“Transgenders, better known as hijras in India, are not like their counterparts in other parts of the world. Indians consider them sacred, touched by God. Their blessings are auspicious and generally accompanied by their signature clapping. They’re often invited to bless newborns and newly weds. In fact, most hijras make their living by exchanging blessings for cash at traffic signals. With the help of hijras, [Channel V] wanted to educate reckless motorists, about a very basic safety procedure they constantly ignored.”
The Seatbelt Crew attempted to engage motorists in a ‘brief safety announcement’ at one such traffic signal. The amazing gender non-conforming individuals, who according to the law fall under the Third Gender category, lent their invaluable support to the cause.
Ty was silent, and in that silence, Kit thought of Ty’s headphones, the music in his ears, the whispered words, the way he touched things with such total concentration: smooth stones, rough glass, silk and leather and textured linen. There were people in the world, he knew, who thought human beings like Ty did those things for no reason—because they were inexplicable. Broken.
Kit felt a wash of rage go through him. How could they not understand everything Ty did had a reason? If an ambulance siren blared in your ears, you covered them. If something hit you, you doubled up to protect yourself from hurt.
But not everyone felt and heard exactly the same way. Ty heard everything twice as loud and fast as everyone else. The headphones and the music, Kit sensed, were a buffer: They deadened not just other noises, but also feelings that would otherwise be too intense. They protected him from hurt.
He couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to live so intensely, to feel things so much, to have the world sway into and out of too-bright colors and too-bright noises. When every sound and feeling was jacked up to eleven, it only made sense to calm yourself by concentrating all your energy on something small that you could master—a mass of pipe cleaners to unravel, the pebbled surface of a glass between your fingers.
“I don’t want to tell you not to go to the Scholomance if it’s what you want,” said Kit. “But I would just say that it isn’t always about people trying to protect you, or knowing what’s best for you, or thinking they do. Sometimes they just know they’d miss you.”
“Livvy would miss me—”
“Your whole family would miss you,” said Kit, “and I would miss you.”
It was a bit like stepping off a cliff, far scarier than any con Kit had ever run for his dad, any Downworlder or demon he’d ever met. Ty looked up in surprise, forgetting the glass in his hands.
He was blushing. It was very visible against his pale skin. “You would?”
“Yeah,” said Kit, “but like I said, I don’t want to stop you from going if you want to—”
“I don’t,” Ty said. “I changed my mind.” He set the glass down. “Not because of you. Because the Scholomance appears to be full of assholes.”
Kit burst out laughing. Ty looked even more astonished than he had when Kit had said he’d miss him. But after a second, he started to laugh too. They were both laughing, Kit doubled up over the blankets, when Magnus came into the room.
so, let me know if there’s any heterosexual explanation for this por favor