Nguyen Huong Giang (born Nguyen Van Giang, 1995, in Long An) is a transgender woman. Living a life described as “a caterpillar’s body, a butterfly’s soul,” she has sought happiness for 30 years that once seemed out of reach.

Giang’s mother died from postpartum hemorrhage after giving birth to her. Soon after, her father remarried, and Giang was raised by her grandmother. Growing up in hardship, lacking parental love, she yearned for family affection.

In her childhood, Giang realized she was different from other boys with a slender frame and gentle nature.

In eighth grade, Giang dropped out of school to work and support herself. She longed to transition to female, taking on various jobs, from cleaning hotels, waitressing, and customer service to selling lottery tickets, to save money for transgender surgery.

“I thought I would find a man and a love after the surgery. I didn’t have a complete family, so I craved love,” Giang said.

In 2017, at 22, Giang traveled alone to Thailand for gender reassignment surgery. Facing a grueling operation, she feared pain and death but was determined. “As a man, I couldn’t love anyone long-term, so I decided that I had to transition, at any cost,” she recalled.

In 2018, her grandmother, before she passed away, saw her beloved grandchild become a woman.

Deep love with a Chinese man

With no relatives left, Giang felt adrift. She went to China with friends to trade and work as a cook. There, she fell deeply in love with Ma Xian Chuan (commonly called A Ma, born 1981, from Anhui province).

During an outing, Giang’s phone ran out of battery, leaving her unable to contact friends. Stranded in an unfamiliar place, she was helped by A Ma, and they became friends.

One evening, Giang posted a sad message on social media. A Ma commented: “Do you remember me? I lent you my phone.” With limited Chinese, Giang started chatting with him.

After a while, they met in person, and their love blossomed.

“After one or two months of dating, I dared to tell him I’m transgender. I cried while sharing my story, only able to say sorry. Sitting in the driver’s seat, he cried with me,” Giang recalled.

“Then he said, ‘I’m poor, will you still marry me?’ No man had ever stayed with me after learning I was transgender. Now that he was willing, why wouldn’t I be?” 

A Ma, a divorced man, lives with his 90-year-old parents and 19-year-old son. His family isn’t well-off; his parents are farmers and raise goats.

Despite his hardships, Giang was willing to follow him, needing only his understanding and a happy home.

During the three years of the intense Covid-19 period, Giang lived in China with A Ma and his family. His acceptance of her true gender was the greatest gift.

A Ma’s parents treated Giang kindly. She cherishes memories of his father riding an old bike to buy her cakes and his mother patiently teaching her everything.

“When I bought a small house in Long An province in Vietnam, A Ma’s mother gave me all her savings, about VND200 million, as a betrothal gift. Though we haven’t married, his parents treat me like their daughter-in-law,” Giang said.

Still, Giang feels uneasy for concealing her transgender identity from them. A Ma’s parents hold biases against the LGBT community, so Giang fears she’d lose everything if she comes out.

“Sometimes, his relatives urge us to have kids. We just mumble to brush it off,” Giang said.

Unable to legally marry, Giang can’t reside long-term in China. Since 2022, after Covid was contained, she sometimes travels to China with a tourism visa. For three years, their love has been sustained by these trips.

Each meeting is brief, each parting regretful. Giang even fears that if she can’t get a tourist visa one day, their love might end in disappointment.

“Each visa application is costly and takes time,” Giang said.

Currently, Giang is in Vietnam working, waiting for a visa to visit A Ma. His father is seriously ill, and she’s restless, unable to care for him.

Thanh Minh