When I was younger, the only thing I wanted was to be male.

I think this impulse began when I was about 5. I frequently cried in frustration at how differently – biased, I felt – my parents raised my brother and I.

For instance, I wasn’t allowed to play with trucks and monster cars even though I loved them, because they were boy’s toys. I wasn’t allowed to change outside the pool after swimming because it was “shameful” for girls to do so.

There were a lot of restrictions on what a girl could and couldn’t do, so I tried to be a boy. The queues were absurdly long at female toilets and I got reprimanded for using the male toilet instead. I desperately wanted to pee standing up; it just seemed like a more convenient, efficient way.

I didn’t know about gender norms then, but I certainly wasn’t a good fit as a female. I climbed trees and kept spiders as pets. I never wore a dress. Unafraid of dirt, I would jump around in muddy puddles after a storm. I kept my hair short till I was 17.

I was an anomaly – and a huge source of frustration to my parents.

But God recently revealed to me as I prayed that what I wanted wasn’t to be male.

What I desired was really what I felt were the things that came with being male: Social superiority, power, dominance, control and freedom.

Having been sexually abused in my childhood, I grew up not wanting to be passive anymore. The masculine identity seemed more empowering than the feminine one to me; I didn’t want to be the weaker sex.

My friends said I was “too sensitive” and that I should learn to “take a joke”. But these comments regularly crushed my self-esteem.

I was chiefly angry about my situation – not my identity as a woman.

But growing up was difficult. I was insulted for the masculine persona I tried to establish.

At 180cm and 68 kg, I’m much bigger than the typical Asian girl. And as a competitive athlete, rigorous training and strict diets were good for my sport, but bad for other’s impressions of me. My broad shoulders and muscular thighs only emphasised my large frame, especially in comparison to my friends. So I kept hearing people saying stuff like:

• “You’d be so much more attractive if you were a guy.”
• “I sometimes wish you’re a guy so I can date you.”
• “No guy will like you lah. I mean, look at you. You’re basically a guy. You’re huge!”
• “Where are you hiding your penis? You confirm hiding it, right? Don’t scare other people, leh.”
• “You should do a sex-change operation. I think better for you lah. Girls like you are damn disgusting.”
• “OMG, you’re damn big sized. Why don’t you try this diet …”
• “Tranny.”
• “Shemale.”
• “F***ing disgusting …”

When I grew frustrated by such comments, my friends said I was “too sensitive” and that I should learn to “take a joke”. But these comments regularly crushed my self-esteem.

It made me try everything to lose weight. Laxatives, diet pills, starving myself, purging – I tried everything.

Even after I was hospitalised because of an eating disorder, it didn’t stop a male teacher from telling me:“You so big-sized can faint one, meh? Don’t cause so much trouble for other people, leh …”

When a male friend tried to sexually assault me, he sighed at my aggressive resistance. “You should be honoured that I’d even want to touch you,” he said. “This may be the last time a guy is touching you, you know. Just look at yourself.”

That drove me to attempt suicide. It was my first attempt after a long period of struggling against self-mutilation and taking anti-depressants. When I finally found the confidence to share that with a friend, she said she was disgusted with me. “Why did you do such a stupid thing? That’s so selfish … Don’t you think about people who love you?”

I lost yet another friend that day.

In the hurt and confusion, God came through the storm and lifted my eyes back onto Him: “Even now, return to me with all your heart, I will restore you.”

To the world I appeared strong, independent and unemotional but I was so broken on the inside. God saw through my façade – and He still loved me so deeply. It broke my heart to realise that He had been pursuing me, but I was simply too caught up in my pain to notice.

Even though I hated being different, He was showing me His glory in the creation of Man and Woman as good designs. God sees me, and He sees that I am good, not because of who I am – but because I am His.

Overwhelmed by His love and glory, I surrendered myself completely to Him.

Our sense of self should never be based on how we view ourselves, or how others view us, but how God views us: We are beautifully and wonderfully made by the author of life Himself.

I told Him: “God, I’ve never seen myself as a woman, but I know You chose to create me as one. I don’t know what it means to be a woman because I’ve never been treated as one.

“Teach me what it means to be a woman of God. Mould me into Your original design – who I was made to be.”

He didn’t make me a man, and that must mean that being a woman and embodying a feminine identity is the best possible creation that He intended me to be. God knows the past, present and future – and still chose to create me as a female.

By choosing to undertake another identity, it implies that God makes imperfect creation, which is absurd. Blasphemous. False.

We are all made the way we’re made to glorify God. We may not look how we’d want, but even so, we lack nothing because we were made by perfect hands.

The potter has embedded purpose and destiny in our souls. He has imprinted His love on us through the meticulous, complex and amazing way the human body and mind have been designed.

Gender is not arbitrary.

God made you, even the parts of you that you hate.

I hated myself not because His creation in me is flawed, but because the way I viewed myself was sinful. I viewed my body as a commodity, a piece of flesh, on display for judgement and scrutiny by fickle society.

What I’ve come to realise is that when people criticise your appearance, they don’t realise that by saying “you’re ugly” or “you’re disgusting”, they’re not only insulting a person – they’re criticising the artistry and creativity of a God who we know doesn’t make mistakes.

Our sense of self should never be based on how we view ourselves, or how others view us, but how God views us: We are beautifully and wonderfully made by the author of life Himself.

God decided that I was good enough to be born. Good enough to bring this far. He looked at my body and decided that no edits were necessary.