People used to say I was a “Tom-boy”, and it hurt me. I liked playing with my brothers and wearing pants, but deep inside my heart, I knew I was girl. I had a friend, Alicia, but we were different. She wanted to play with dolls, have tea parties, and put on make-up, but that was boring for me. I preferred running outside with my brothers.

“Diana, ga ona ngwana wa mosetsana, mo shebe fela (Diana, you do not have a daughter, just look at her chasing after boys),” my father would say to my mother when he saw me.

One day, while we were coming back from church, I rushed back home to take off that terrible dress I was wearing, and then wear something more comfortable because I used to do that as a habit. When I arrived home, I heard my father yelling at my mother, telling her how she had ruined me and that, if she had talked to me like he had told her to, and taught me how to be behave like a girl and dress like one, I would not be the lost soul that I was. He told her how she had failed as a mother, and how people were gossiping and laughing behind our backs because she could not do her motherly duties.

“Gomelemo needs guidance and it is your responsibility, but you are turning us into a bloody mockery, man,” he said, screaming at her.

My mother was not much of a talker, so she just nodded her head in response and left. She found me sitting at the front porch, and the first thing she did when our eyes met was smile at me. She was pretending to be okay, but I could see that her eyes were teary. Her eyes never lied, but she held the tears back.

As soon as my father left, my mother broke down, and I had never seen her like that before. It tore me apart. She cried for almost an hour, and it was as if her tank of tears had burst. It was the very same tank she had used to store all her tears over the years whenever she felt like crying but had to put a brave face for us. I did not know what to do when I saw her crying, so I joined her. I was an emotional wreck at the time, and I hated seeing my mother in that state. She finally calmed herself down after some time, so I asked her what had gone wrong as though I did not know I was the cause.

“Gomolemo, o batla go mpolaya ka ditiro tsa gago? Ke lapile Gomolemo (Gomolemo, do you want to see me dead due to your ways? I am tired Gomolemo, I have never been this tired in my life),” she responded calmly, and then got up and left.

After my mother left, I sat there broken and confused. I did not know what to do to fix all that mess, and how to put her mind at ease. From that day on, I reached the conclusion to be the Gomolemo Phiri that my mother knew and wanted me to be. I started wearing dresses, hanging out with Alicia more, and doing all those other girly things.

Once I started doing all those things, the atmosphere started changing around the house, and my parents became okay. I wish I could say the same thing happened regarding my brothers, though. To them, it felt like I had deserted them and they had lost their best friend. To tell you the truth, the feeling was mutual, but my mother was happy again, and that was all that mattered to me at that moment because she was my gem.

Thabang was so heartbroken when the change happened, you would think he was going through a heartbreak. He would even try to blackmail me at times. “If you play with us again, I will give you my favourite underwear,” he would say, and we would laugh at his stupid behaviour.

“I miss you, skeem saka (my friend), but I am glad you are doing all this for mom’s sake,” Katlego said. “You managed to put a smile back on her face, and I am proud of you, Riri.”

Hearing Katlego say all those things closed the void in my heart. I felt blessed to have two brothers at that moment, and it did not matter that one made sense and the one lived in his own world. It was like having the best of both worlds.

Tell us: Do you think children should sacrifice their happiness in order to please their parents?