IN BLOOM

A VISUAL DIALOGUE OF
RESILIENCE AND REBIRTH

SCAR / ROSE:
AN IMPOSSIBLE CONVERSATION

A negotiation between vulnerability and resilience, between being seen and being silenced. An impossible conversation is brought to life through artificial intelligence, creating an imagined exchange between SCAR and Rose.

SCAR: Rose, looking back on your life, what would you say?

ROSE: ROSE: It’s strange to be asked to reflect when you’re no longer part of the present. But I suppose that’s the gift of being remembered, isn’t it? Looking back… it feels like I was always living two lives at once. One that was laid out for me by others–tradition, family, culture–and another I built for myself, stone by stone, with every step I took toward my truth. I never really felt just one thing. I was always somewhere in-between.

S: Was it difficult navigating the tension between your roots in theIndian diaspora and your journey as a transgender woman?

R: Difficult? Yes. But it wasn’t a burden. I think people often mistake struggle for something negative, but for me, the struggle was what made my life my own. Growing up in the diaspora, you’re taught to hold on to your heritage, to be proud of where you come from.But when your existence doesn’t fit the mould, pride can feel like a weight. For me, it was always about reconciling the pride I was supposed to feel with the shame I was made to feel for being myself.What people didn’t realise is that I wasn’t just fighting to be seen as Rose–I was fighting to be seen as someone who could embody all of it: Indian, transgender, diasporic. It wasn’t about rejecting anything, but about expanding everything.

S: And yet, the world can be so unforgiving, especially for someone who tries to live that freely. What kept you moving forward?

R: It wasn’t easy. There were days when it felt like everything was crumbling. Family members who looked at me as if I had betrayed them. Communities that whispered about me behind closed doors. But what kept me moving was the thought thatI wasn’t just living for myself. I knew that my existence was making space for others who were still afraid to step out of the shadows. You see, when you’ve been erased for so long, you start to believe that your presence doesn’t matter. I needed people to know that it does. That every person, doesn’t matter what you are, who cares anyway, has a purpose.

S: What did you think you left behind from your passing?

R: It’s difficult to measure impact when you’re no longer in the story.But I like to think that the cracks I left behind–what society believed was acceptable–have let a little more light in. The tragedy of my life isn’t just about the suffering I endured. It’s about what was lost because the world wasn’t ready to accept me as I was. But even in tragedy, there is transformation. My life was not lived in vain. I see it now, in the way the younger generation is standing taller, speaking louder, refusing to be silenced. They carry the weight, but they carry it differently now.

S: Somehow the world does not truly understand the beauty in duality, in living as both part of our culture and tradition, and outside of their boundaries. Why do you think that is?

R: I just think the world isn’t ready yet, but everything happens at its own time. I do believe that change comes with every generation. For me, duality wasn’t something to reconcile with–it was something to embrace. I wasn’t half of anything. The real tragedy is that we limit people. We make them choose between identities, between who they are and who they’re expected to be. There will come a time when they’ll say “Fuck it, I’m doing me.”

S: If you could leave one final message to those who are still fighting, still navigating the challenges of being both marginalised and othered, what would it be?

R: I would tell them to keep living, to keep pushing the boundaries of what the world says is possible. I would tell them that their existence, in all its messiness, in all its complexity, is enough. They are enough. Every step they take toward being themselves is an act of revolution, even if the world doesn’t celebrate it yet. But really, stop waiting for the tragedy to happen before you start paying attention. Don’t let stories become cautionary tales. Let them be celebrations, while we can still be here to celebrate them.

S: Rose, thank you. For your words, for your life.Your presence, even in memory, leaves a mark.

R: Thank you. The struggle was never just mine.It belongs to all of us. Take care of it.