Transgender and Commons

From P2P Foundation
Jump to navigation Jump to search

(from Vocabulary of Commons, article 34)

by Anita Cheria and Edwin[1]

Re-entering the commons: An effort by the transgender community in Karnataka

Indian society is deeply stratified along the axes of class, caste, religion, language, education (among others), which intersect with sexuality to create deeper oppressions. Although hijras[2] (transgenders) have a sanctioned and visible place in Hindu society (especially in weddings, births, and festivals), it has always been on the margins. Though a few traditional practices of social interaction and support existed they always lacked in quantity and quality, and were a far cry from providing social and financial security. In the contemporary context in addition to the sexual discrimination, it is the class dimension of the transgender community that impedes their access to education, employment as well as on the violence they suffer on a daily basis.

For the last ten years or more the effort of the transgender community of the state of Karnataka has been to create a new space where they can interact with dignity with the non-transgender community, be it the government, human rights agencies, their neighbourhoods or family. These efforts have been actualised because of some pioneering work done by people from the transgender community with strong alliances from other sexual minority groups, the lesbians, gays, bisexuals, transsexuals (LGBT) and the much stigmatised sex workers unions.

In the process they have succeeded in getting themselves included within the ambit of the nation—the ‘national commons’—at least in a formal, legal sense. It is in some sense to reclaim some of their spaces that were being whittled away due to increasing formalisation and their absence in the systems of formalisation (there is not one openly LGBT judge or MP in the whole of India, and just one MLA). They have managed to stem the process of being pushed out of the commons. The Delhi high court judgement, the government’s decision not to challenge it and the assurance that all laws will be gender neutralby 2014 have managed to secure their space within the commons to a degree.

In this chapter we will look at the process of exclusion of the transgenders from the commons and the attempts to bring them back into the commons. The case in Karnataka is important because they realised, consciously or otherwise, that they need to have power to be included within the commons—and that this power would come only from a combination of people (so they formed collectives and alliances), material (the funds pouring in for HIV/AIDS ‘work’) and mind (so they worked on changing the law and attitudes of society). It will also explore the ways in which traditional Indian society has dealt with this phenomenon in its typical deification of the different, and the consequences thereof.

The transgenders in tradition

Indian society has always tried to deify the different. The prime example of course is the deification of Buddha and all the other saints who fought against the caste system. The sexual minorities are no different. Most communities did not violently oppose or condemn it. In one of the nine avatars of Vishnu (the mohini avathar) he becomes a woman. As mohini (s)he even has sexual relationship with Sivan, and has a son Ayappan whose shrine in Sabari Hills is the richest seasonal shrine in India. In the Mahabharatham Krishnan (another avatar of Vishnu) turns himself into a woman and gets married to Aravanan so that the teenager could enjoy the pleasures of the marital bed before he was sacrificed.[3] Arjunan, the warrior par excellence of the Mahabharatam—at par with Achilles of the Trojan war—was a eunuch for a year, living with women. The transgenders themselves claim a special relationship with both Krishnan (as mohini) and Shivan (in his Ardhanari, Shiva-Shakti avatar).

They are mentioned in hoary literature as third sex by nature (birth) and were not expected to behave like ordinary men and women. They kept to their own societies or town quarters, performed specific occupations (such as masseurs, hairdressers, flower-sellers, domestic servants, etc.) and are generally attributed a semi-divine status. Their participation in religious ceremonies, especially as cross dressing dancers and devotees of certain temple gods/goddesses, is considered auspicious in traditional Hinduism. Some believe that third-sex people have special powers allowing them to bless or curse others. The power to bless is based on the legend in Ramayanam and is a direct gift of Raman.[4]

Hijras and kothis: The Indian context

Among transgenders there are many differences, in their emotional needs and physiology and external appearences. All these impact their levels of vulnerability and the amount of external violence and discrimination they face. Among them those who take up dressing as males face less discrimination as compared to those dressed as women.

The hijra culture

The hijras in India trace their origins to foundational myths in Ramayanam and Mahabharatham and other legends. Most hijras in India live in groups that link back to seven houses (‘gharanas’) situated mainly in Hyderabad, Pune and Mumbai. Each house is headed by a ‘nayak’ who appoints gurus, spiritual leaders who train their wards (‘chelas’) in ‘badhai’ (dancing, singing, and blessing), and protect them within and outside the community. It is a system that replicates matriarchy, creating interdependence between the ageing guru and the ‘chela’ who has been cast out of her family. Disputes among hijras are decided within the community by the ‘nayak’ and senior gurus acting as law makers, and administering punishment such as imposing fines and expulsion from the community.

Often there are a host of prohibitions and taboos. Thus, any person who wishes to become a hijra has to live in ‘satla’ (female attire) in the community for at least a year and observe the rituals and obligations of the community, such as earning money for running the household and for the guru. If she is unable to adjust to the requirements of community life, she will not be allowed to go for ‘nirvan’ (castration). ‘Nirvan kothis’ are often favoured over those who don’t undergo castration (‘akwa’/ ‘zenana’). The ceremony of castration in the hijra community involves both penectomy and orchiectomy (removal of penis and testicles). Most hijras are biologically born as male although a very small percentage are born hermaphrodites/ intersexed.

The ‘kothi’ culture

‘Kothi’ is a term that is used across South Asia with local variations. Kothis often see themselves as non-English speaking, with a feminine homosexual identity distinct from the gay/ bisexual identity which tends to be the expression of English speaking homosexual/ bisexual males. Kothis largely belong to non-English speaking lower middle-class and feel their marginalisation (due to lack of access to resources/ information/ employment etc.) in terms of language, education, socio-economic status as well as sexuality. Kothis express their feminine identity by wearing make-up, women’s clothing, cooking and dancing.

The symbiotic relationship between kothis and hijras has been strengthened due to the lack of support systems for kothis in urban spaces and mofussil towns. Kothis to depend upon hijra subcultures for both support and succour. Hence there is a constant interchange of languages, symbols and mythologies of alternative sexualities/ genders between the hijra and the non-English speaking homosexual subcultures.

The traditional occupations of the transgenders were dancing and singing. They were called and honoured at the time of births, marriages and housewarmings since their occult power was said to be potent for both blessing and cursing. In many places they were considered a ‘good omen’ (possibly because of their association with the auspicious occasions). They have always sought the safety and security of numbers, and therefore are more visible in the cities and large towns, where they congregate with others of the LGBT community.

The earlier traditional support enjoyed by the transgender community, provided them some support to survive on the margins of society. The ‘badhai’ culture in north India and ritual roles as jogappas, jogammas, Shivshakthis, in south India provide some social and financial support for transgenders. They practice badhai, or blessing on auspicious occasions and participating in religious festivals like karaga processions and various jatra, or religious rallies along with men who cross-dress as women. This provided them a source of small and occasional income. Even this is in a state of total disarray due to breakdown of their networks, their neighbourhoods and reducing acceptance for their traditional roles within the rest of society.

A lesser-known third-gender sect in India is the jogappa of South India (Karnataka and Andhra Pradesh), a group similarly associated with prostitution. The jogappa are connected with Yellamma-devi, a version of the popular Hindu deity Durga, and include both transwomen as well as transmen. Both serve as dancers and prostitutes and they are usually in charge of the temple devadasis (maidservants of the goddess who similarly serve as dancers and female courtesans). Large festivals are celebrated at these temples wherein hundreds of scantily-clad devadasis and jogappas parade through the streets. The jogappa do not practice castration.[5]

Transgenders in practice

Despite the rather laidback position of tradition and scriptures regarding homosexuality and transgenders, the reality is that the Indian society does not have a culture that will accept transgenders with any level of dignity.

The early years

While there are significant differences based on class (and as usual those from the upper classes have it easier), there is little discrimination against the sexual minorities till puberty. The discrimination starts when their sexuality and sexual orientation becomes known at or about puberty. The shell-shocked parents, who were often in denial, then try to ‘straighten’ out the hapless child through crude, torturous procedures recommended to them by quacks and trained health practioners alike. The reaction of the larger society is vicious, with no one knowing how to cope with this different person. At the frontier of this assault are the uncaring peers with their special brand of pre-teen cruelty, when they find that bullying their peer does not have any cost nor fear of rebuke from the adult. With the cruel and often violent backlash against them, the sexual minorities are physically hurt and degraded. Most of them are forced out of school and also leave their parental home by the age of thirteen or fourteen. Though well known, these are not issues taken up by the keepers of our mighty traditions, within the family, religious institutions or state.

The family as a social institution polices gender non-conformity in terms of attitudes, identity, behaviour and thereby reinforces the heterosexist regime. Instead of protecting their child from the violence inflicted by the wider society the family mirrors, and provides an arena to act out, the intolerances of the wider society. Those who violate the existing social codes which prescribe how a man is to behave are subject to daily humiliation, beatings and expulsion from the family itself.

The new community

The children, barely in their teens, are forced out of the community and the commons, into a lifelong path of migration, homelessness and destitution. Their entire existence is from then on criminalised to some degree or the other. With low literacy levels—being pushed out of school—they are forced into sex work and later, when that is no longer feasible, into begging.

The shifts and displacements are multiple and severe, from losing their name, their family, school and neighbourhood....to moving to a life of anonymity, changed names, from villages to cities or from one city to another, in search of new friends, livelihood and a place to live. This kind of brutalised orphaning, associated with conditions of war, famine and disasters are part of growing up and coming of age for transgenders in India. Most often it entails association with, and dependence on, sex work and criminal gangs. They seek the traditional support systems within the transgender community.

Despite some instances of care and support in the traditional system, most often transgenders are forced into begging and sex work—both of which are criminal in India—as the only means to survive. Forced and restricted into the criminalised, illegitimate spaces they are brutalised by both their immediate family and law enforcement machinery of the state. This gross violation of child rights has not been a major issue for child rights campaigns, be it local child rights organisations, national forums working for child rights, or international agencies like the UNICEF.

Most agencies do not have the capacity to even acknowledge this reality, evolving the wisdom and developing effective programmes and systems to deal with it can come only later. This problem is not limited to individuals, societies or institutions in India but is a global phenomenon. Even in countries like the US, known to have been active on the rights of sexual minorities for much longer, the situation is no different.[6]

Violence and the transgender

Violence of the most brutal kind is endemic to their life. Most of them finally are forced to take up sex work as their main source of income, either by soliciting customers on the streets or by joining hamams, or bath houses. It is a dangerous profession, as they are often subjected to contemptuous and violent treatment by customers and the police.

They cannot get what others would take for granted: a house on rent, a loan to build their house or admission to school. In a country where vast sections are denied housing based on an innocuous ‘vegetarians only’—both for buying or renting—the transgenders face an additional discrimination, virtually forcing them to ghettos. Those who do agree to rent or sell a house to them often do so at a premium. Even so, neighbours complain. Access becomes difficult.

The reasons for this violence are varied. To quote from the PUCL report on violations against the hijras the transgender community

‘The reason why the sexuality of hijras incites such gratuitous violence could be two-fold. First, since sexuality is often the most intimate part of a person, sexual abuse and violence can be seen as the most systematic tool of dehumanising an individual. Second, the sexual nature of the violation can be understood as an apt punishment for a trangressive sexuality. Since this non-conformative and highly visible sexuality of hijras is so deeply threatening to the conventional social order, a punishment centring on a targeting of sexuality is deemed most effective.

Apart from the sexual nature of the violence, another feature of the violence against kothis and hijras is its pervasiveness as an everyday reality. No space in which the hijras move is free from violence or the threat of violence. The violence itself owes something to a systemic pattern of police harassment and violence, extortion and the manifestly illegal and even criminal wrong-doing of the police’.

The violence meted out to the transgender community often leads to it destroying them from within. Fourteen transgenders have committed suicide in the last 18 months in ‘cosmopolitan’ Bengaluru[7] — the technology capital of India and one of its fastest growing cities. Of the many reasons for sexual minorities, especially transgenders, to take the extreme step is stigma, non-acceptance by their own families and severe discrimination in accessing basic services. and social support. The rate of suicides among transgenders is a very sad reflection of the stress they face from society and state, both of whom claim to be champions of human rights and eager for modernisation.

AIDS: an invitation to the commons

For a group that is marginalised and socially ostracised by their own families, identifying and meeting as a community itself was beyond their means, and a very big challenge. Out of the blue came an opening: the identification of HIV virus and the fear of contagion. Identified as a ‘high risk group’ and with the reputation for sex work, there was a general fear that this ‘homosexual disease’ would pass on and infect the ‘general population’.

This fear and the follow up strategies to combat the disease, along with a substantial allocation of resources to deal with it resulted in a multitude of interventions by agencies both within and outside the government. This has helped bring or has brought sexual minority groups and the transgender population together in a very functional manner, as staff and vulnerable populations. The fact that almost all sexual minority groups—transgenders, gays, lesbians, bisexuals and sex workers were being targeted by the HIV AIDS programmes as potential carriers of the disease helped bring them together on a single platform and helped in forging this larger identity as a community. The stigma and stress they face due to their identities and work, has aided them in forming stronger bonds and common goals, as just coming together on a platform does not necessarily lead to a strong coalition.

This opportunity created a space that has been tapped strategically by groups working with the community and community leaders as well. This has also provided an opportunity to form linkages within the community and with those addressing human rights issues. Thus the sexual minority rights campaigners have made significant inroads into the human rights networks, and the government social welfare institutions, while some in these institutions have attempted to reach out to the sexual minority groups too. This two way process of learning and sharing has significantly raised awareness and strengthened the human rights discourse and priorities. The organised transgender community and sex workers have been generous in supporting such forums and campaigns. Their experience and support has been two ways, solidarity in sheer numbers and in giving new insights and strength to the respond to a variety of human rights violations on issues regarding labour, gender or health. They have been active members in supporting struggles on many issues. Many of them have been victims of violations to the extent that their very existence is ignored except as factor of disturbance. Such personal experiences of facing marginalisation and violence, make them extremely sensitive and perceptive to the survivors of similar violence.

...but only as instruments

The fear of spreading HIV, the popular perception of transgenders as sex workers—and especially the carrot of generous national and international financial support—have prodded the state to address one aspect of the transgender population: their vulnerability to AIDS due to occupational hazards. But being potential ‘high risk’ transmitters of HIV is the only aspect of transgender life that concerns the state departments and is being actively addressed. Keeping the stigma of sex work and sexual discrimination intact, they are the community to meet targets of the HIV programme. So even when the state ‘invites them into the commons’ it is for the survival of the dominant communities that the state represents, and not necessarily for the welfare of the transgender population or other sexual minorities. Their inclusion is only as foot soldiers who need to survive to perform the task assigned to them.

According to the National AIDS Control Organisation, NACO, the objective of drop in centres for People Living With HIV (PLWH) are to:[8]

  1. Promote positive living among PLWHs and improve the quality of life of the infected.
  2. Build the capacity and skills of PLWHs to cope with the infection.
  3. Create an enabling environment for the PLWHs.
  4. Establish linkages with PLWHs with the existing health services, NGOs, CBOs and other welfare and development programmes.
  5. To protect and promote the rights of the infected.

Though drop in centres are run by the community based organizations they are now meagrely funded, it has visibly shrunk and does not provide the space for such interaction nor is it conducive for any kind of enabling proccess. The outreach staff are designated as part time, as far as remuneration is concerned. They are paid Rs 2000—2500 (USD40 to 50) a month to meet the targets of the programme, basically to bring in potential patients for testing. These targets must be met as they are linked to their salaries, which already is very low. Many a times this pushes the staff to forging identities by taking the same people to different centres. The agencies response to the problem as expected is to strengthen the identification and coding of the patients instead of ensuring better working conditions and dignity at work for the field staff. Thus line listing technique is adopted which records a large amount of personal data, sometimes more to track the person than the spread of the disease. While even a criminal has a right to remain silent it seems a PLWH does not. In the name of efficiency and precision a lot of personal information needs to be shared and privacy of already vulnerable individuals is violated. The identification and coding procedure to follow for providing or availing HIV AIDS treatment parallels the precision and detailing of a military operation.

The interest of AIDS control authorities played an important role in bringing vulnerable communities together. This did not support their building a strong community of the transgenders. As it was only their ‘occupational hazard’ of vulnerability to sexually transmitted diseases that was being addressed by this project. Even in addressing this, the stigma and non acceptance attached to their normal sexual attitudes and practices was retained and reinforced in many cases. There is no attempt to provide them security through legal recognition or protection through labour laws or health policies. There is no space to discuss their survival needs be it education, health or economic issues.

These issues that impact the day to day lives of the transgender community have not been acknowledged as a serious issue of public interest. Just like the child rights of sexual minority groups don’t find a special mention in most child rights documents, similar is the case with their health and employment problems. Despite severe violations and omissions in support, these are not the priority agenda of either the government policy or campaign documents of human rights networks focused on these issues.

The HIV programme is target driven, with clearly defined objectives and targets. The standards for the programme have a number of priorities for efficiency but dignity of PLWH does not seem to be high on this list. The fact that these marginalised communities might look for some pride and dignity in the ‘office work’ is not a concern or priority.

The transgender community thus has a long way to go to move this new found space towards some dignity for themselves as individuals and as a community. Though a window of interaction is always better than having none, and the first is the most difficult step, this is a long and complex process and will take time to bear results. But that in no way reduces the significance of this new commons in the making, a commons towards a more just and human friendly world. The first step of commoning, often the most difficult bridge to build for marginalised and stigmatised groups has strong roots and a foundation strong enough to take up future challenges.

A complex community, claiming commons

As ‘transmitters of AIDS’ they formed a new community as defined by HIV/AIDS controlling institutions to manage and control the disease from getting into the ‘mainstream’ population. The constructed and imposed identity did not deter the different constituents. They embraced this chance to forge a new identity and move beyond their traditional limitations. These communities ensured that they found some dignity in this interaction.

Among the transgender community there are many complexities to consider while planning to support them. Their new found identity as a community is not a universal reality. They are organised as unions in only some pockets. There is no detailed survey about their numbers, their places of residence or on the other human development indicators reflecting their present status.

The strategy

The efforts are multiple and consistent, and most importantly, led by the community itself. The support from networking within and beyond has been extensive and strategic. They have been formal, structured and progressive, through the active participation of certain NGOs, like Sangama[9] taking the lead in Karnataka. Supportive networks have also been created to bring in the synergies with groups working on law, gender, information and labour. The first strategy was to build a strong community network. This has primarily taken the form of establishing links within the community so that the violations of basic rights are reported.

The second strategy has involved following up on the community-based networking by intervening actively when members of the queer community come to Sangama for legal help. Whenever the organisation found out about instances of violence and abuse, the matter was taken up in court. This intervention on a case-by-case basis had a positive impact in instilling confidence among community members. This effort by individuals and organisations was also complemented by a larger support base with the formation of the ‘Coalition for Sexuality Minority Rights’ (CSMR) in 2002, a solidarity network of individuals and organisations to support such efforts.

The legal interventions were always followed with a systematic campaign which reached to the media, the public and state actors at appropriate levels. This included regular press conferences, protests, rallies, celebrations and meeting with and representations to police officials, the Chief Minister and the NHRC. The increasing participation of sexual minority groups, most visibly the transgender community, in other human rights programmes, also went a long way in their gaining larger acceptance from other civil society organisations. Technology was used quite well to support this process. For support from NGOs and the media, the internet was a powerful and economical too. With community members it was consistent personal interaction, through meetings and phone calls.

These strategies can thus be summarised as:

  1. Formation of a collective by the hijra/kothi community, in effect creating a new ‘community’.
  2. Crisis intervention in cases of violence, demanding recognition as human and as citizens with rights.
  3. Visibility in the mass media.
  4. Engaging with other human rights issues in support and solidarity.

They were clear that they wanted to move ahead and beyond their ‘traditional’ roles and spaces. If they were to hark back to ‘tradition’ they would also need to acknowledge and stay within the old boundaries of power (hamams) and patronage (bribing the police and living on charity) which would restrict their ability to interact with the state and the larger world. Choosing to work on the human rights based approach and on the labour class identities enabled them to demand solidarity and forge larger alliances. As a demonstration of their wider human rights consciousness, they expressed their solidarity with others first. Then solidarity began to flow towards them. When they were obstructed from using their office—not by their landlord, but by an other tenant in the block who had political connections—this larger human rights body and the media came to their support. The human rights framework and the human rights based approach enhanced their perspective and widened their reach.

Appropriate technology and technique

This multi-pronged strategy seems simple and easy to replicate, but mentioning just this would be a gross understatement of the effort and process. The strength of this process came from a deeply committed team from within the community; those with a deep understanding of their problems; who stood by the community, when they were voiceless, regularly abused and weak. This was the most critical factor in the converting these new commons into an empowering dynamic and growing commons, reaching out to and bringing the community together. Use of appropriate technology too helped in the process, coupled with high levels of commitment and skill. Among all other technology computers, the internet and the use of mobile phones, needs special mention as they have played a significant role.[10] In a combination of messaging, missed calls and calls. The help-lines in this campaign differed from most other help-lines, in that they provided instant and personalised support. The help-lines were not just accessible, but those taking the calls responded with immediate action.

The situation could differ—the police station where their community member is harassed, tortured or sexually abused or, their homes where they face abuse, or sudden violence on a lonely road. The call would be picked up, the gravity of the matter discussed, and the people required mobilised from the closest point.

For the community, the fact that they had someone to reach out to, to trust and depend on was a new and liberating experience. This trust building was the basis of the community coming together. The strategies stated in the earlier section could be supported by a variety of projects, but this part is difficult to replicate. Such an intervention can become a reality only if the conviction about the change is strong and commitment to do so blurs boundaries of project cycles and reaches much beyond to achieve the goal. A similar effort is required to change the mindsets of people and agencies—from individual to the transnational— in order to create an awareness about gender complexities and genuine respect for every person that is not biased according to sexual orientation.

The legal conundrum

If one takes the position of hijras and kothis, it is clear that gender non-conformity does make a difference to one’s ability to access basic civil rights available to all other citizens. Among the instruments by which the Indian state defines civil personhood, sexual (gender) identity is a crucial and unavoidable category. These identification documents like a birth certificate, passport or ration card are a prerequisite to enter into a variety of relationships in civil and official society—for obtaining driver’s licenses, for accessing legal service, employment opportunities, university admissions and essential services including health care.

Identification on the basis of sex within the binaries of male and female, is thus a crucial component of civil identity as required by the Indian state. The Indian state’s policy of recognising only two sexes and refusing to recognise hijras as women, or as a third sex (if a hijra wants it), has deprived them at a stroke of several rights that Indian citizens take for granted.

These rights include the right to vote, the right to own property, the right to marry, the right to claim a formal identity through a passport and a ration card, a driver’s license, the right to education, employment, health so on. (Nevertheless, some hijras through personal effort have managed to obtain a ration card, a driving license or a passport by declaring themselves as women.) Such deprivation secludes hijras from the very fabric of Indian civil society. In north India there are instances of hijras standing for election and winning elections as MLA, Mayors and Councillors. These elections however become vulnerable to legal challenge precisely because of the difference between the sex at birth (male) and the assumed gender identity (female).

What is important to note is that it is not only gender that is regulated by law, but also sex. A person, once born into one sex, is legally forced to live within the same sex. Sex changes are not yet legally recognised in India. Thus the binary classification of gender into male and female which does not recognise a third gender category makes the transgender status of hijras a legal nonentity. The rigidity of the law is further exemplified in the fixing of sex at birth as the sex for all subsequent legal transactions. Thus a hijra who wishes to claim her legal sex as female while being born a male is unable to do so.

In a cruel paradox, while the transgender identity of hijras poses no problems to the operation of criminal law and its role in criminalising hijra existence itself, the transgender identity becomes a stumbling block as far as accessing rights under civil law are concerned.

Empowering the commons

While dealing with the state and while trying to organise internally as a community, the hierarchies and differences within what is collectively referred to as sexual minority communities should also be recognised. Different identities and levels of marginalisation need to be considered and acknowledged. Welfare policies should take into account the vulnerabilities to make the law more affective and supportive to the empowerment of the most marginalised among them.

The basic need is to create a set of modern cultural practices, physical space and legal support systems that will allow and promote life with dignity for the transgender population, not making it a necessity that they have to continuously fight as a community. A state policy that will entitle them to basic rights in terms of right to family life, parental care, health, housing, and education till the age of 18—in accordance with the Child Rights Convention should be one of the immediate priorities. An Act that prohibits discrimination against sexual minorities, similar to the one that prohibits untouchability based on caste could be another step in the right direction.

According to Revati a senior member of the community, a writer, artist and community organiser, there is a need to set up systems of identifying genuinely needy persons within the sexual minority groups. Mental attitudes are more of a defining factor than physiology when it comes to transgenders. Medical assessment based on psychology and mental health by health institutions, like the National Institute of Mental Health and Neuro Sciences (NIMHANS)[11] can play a critical role along with the active participation of the community. The active role of the community, community leaders, and activists is the only way to ensure that the changing dynamics of the issues being addressed are fed into policy.

Organisations in Karnataka have made a special effort to make the sexual minority programmes more oriented to those from an economically and socially marginalised background. Thus in addition to their basic right of expressing their sexual orientation without fear, a number of other dimensions got added to the agenda. Dealing with police atrocities, family abuse, access to education, work, pension schemes, access to the public distribution system PDS, getting voter identity cards, housing and health facilities are some issues taken up.

Organisations that have taken up HIV prevention programmes with a human rights perspective have played an active role in spreading an understanding about these issues in the larger society. Their active involvement with the community both at the individual and the community level in a scale never attempted earlier has played a critical role in the creation and defining of a new community bound together through evolving organic linkages and shared aspirations. They have supported efforts of creating a discourse on sexual minority rights by making a space for such discussions and forums. An additional factor, however indirect and insignificant, is supporting community members through employment options in these projects.

The third gender and other sexual minorities need the creation of multiple commons—social, economic and physical and legal—to ensure that they are acknowledged with respect without being forced to hide their identities and then given the support to develop individually or as a community without being forced into repressive practices either traditional or modern. The times are changing and so are individual aspirations and thus they should have the freedom to explore and evolve the best way forward.

Some victories and the road ahead

In 2008, Tamil Nadu, in Southern India recognised the ‘third gender’ with its civil supplies department giving in the ration card a provision for a new sex column as ‘T’, distinct from the usual ‘M’ and ‘F’ for males and females respectively. This was the first time that authorities anywhere in India officially recognised the third gender.

In July 2009, the Delhi high court decriminalised gay sex, and in November, transgenders won the right to be listed as ‘other’ rather than ‘male’ or ‘female’ on electoral rolls and voter identity cards.

In Karnataka the rights based approach to claim rights rather than favours has lead to some significant developments. The Karnataka State Backward Classes Commission[12] recommended the inclusion of LGBT, sex workers and children of HIV positive parents in the Backward Classes Category. This is as monumental a move as the recent law that decriminalised sexual minorities. The recommendations were the outcome of a public hearing that the commission held across the state following a petition filed by transgender groups like the Karnataka State Sexual Minorities Forum.

The state government has also promised to extend the pension scheme applicable to widows and senior citizens, to all from the transgender community above the age of forty. It will be another fight to get government approved documental proof for age and gender. Nevertheless these are actions that herald the new commons.

Another space that bears witness to these developments are media reports. We now have media coverage in mainstream newspapers about a public hearing on the Millennium Development Goals, MDGs and transgender.[13]

There is more to be done and a long way ahead in creating a better world. There are experiences from across the world that can help us in this direction. On the legal side it could include:

  1. Mobilising existing legal frameworks.
  2. Challenging the existing legal frameworks.
  3. Using progressive international legal developments.

So far there has been no UN Declaration or Convention which covers the rights of transgender people internationally. Fundamentalist states—from the mid-eastern Arab to the Vatican—have fought to ensure that the reference to sex and gender will always be only male and female. This vacuum has been sought to be filled by global civil society interventions. Hence it is important to note the passing of the International Bill Of Gender Rights[14] which provides a model for progressive legislative change. Similarly the Equal Opportunity (Gender Identity and Sexual orientation) Bill shows how legislations have sought to incorporate the concerns of transgender and homosexual people.

Sexual identity is an essential component of human expression, and inherent in the fundamental right to freedom of expression guaranteed under the Indian Constitution. An understanding of the complexities of human life need to evolve in the Indian judiciary and legislation in recognising the rights of eunuchs, transgender and transsexuals as equal citizens of India. That would be the first step in enabling the transgender to reenter the commons.

References

Human rights violations against sexuality minorities in India: A PUCL–K fact-finding report about Bangalore, 2002.

Human rights of minority and women, transgender human rights, part of a four volume series by Indrani Sengupta, published 2005, Isha books, New Delhi.

Endnotes

  1. This chapter is based on the authors insights from interaction with members of the sexual minorities, their leaders and campaign. The starting point of this chapter was a detailed discussion with Ms. Revati, a human rights activist, author and the past director of Sangama, a sexuality minorities human rights organisation. Revati, a transgender herself, has worked hard to empower herself and her community. This chapter also draws and builds on some of the findings of the PUCL report in 2002 on human rights violations against the transgender community.
  2. The word hijra is Urdu, derived from the Arabic root hjr in its sense of ‘leaving one’s tribe’, and has been borrowed into Hindi. The Indian usage has traditionally been translated into English as ‘eunuch’ or ‘transgender’, where ‘the irregularity of the male genitalia is central to the definition’. However, in general hijras are born with typically male physiology, only a few having been born with male intersex variations. (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Hijra_(South_Asia))
  3. Aravanan, the son of Arjunan and the tribal princess Kannigai offered to sacrifice himself to Kali so that the Pandava side would win in the Mahabharatam war. According to prophecy they needed to sacrifice a ‘perfect’ man to win. His only request was that he spend one night as a married man. Krishnan assumed the female form and married Aravanan. After a conjugal night, Aravanan was beheaded. This is re-enacted annually on the first full moon of the Tamil month of Chittirai (AprilMay) at the temple in Koovagam, Tamil Nadu when the transgenders ritually marry Aravanan. At dawn an effigy of Aravanan is ceremonially beheaded and set to flames. They mourn his death with intense passion and demonstrativeness including breaking the bangles, cutting off the mangalsutra, tearing of hair and loud moaning.
  4. When Raman had to go on exile, the entire population of Ayodhya followed him. At the gates he told all the men and women to go back. On his return after this 14 year exile, he found the transgenders still standing there. Impressed, he gave them the power of blessing.
  5. https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/LGBT_topics_and_Hinduism
  6. A recent report from advocacy group Campus Pride found that many LGBT individuals feel uncomfortable on campus. Approximately 25 percent of lesbian, gay and bisexual students and university employees have been harassed due to their sexual orientation, as well as a third of those who identify as transgender, according to the study and reported by the Chronicle of Higher Education. The study asked 5,150 people at about 100 colleges about their experiences last year. http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2010/09/15/lgbt-students-harassed-at_n_717992.html A U.S. government study, titled Report of the Secretary’s Task Force on Youth Suicide, published in 1989, found that LGBT youth are four times more likely to attempt suicide than other young people. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Suicide_among_LGBT_youth#cite_note-1
  7. As reported in Express Buzz on 22nd November 2010.
  8. http://delhisacs.org/naco_pdf/guideline_15.pdf
  9. Sangama is a sexuality minorities human rights organisation for individuals oppressed due to their sexual preference. Sangama focuses on the concerns of sexuality minorities from poor and/or non-English speaking backgrounds and sexuality minority sex workers, who otherwise have little access to information and resources.
  10. The introduction of mobile phones in India has played a significant role in bridging the class divide in easy communication. From street vendors and the most lowly paid migrant labourer in the unorganised sector, to the chief operating officers in the corporate sector, all have adopted this technology.
  11. A multidisciplinary academic, research, and patient care institute in Bangalore, India. http://www.nimhans.kar.nic.in
  12. https://bcwd.karnataka.gov.in/
  13. Transgenders press for more rights - The Times of India 25 August 2010. http://timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/bangalore/Transgenders-press-for-more-rights/articleshow/6435242.cms
  14. The International Bill of Gender Rights (IBGR), as adopted on 17 June 1995 strives to express human and civil rights from a gender perspective. All ten sections of IBGR are universal rights which can be claimed and exercised by every human being.