Opposites Conversion Camp

The boys were kept separate from the girls, naturally. So that we wouldn’t succumb to our unnatural urges. That’s why I have no idea what their classes consisted of. I can only tell you about what they taught us girls. 

The first day’s classes were focused on history. Nothing new, of course. It was mostly about how back in the day, in the bad old days, couples couldn’t get pregnant on their own and so were forced to do the deed with the opposite sex. It was handled as a transaction, which it was, and so it was bearable, they said, and there were ways — tricks and deceptions — to make it even more so. But now we didn’t have to go through all that anymore. Thank the heavens, they said. Except…

Except I wanted to. I can’t explain it, but I’ve always felt an attraction to boys. Of course, I tried to deny it; I didn’t want to upset my moms. I didn’t want to be different from everybody else, and what kind of life would I be able to have, anyway? 

But despite trying, what seemed to come naturally to everyone else just didn’t for me. I felt so incredibly alone. Until one day I got shit-faced at a party and blurted out to Sabrina that I liked boys. She didn’t react the way I had expected. It was like the effects of the alcohol disappeared in an instant. She brought her face close to mine and whispered, “Me too”. 

Just having another person going through the same thing as me was so affirming and freeing. We still felt alone, but now we were alone together. We started spending a lot of time together. People assumed we were a couple, and we just went with it. We decided to use it to our advantage. 

That’s when I met Robbie. Sabrina and I were spending the day at the beach, sun-tanning, swimming, and reading. We would point out guys to each other, whispering, “What do you think of him?” It felt so thrilling to do this; we were finally like the other girls — well, sort of. 

And then I saw him. He came out of the sea as if in slow motion. His body, beautifully tanned and muscular, with the V-shape pointing teasingly like an arrow at what was below, hidden. His jet-black wet hair hung over his eyes. He didn’t look or walk like the other boys. I couldn’t put my finger on it exactly, but he seemed somehow different. It gave me hope that he could maybe be like us, like me and Sabrina. He must have caught me staring because he came over. 

“Hey,” he said. “You girls interested in joining me for some ice cream by any chance?”

Sabrina looked at me and I blushed. She knew instantly that I was smitten. 

“We would love to,” she said with a giggle. 

The chemistry between us was palpable from the beginning. We walked along the beach while eating our ice creams. When he looked in my direction and smiled, I got tingles all over. Sometimes his fingers brushed against mine accidentally — or maybe not? My body felt like it was on fire. What was going on? I had never felt anything like this before. 

“So, do you have a boyfriend?” Sabrina asked mischievously. I shot her an angry look, though I was desperate to know the answer. 

“Oh, uh, no. Not right now. Sort of… between boyfriends,” he said shyly. 

“I see,” Sabrina said. But what did she see? This didn’t prove anything. It was a good sign, nonetheless, and it gave me hope. 

We spent the rest of the day together on the beach. Before heading home, we exchanged numbers. From then onward, Robbie and I messaged each other regularly, and it seemed to get flirtier as we went on, which gave me more hope. 

After about a week he invited me out for a drink. When we arrived at the club he had suggested, I was shocked. The place was full of opposites, openly holding hands and kissing. He looked at me expectantly to gauge my reaction. I smiled and he sighed out in relief, taking my hand in his. I flinched instinctively. 

“Don’t worry, Mia. We’re safe here, I promise. It’s the one place we don’t need to hide who we are.”

We talked and danced for hours. Afterwards he walked me home. But I didn’t want to say goodbye yet, so I lingered, thought of more things to ask him. 

“Have you known for long?” I asked. 

“I think on some level, yes. But it took a while for me to accept it.”

I nodded. 

“Did you enjoy it? Would you like to go back there?” he asked. 

“Yes, it was amazing! I’d love to.”

“Great. Actually, there’s a march happening soon, for our rights. Let me know if you want to join.”

A march? This was all happening a bit too fast. What if someone saw me? “Uh, I don’t know, Robbie. I’m scared.”

He took me in his arms. “I know, Mia, it’s okay. One step at a time.”

When we separated, he blurted out, “Hey, can I kiss you?”

Those words set off sparks throughout my body. Was this really happening? I nodded shyly. 

He leaned in, we closed our eyes, and he kissed me softly on the lips. I had been kissed before, obviously, but not by a guy. This felt so different. And it wasn’t just that it was forbidden. His lips were gruff and the hairs on his face tingled me, sending shivers down my spine. We separated and he looked at me for confirmation that he could have another go. I didn’t bother giving it; I put my lips on his again, eager to taste him, and when our tongues finally met it set fire to my entire body. 

“Do you want to come in,” I asked in an urgent voice. “My parents aren’t home.”

He said yes and that’s how I ended up in this place — my parents had come home much earlier than they said they would. 

I don’t blame my moms for sending me to camp. It was for my own good. It wasn’t a bad place, really; it was one of the more reputable ones. They didn’t use any violence, instead relying on moral and intellectual persuasion. They simply painted a very vivid picture of the life we would lead if we weren’t cured. Unhappy. Isolated. Shameful. 

The morning classes were followed by individual therapy and alone time in the afternoon. In the evenings we were allowed to socialise — only with the other girls, of course. We never got to see the boys. I wasn’t interested in them anyway; I only wanted Robbie. We had to hand in all our personal possessions on the first day, so I couldn’t even message him. 

On the second day they taught us biology. Women are supposed to be with women, and men with men. This was our nature — it was how it has always been. The main problem with opposite relationships was that you could get pregnant from having sex, and that was illegal, of course. The opposite community had ways to deal with this, things you could use to prevent pregnancy, but it wasn’t fool proof. And they couldn’t get approved for parenting either, so it was the only way they could have kids. 

My moms loved to tell me the story of my birth. Though it bored me, it did help me to get top marks in this subject at school — I knew the whole process off by heart by now, could probably recite it in my sleep. 

It could take up to three years to get through all five steps. Step 1 – fill in the online application form and provide evidence that you are living with your partner in a healthy and stable relationship, that you have the resources to support a child, and that you are both mentally stable. The processing time for this step was about 12 months. 

If you get approved, you move on to the next step, which was in-person interviews. It was a rigorous process that involved questions like ‘Can you share any experiences from your own childhood that have shaped your views on parenting, and how have you addressed any personal challenges or traumas to prepare yourself for parenthood?’ and ‘Describe how you would handle a situation where your child’s desires or aspirations conflict with your own’. You get scored and ranked based on your answers, and then put into a pool with other prospective parents. 

Step 3 was them letting you know you have been chosen to become a parent. This depended on how you ranked based on your answers, and the quota of new births for the year, as determined by the Births Ministry, which controlled the population in line with the Climate Ministry’s advice. 

Step 4 involved going to the hospital, the gathering of the skin cells from both parents to make the embryo and sperm, respectively, and the start of the growing process. 

Step 5 was me taking my first scream-breath into the world, which my moms say is still the happiest day of their lives. How sad. 

Opposites could, theoretically, make a baby without going through any of these steps. All they had to do was have sex. This raised the question of what to do with the babies that got birthed in this way, as the perpetrators were obviously not deemed fit to be parents — not only because they didn’t go through the proper processes, but also because it was an opposite sex couple. How can a daughter be raised with only one mom, and a son by only one dad? What if they also turn out opposite? Most of the opposite-sex offspring were put into orphanages or foster care, and even though it was against the law, some opposite parents decided to keep them. But they were shunned from society and unable to access any government support or services. 

Some of the biology classes focused on this birthing process, while others provided sex education and stressed the importance of separating the two. Sex was for pleasure, not for making babies. Most animals engaged in both same and opposite sex, but that was because they didn’t have any other choice. They didn’t have the technology that we had to reproduce. We didn’t have to behave like animals; so why were we so intent on succumbing to our animalistic desires? 

The third day was spent learning about parenting, and the difficulties we would face if we chose this peculiar lifestyle, even putting aside the effects of being shunned from society. How would we explain to our kids why they had both a mom and a dad? They would get bullied at school. 

On the fourth day we learnt about home economics and other practicalities. It was a well-known fact that deviant men, the ones who desired to be with women, were not as clean and neat as the other men. They didn’t shower as often, drank a lot, and watched sports on the television for hours on end. This meant that women who were in relationships with them had to do the bulk of the housework. Was this really what we wanted, instead of having an equal partnership with another woman? 

On the fifth day we recapped everything we had learnt over the previous four days and had one final lesson on flirting and courtship. We were encouraged to try out our new skills that evening at a celebration party they organised. We all pretended, going through the motions. But no matter how much they tried to drill the correct lifestyle into us, it wasn’t what we wanted; it just didn’t come naturally to us. But we knew we had to pretend to be able to pass. 

On the last day we had to do an oral exam, after which our parents could come pick us up, provided we passed. If we didn’t, we would have to stay for another week. 

“So, Mia, tell us what you learnt here this week,” Ms Osborne started off my exam. 

So I recapped all the key points, just as I had practised. It was just a rebellious phase that will pass. Choosing this unnatural lifestyle would mean I would have a difficult life. I didn’t want to disappoint my parents. I didn’t want to risk bringing unwanted and unlegislated children into the world. I wanted to heal. 

I passed. 

Not everything I said was a lie. I did want to heal and live a normal life. I did want to get over this phase. But was it possible? Could it truly be just a phase? Could I stop having feelings for Robbie? Could I prevent my body from burning when he touched me? 

Some other countries were becoming more progressive towards opposites, but our government warned that it was a slippery slope and that we had to protect our values. 

Honestly, I didn’t expect the world to change, to accommodate us; my dreams were much smaller than that. I dreamed of a world where Robbie and I could walk down the street, hand in hand, without having to worry that people would stare at us, or worse. More than anything, I yearned to see reflections of our story mirrored in the world around us, to turn on the television or open a book and see characters who dared to love as we did, living their truths without fear. I wanted to feel that I belonged and that I didn’t have to hide or be ashamed. 

And most of all? I wished for my parents to see me, really see me, and embrace all of me — not with tolerance but with unconditional love. 

Was it too much to ask?