Euphoria

by Lily King

She asked me what the last piece of the puzzle here was, and I told her about a Kiona ceremony called Wai I’d seen only once, when I first arrived, and my nascent thoughts about the transvestitism involved. She asked if I’d ever tried my ideas out on them. I laughed. ‘“I say, Nmebito, did you know that by embracing your feminine side that night you have provided an equilibrium for this community that the overdeveloped masculine aggression of your culture often threatens?” Is that what you mean?’ ‘Maybe something more like: Do you think men becoming women and women becoming men brings joy and peace?’ ‘But they’re not reflective in that way.’ ‘Of course they are. They reflect on when they fished the day before—what it brought them, where they might choose to go the next day. They reflect on their children, their spouses, their siblings, their debts, their promises.’ ‘But I see no evidence of the Kiona analyzing their own rituals in search of meaning,’ I said. ‘I’m sure some do. It’s just that they’ve been born into a culture that makes no place for it, so the impulse weakens, like an unused muscle. You need to help them exercise it.’ ‘Is this what you do?’ ‘Not all in one day, but yes. The meaning is inside them, not inside you. You just have to pull it out.’ ‘You’re assuming analytical abilities that I’m not sure they possess.’ ‘They are human, with fully functioning human minds. If I didn’t believe they shared my humanity entirely, I wouldn’t be here.’ She had real color i...