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Stories of brave individuals who decided to be themselves unabashedly

Beautiful individuals knocking on doors that they hope will at least be thrown ajar in our lifetime

Saionee Chakraborty Published 28.06.23, 06:00 AM
Rukshana A Kapadia (left) and Suneha Saha, (right) Nil, 45, fashion designer

Rukshana A Kapadia (left) and Suneha Saha, (right) Nil, 45, fashion designer Pictures: Saionee Chakraborty

heirs’ are stories of courage and encouragement. Stories of inspiration. And extreme grit. Stories that drive the narrative of equal rights forward even as they fight for basic human dignity. Beautiful individuals knocking on doors that they hope will at least be thrown ajar in our lifetime. They are our portraits of Pride.

Rukshana A Kapadia, 50,food writer and content creator, co-founder of Ammolite Ideators

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Pride month to me: For me, every day is a day lived with pride. I am not a symbolic person. Your actions speak for who you are, therefore pride has to be every day and it has to be a way of life for me. That being said, it’s also a good way to create allies and celebrate with the fraternity and create awareness and make partnerships and collaborations so that the fraternity gets a deeper, stronger and broader platform on which to build and grow.

I don’t think we are very different. I think we are as human as the next person. For me, that’s what Pride Month is all about, to showcase that and remind people of that.

Pride to me: For me, ‘pride’ is all about dignity, kindness and compassion, but it’s also about equity and equality. I believe that opportunities need to be created, especially in a society like ours which has marginalised the community and fraternity and often been unfair to it, but that being said, I also believe that once an opportunity is given, the dignity of it is also to be judged on your value and worth and not just because you are part of a particular community.

My journey: I have had a very lucky journey. Most people in our country and around the world have had to really struggle. Not that it’s always been easy. When I was growing up, there was no Google, Internet, groups or support. I grew up in a convent school. I realised early that I was different, but I didn’t know how to define it and understand who I was or what I was... it was lonely. Being an only child, though my parents were educated and I have incredible parents, it was hard for them also because we live in this which says WWPS (what will people say) and even progressive and educated families worry about... when your child is not conventional in the sense that they don’t want to go the marriage, children and the typical way, how are they going to be looked at by the world at large and every parent is protective of their child. So, there have been struggles in all our lives, but our struggles have been small compared to a lot of the brethren in the fraternity because we grew up in the city and being a tomboy is much easier and considered much cooler than being an effeminate man who, unfortunately, is always bullied because roles are so stereotyped and at that time, it always was.

I actually came into my own in my mid-30s. I had shifted to Delhi for work and I had ringside seats to the 377 petition ('Section 377 of the IPC categorises sexual intercourse beyond peno-vaginal sex as an “unnatural offence” effectively criminalising same-sex behaviour consensual or otherwise. The section was read down in a landmark judgment in September 2018 by Supreme Court whereby adult consensual same-sex behaviour was decriminalised recognising the historic discrimination faced by the communities') which was being filed at that time. A few friends were involved in the movement. They gave me a sense of awareness and identity. When I came back from Delhi, I met Suneha who is my soul mate, best friend and life partner and we have been together for 14+ years.

It’s been a rewarding journey together and she has made me a braver, kinder and stronger person.

I would tell everyone to study, and get a qualification so that you can be financially independent. I came out to my family in my mid-30s because I had the confidence to survive.

Suneha Saha, 35, content creator and co-founder of Ammolite Ideators

Pride month to me: It is an ongoing journey. For me, the concept of Pride is letting people know what exactly it means. There are people from our generation who are still unaware but they want to open a conversation but don’t know if it’s rude to ask. This is the month when we openly talk about it. That is a step towards knowing a little more.

Pride to me: For me, pride is love and acceptance, no matter who you are or where you come from. You should be treated equally on the basis of your merit and the kind of person you are. Nothing else matters.

My journey: I have always been a daydreamer. So, I have always stayed in my own zone. My initial thing was a struggle within myself and acceptance. That is how my childhood was. I didn’t come out to my family till I met her (Rukshana). I have always been a private person. So, school was a struggle where I figured that I was different from other people. I couldn’t figure out why I was different from other people. At that point in time, all you want to do is fit in. I wasn’t aware of the whole situation. I asked at the dinner table once what lesbian meant. My father said ‘Ask your mother’ and my mother said ‘Eat’. That was the end of the discussion (laughs). In school, I wrote a long letter to my friend, coming out to her. It’s not that she understood the concept but she was accepting of me. That was the first encouragement.

I started dating when I was 17 and I was easy on myself. By that time, I had realised that I do fit in somewhere and it was okay to be different. I come from a middle-class family but I never faced hate per se. So, when I did come out to my family, I only found acceptance, but I never came out to my father, because by the time I wanted to come out, he had already suffered from a stroke and he was more like a child. I wouldn’t call it regret. I have never regretted anything. You always take some learning out of it.

Nil, 45, fashion designer

Pride month to me: The celebrations make me happy that there is general awareness. The more awareness, the more the support of the larger community will come through... we are not asking for special privileges, but human rights. My idea of marriage can be kept aside, but hopefully, a day will come when the legalities will be sorted out. The more the conversation happens, the more people will realise that these are not people hiding under the carpet. They are present everywhere. I have hope that one day humans can look back and make amends for it. Come forward and understand our stories.

Pride to me: My whole idea of pride is the day I don’t have to explain this. So, we are working towards that. I don’t look at myself any differently from you, but unfortunately, we have come to a phase where we have to explain and go on saying why we are asking for what we are asking for. There is no way I need to explain myself because heterosexual people also never explain themselves. It’s the same for drag.

For me, pride is very personal and hard to explain, but (it is important) so that I can share the privileges which I have earned over the years. We worked hard towards this to reach a stage where nobody will cast a second glance at say, someone who is visibly trans. That is the day we are waiting for.

My journey: I came out early while studying in Australia. Initially, my parents were not okay with it. Later they understood. I never wait for others’ acceptance because it won’t make me any different. Understanding is the most important part. When they understand it, you become more confident because you want your parents and your close friends to understand and support you. People were supportive. I made my own choices. I studied fashion and went overseas and had boyfriends, came back, met Dev and started the label (Dev R Nil).

My aim has been to distribute all the privileges I have been able to earn, amidst the larger community. That’s why Pink Parties came about and I started volunteering with other organisations, giving people the vision, the push and the direction. I am the connector of dots.

Be clear with yourself before you think of coming out. Coming out is great because your stories will inspire others. When you are in a position to come out, you should be independent enough. We are here to support you and if you read our stories, we should make you feel proud that we have come a long way. There’s still a long way to go though.

Anindya Hajra, 44, transfeminist changemaker

My journey: Twenty years ago when we started, our volunteering work was in a very undefined phase... today we have a lot of vocabulary around us... the words ‘transgender’ and ‘gender non-binary’... the whole thing was to build a vocabulary around your experience, around who you are essentially. I remember the early struggles of forming a language. For me that has been a significant shift that I witnessed today. The spaces have emerged and I of course as an individual have come a long way, considering the fact that there have been several pushes in terms of where the law is today at. Though it is a problematic law and many of us have challenged it in the Supreme Court on many grounds, we still have a mindset today and many things still remain to be met, in terms of targets and where we want it to emerge to be a really inclusive space. The whole question of reservation for trans persons is yet to be taken up.

We just had a case in SRFTI where a Dalit trans person was being refused hostel accommodation by the authorities citing security and all the usual nonsense. So, the point is all the rainbow flags are good and the fact that a lot of corporates are coming forward is excellent, but is it being followed through the year? Will a trans person or a lesbian couple or a Muslim-identified, Bahujan trans person still get a space? Will they still be able to rent a flat? Or get access to healthcare? I think those are the questions that are important to ask and they haven’t been addressed enough.

For me, the journey has been to keep pushing and be the whistleblower and also be the problem child.

The lesson that I have learned is to keep being the problem child in the space and keep talking about the uncomfortable things else these will be conveniently shoved under the carpet. At a basic level, you are talking about the dignity and right of the individual.

My family was very accepting I would say. But ‘acceptance’ is a blanket term and we’ve all had our struggles and we still do, but compared to what I hear of cases, I’ve had it fairly easier and I think it made a lot of difference because I could channelise my energies into fighting these other battles.

In December 2017 and 2018, I remember being one of the co-organisers of a protest march outside the Parliament for trans persons in Delhi against a very problematic bill and that gave me a lot of lessons in how diverse our movements are. They are not a monolith and you can’t paint them in one shade. And, the problematic bill had to go through a redraft. I think that is the collective power and that is the collective bargaining which is my lesson and the spirit for collective bargaining for trans people, understanding that, learning that and being a part of that has been my journey.

I want to retain my marginality. I think my marginality gives me power... not because I am taking advantage of it, but because the historical injustice that the community has faced deepens my understanding of the historical injustices of other communities. From that, I can relate and broaden my struggle.

Today when I sit across the table with someone, I don’t want them to reduce me to an aspect of my identity because I have multiple identities. My transness is just one of my identities. That really defies the whole purpose.

I want the tables to be either dismantled or re-manufactured to be made large and inclusive for every diverse individual we are uncomfortable sitting with at the table. If we are able to reach that dream stage, we’ll start living in a better world.

ANINDYA HAJRA

ANINDYA HAJRA

Archee Roy, 35,a queer Dalit artist and executive committee member, Sappho for Equality

Pride month to me: Pride month is not just a celebration, but a commemoration. This fight will go on. The moment we are talking of inclusivity, are we talking of intersections as well? Marriage and equality rights are different. We are talking about the right to equality and we have to keep talking about it.

My journey: The moment you are identifying yourself as a queer person, you are already marginalised from the system. So, it is not easy and we are fighting against a mindset. There may be a lot of laws, but the mindset is fixed and it is very hard and challenging (to change it), but we are working on it.

In school, I wasn’t really aware of the term ‘lesbian’, but I realised meyeder proti prem ashchhe jachche. When I went to college, I saw everyone had a boyfriend. I was popular in college and had to maintain a personality. So, shobar jokhon boyfriend hochche, aamar o ekta boyfriend thaktei hobe. So, I met a guy and I was in a relationship with him for one-and-a-half years. Soon after I fell in love with a woman and I realised the pattern of understanding my sexuality is different. Jeta shobai aamar theke expect korchhe sheta aami hoyto noi.

In 2009, when the Delhi High Court decriminalised 377 in what was a remarkable year, I saw pictures of people in rainbow masks splashed in newspapers. My friends took me to Sappho (for Equality; ‘the only registered organisation in Calcutta, Eastern India that works for the rights and social justice of individuals with non­-normative gender-sexual orientations, identities and expressions’). I saw emon kichhu choritro jara kina India tey thakte pare, they are lesbian, tara abar ek shathe thakchhe and they are earning....

I am the elder daughter in the family and around the time I went to college, there was pressure to get married. I told my parents I was bisexual to keep a hint of reproduction alive (laughs). It was wrong on my part but it was a strategy. My father understood and he started taking names of girls who were my girlfriends in school. He said: ‘I am giving you two years. Cure yourself of this disease.' I think around this time, I started revolting back and I left home and started living with my partner.... And, as I grew, my parents too grew with me. I made it a point that they walked with me. It was a tough choice I made, but they have walked with me and are still walking with me. They have understood my journey.

I used to teach in a school and I had to leave the job because there was trouble from the management. My principal was very accepting and supportive. After I told the management I was queer, they stalked my personal profile on social media to indirectly cast slander and malign me. The humiliation was immense. I was picked on for being dressed inappropriately. I decided to leave because I didn’t deserve this.

Post this, I was looking for something creative and I presently work as the marketing executive at Kolkata Centre for Creativity.

Kolika Mitra, 35 (trip), gender-free/ agender, pronoun: they, researcher, sociologist, queer activist, member of West Bengal Transgender Persons Development Board and Sappho For Equality

Pride month to me: It’s more like a month of visibility and awareness, (but) I am slightly wary of Pride Month because I feel people suddenly start talking about the LGBTQIA+ community and know who they are and talk to them. I feel there should be visibility in everyday life. If people really want to acknowledge and understand gender, and sexually marginalised people, then it should not be restricted to a month to trying to get to know them. It should be a regular process.

Pride to me: ‘Pride’ means freedom and a lot of agency to be who I am, just to live the life I live. It’s a struggle, yes, to live the life I do and people in my community do because the society we live in is a heteronormative society. There is more awareness today and people know but they are curious about who they really are and what their lives are really like. There is still a lot of objectification that happens. People try to homogenise the entire LGBTQIA+ community. It cannot be that everybody is exactly the same.

What is the community? It is people with similar gender, and sexual orientations and a will to live a non-heteronormative life and challenge and critique this hetero-patriarchal system and the normative pressure that we are made to live in and build a narrative that people can live differently in a more equitable way with more freedom and agency.

People should try to understand the philosophy of being queer because it is not restricted to the LGBTQIA+ community. It is a way of life.

My journey: I realised very early in life that I am not attracted to men but I am attracted to women. I realised very early in life that I am not comfortable identifying as a cis woman (‘an adult who was assigned female at birth and whose gender identity is female’). Of course back then we didn’t have any terms. When I was growing up in the late 90s and early 2000s, there was no concept like this. I also criminalised myself because I didn’t see anyone around me who was like this. I was also homophobic to a certain extent where these terms were also shame words for me. I always believed that this was my personal thing and why do I need to take it out on the streets? Who I fall in love with is my personal matter and whatever struggle comes in the way, I’ll deal with it.

With time I realised that my personal is not my personal and it is extremely political and that is when I started looking out for people like me. It’s not that I didn’t know anyone who was lesbian or gay but I would consciously stay away from them because of the shame and stigma that was attached to it and so that people didn’t think I was queer even though people could see who I was.

It was much later that I realised that this stigma I am attaching to myself is something I need to get rid of. Coming out to myself has been my biggest challenge and liberation. I became more empathetic and learnt to look at different identities and started identifying the hegemony of heteronormativity in our lives even more. I have practised and lived a queer life from childhood and I consider myself lucky that I am not part of the hetero-patriarchal system and I sometimes pity people who are trying to carry the hetero-patriarchal system on their shoulders.

Living a queer life is the most liberating and joyful experience that anybody could have. Like society is heteronormative today, the ideal scenario is if the society becomes queer. I think it would be the happiest thing that the world could experience. If people can practise the philosophy of being queer, it will address most problems.

(l-r) Kolika Mitra & Archee Roy, Bhaskar Das, Mohammad Abu Bakar Parvez

(l-r) Kolika Mitra & Archee Roy, Bhaskar Das, Mohammad Abu Bakar Parvez

Bhaskar Das, 27, neuropsychiatrist, who also works with STD healthcare

Pride month to me: This is necessary because it’s an entire month we recognise, celebrate and sensitise and spread awareness about why Pride is needed and why the queer movement is still relevant. The (Stonewall ‘uprising’ of 1969 which was a retaliation to the police raid of Stonewall Inn, a ‘gay bar’ on Christopher Street, New York) sequence of events has brought us to where we are right now. Whatever liberty we have right now has a history of bloodshed, loss and sacrifice. Pride month is to commemorate that and remember the struggle.

Pride to me: It means to reclaim the spaces which were stolen from us and taken away, queers abandoned from home... getting out of the house should not be an everyday battle. It’s your choice and you should be proud of that. I have been associated with queer activism for quite some time and since I am a doctor, my activism has been linked with healthcare. Curing a community is better than a dead community. My work has been to make healthcare and HIV care accessible to people who are from rural areas and are shunned every day from visiting a government health centre. The entire healthcare system is homophobic and transphobic, to date. It’s a basic human right. I am a citizen of the country and I have the same right as you have. Why should a trans person be discriminated against when visiting a doctor? Doctors are still getting sensitised, but much needs to be done when it comes to other caregivers like nurses or ward boys. Till now there are only ‘male’ and ‘female’ wards in hospitals. You need to have gender-neutral toilets and you need to talk about these things. We need to tell the history, know the present and work for the future.

It is shocking to learn that in some parts of the country, conversion therapy still goes on, even in cities. In rural areas, they are forced to undergo correctional rape by family members. So, it’s not only the rainbow and glitter that we are made to see. We need to reach out and educate the cisgender community that people are still getting murdered and are in distress and we need to sort this out. We are in 2023. How long are we going to wait?

My journey: As a queer person, it was not an easy walk. As a person who was assigned ‘male’ at birth, as we live in a heteronormative patriarchal society, there are some gendered roles which are always imbibed upon us. A boy should be on the field playing with a football and girls with dolls. Growing up in such an environment, I always felt guilty about why I was like this and had my own choices. It was a long journey till I discovered myself... why was I attracted to a man being a man?

Mohammad Abu Bakar Parvez, 23, doctor

Pride month to me: It marks the riots (Stonewall riots) which was a protest to exist. Be proud of your existence, whoever you are and want to be. Live and let live.

Pride to me: Respect for existence for mine and others. Existence should be normalised. We are the same with flesh and bones, then why do we discriminate on the basis of sexual orientation? It is a part of my identity and not my whole identity. I am a lot more than that. I don’t want to see myself as any different from others.

My journey: Right from the start when I was in early childhood, I liked studying. That was my only coping mechanism. Being an effeminate person from childhood, though I did not have a bad childhood, people would always judge your behaviour and appearance. I was determined to do something in life to shut people up. When I saw how much regard people had for doctors, I thought this was something I wanted for myself too. For some part of my life, I wanted to become a teacher. I had the option of becoming a scientist when I was studying life sciences at Presidency University.

The journey from school to Presidency was amazing because I got self-realisation and acceptance of myself. I realised I was queer right from when I was 11. My academics were my safeguard and my teachers loved me. Not many people could bully me. At Presidency, I could be myself without any guilt. I saw it is fine to exist. The thought of what others would think about me went away.

At home, I have avoided the conversation and I think they know but they are in denial, so I’d let them process it (smiles).

(l-r) Mainak Das, Julie Saha

(l-r) Mainak Das, Julie Saha

Mainak Das, 38,make-up pro

My journey: It goes back a long way to my days in the village, about 19 years back. People were not that aware then. Maybe now they are due to the influence of social media. Even if I liked someone, I didn’t know how to define it, or whether I should confess my love or the person would react. I now realise that there must have been others like me too, but no one talked about it. Going around with a girl was the done thing and cool.

When I started working as a make-up artist, I realised that in our profession, this was acceptable. For me, gay meant an eunuch because that was the way it had been portrayed to me. Being born as a man meant you have to be manly. Being a man, why should you choose to sew a cardigan and not play football or cricket? And, if you didn’t conform, you would be considered an alien. I also accepted that this was the way society worked. I didn’t have the exposure to gauge that there could be a community that could support you.

Then there is the question of shouldering the responsibility of the family because you were born a man. I have had days when I didn’t have a place to stay and have slept under a flyover and to rent a place, I have had to work as a bus conductor at a school. All this was to pursue my dream to be a part of the fashion industry.

Also, to conform to what society expects of you as a man, you had to sacrifice your favourites, like if you love pink, you had to give it up. The hair you see me in now would have only remained a dream back in the day. Also, my mind wasn’t in it because I had to think of means to sustain a living.

I would say I persevered and have been able to fulfil my dreams. I also realised very early on that if you were financially sound, you would be respected. So, I don’t have regrets.

I found and accepted my partner at 36 when I was financially stable to set up my own shongshar. Today, my mother believes my partner is her other son.

My message: Blaming others is easy. You can’t do that because behind this unacceptance is years of conditioning. The problem lies at the very foundation. Education should start at a very young age. So, we’ll have to talk more and more.

JULIE SAHA, 48, SOCIAL WORKER

My journey: I grew up with five sisters. I realised much later that I had a feminine side to myself. I would tell my mother to plait my hair like my sisters and would use my mother’s snow powder to deck up. I loved make-up and music. I teach music now. Coming back to my growing-up years, I have had to hear a lot like ‘tor jonyo ki aamra mukh dykhate parbo na’. I got rebuked for doing my eyebrows and would be compared to my cousins’ masculinity. I even contemplated suicide. Poribar er thekeo pariparshik lokeder indhon ta chhilo beshi. In school, I would hide on the last bench and in college, I would go hide in the canteen if there was a plan to go out. But my teachers in school loved my talent in music and I secured the first position in vocals in Bengal Music College as part of my additional subject. I had to fend for a living as times were tough after my father passed away and I had to discontinue my education. Bihar e giye naach gaan kore paisa income kora, train e tali mere paisa income kora alongside appearing for interviews at NGOs and going for field visits to make people aware about HIV and mingling more with the community who seemed scary at the beginning (became a part of my life). I drew great strength from them. We have a code language which I picked up from them. I had to look after my mother and marry off my sisters with whatever little I earned. My friend Raju and I decided to put up chai and cigarette shops in and around Deshapriya Park to boost our income. Initially, there was a lot of hostility from the neighbouring shops, which soon changed into love and they would say they missed us if we were not around for a day. I am getting goosebumps as I say this, but they saw how each of us had some talent. The shop is still there and I have been working at Sanhita — that works with sexual harassment of women — for the last 12 years. With whatever I am earning at Sanhita, I can lead a comfortable life. Financially I am much more secure now. I was an office assistant and now have been promoted to the rank of programme officer. I still practise music. My elder sister who wasn’t supportive in the beginning has come around. We are planning a family vacation to Puri. I am very happy. My message: You have to fight the battles of life. I would say Rituparno Ghosh has shed light on our community a lot. Trans people are really talented. Din ekhono baki aache. Ei sangram ta lorchhi, lorbo.

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