From October 10 to November 2, 2025, Conscious Connections Nepal (CCN), with support from the Conscious Connections Foundation (CCF) and in partnership with Giving Face, organized a 10-day makeup training in Kalaiya Municipality, Bara District for transgender women and LGBTQI+ individuals, including those living with HIV. Please read our blog post about the training here. Interviews were conducted during the training, and five stories were developed to document stories of resilience, discrimination, and hope. Stories will be posted regularly. This is story #1, the story of Suman Chaudhary.
Dancing through the Struggles
My Journey, by Suman Chaudhary
My name is Suman Chaudhary — though that’s not the name I was born with. It’s the name I chose for myself, the name that feels true. I grew up in Dhangadhi, far from Kalaiya, nearly a 14-hour journey away. The distance between those two places feels like the distance between who I was told to be and who I became.
I never finished school. I left before Grade 10, chasing something I didn’t yet have the words for — freedom. When I first met other transgender women who danced at weddings and festivals, I felt seen for the first time. So, I packed a small bag, left home, and followed that rhythm all the way to Kalaiya.
Photo Credit: CCN
Life here wasn’t easy. We danced at ceremonies, earning just enough for food and rent. Some nights, hunger and loneliness were heavier than any music. And like many of us, I found myself pushed into sex work — not out of choice, but survival.
One night changed everything. I had met a man at a dance — an army officer. We talked, he smiled, and I trusted him. Later, I woke up disoriented, bruised, my clothes gone. I don’t remember what happened, but I remember the silence afterward. No one told me I could go to a hospital. I didn’t know I had the right to.
Fourteen years have passed since that night. Today, I live with HIV. I take my medication regularly and still dance to earn a living. Sometimes Rs. 200, sometimes Rs. 500 — enough to survive, not to rest. Yet, I smile. Because smiling is something the world can’t take away from me.
For a few years, I worked with the Blue Diamond Society in Dhangadhi, helping others learn about HIV prevention and their rights. When the USAID project funding ended, I lost that job, but not my purpose. The work gave me strength — to speak, to help, to dream.
I live with my partner now, and even though life remains uncertain, I’ve learned to find peace in small victories: waking up healthy, sharing laughter, doing makeup for my friends, and dancing for joy, not survival.
Every day I tell myself — I may have been broken once, but I am still here, still moving, still dancing through struggles.