have visibility, they kill us for the mere fact of being”
A few weeks ago, Mariana was part of ‘Become a fan’, a UN Women and Ministry of Sport campaignin which, being the only trans woman, she participated in dissertation spaces to promote equity in Colombian sports.
In her dreams, she confesses, she is leaving the country and integrating a professional team of women. Regarding the tense debate that exists over the competition of trans women in the female branch, Mariana maintains that testosterone levels should be the measure to guarantee a certain equality.
“It’s very easy, medical exams should be the filter. If you’re in the range, you compete. If not, then no. However, I know that there are still many taboos for a trans to reach a professional level”manifests.
Asked about her projection in a period of 15 years, Mariana says that she sees herself as herself: “I want to travel, study, be a teacher and pass on my life experience as a trans, Afro, feminist, displaced woman and activist.“.
The possibility of starting a family is not yet in his plans, but he does want to have a stable partner. Until the moment arrives, he assures, he only has to continue doing two things that, in his case, seem to be only one: live and fight.
ANDRES FELIPE BALAGUERA SARMIENTO
SPORTS WEATHER
Networking: @balagueraaa
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