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Published : 27 Mar 2025, 02:33 AM
With her tiny studio tucked in the crowded lanes of the sprawling Rohingya refugee camp in south-eastern Bangladesh, Tanya is a popular beautician, with long lines of people waiting for her signature haircuts and facials.
But behind her carefully applied makeup lies a harsher reality for Tanya - she is a transgender woman in a community that barely tolerates her existence.
"Being Rohingya is hard," she said. "But being a transgender Rohingya is even harder."
Tanya, 25, left Myanmar in 2017 with hundreds of thousands of other Rohingya Muslim refugees escaping a brutal military crackdown.
Life in the world's largest refugee settlement is difficult for everyone, but for Tanya, the discrimination adds extra challenges.
Along with the hardship of displacement, she faces rejection from her own people, who see her identity as taboo.
"I can’t visit my 55-year-old mother anymore,” she said, sitting in her 10-by-10-foot (three-by-three metre) salon. "Every time I tried, the neighbours attacked me. They threw water at me, pelted stones, pulled my hair. I couldn’t bear it anymore, so I stopped going."
Born in Maungdaw in Myanmar's Rakhine state, Tanya knew from an early age she was different. But in the conservative Rohingya society, there was no place for someone like her.
When her family refused to accept her, she left home and found support amongst the Hijra, a community of transgender people who often live together for safety and survival. Her godmother in the group gave her the name Tanya.
Officials estimate there are about 10,000 hijras, or third-gender people, in Bangladesh but rights groups say the figure could be as high as 1.5 million in the country of 170 million.
They face severe social stigma and discrimination in both Myanmar and Bangladesh, with many disowned by their families, denied education, and forced into begging or sex work to survive.
Tanya was determined to find another path.
While still living in Myanmar, she apprenticed at a local beauty parlour, learning makeup, hairstyling, and bridal makeovers. Those skills became her lifeline when she arrived in Bangladesh.
"I had no job when I came here," Tanya said. "But I found the owner of this shop and requested him to open a beauty parlour for me. He gave me a chance. Since then, I've been working here."
Today, Tanya earns about 5,000 to 6,000 taka ($45 to $55) a month, enough to cover her basic needs. Her salon attracts both Rohingya refugees and local Bangladeshis, with long queues often forming for facials, haircuts, and wedding makeup.
But outside the walls of her shop, acceptance remains distant.
"Many transgender people like me hide their identity and live as men just to avoid harassment and rejection," she said.
Still, Tanya is determined to make a difference. She has trained four other transgender women as beauticians, and they have since found jobs abroad.
Tanya hopes to follow one day.
"They always call me and tell me to come. I want to go too," she said. "I dream of opening my own salon and standing on my own feet."
Tanya has lost contact with her parents and siblings, some of whom now live in India.
"My parents are alive, but I am dead to them," she said. "Even the person I loved left me."
As International Transgender Day of Visibility approaches on Monday, Tanya hopes her story will help change how people view transgender Rohingya.
"I always tell my community, don't beg - learn a skill," she said. "If we work hard, maybe one day people will respect us."
"I just want to be seen as a human being," she added. "Not as a burden, not as a shame - but as someone who deserves dignity."
