Gulf News

Seeking transgende­r equality in subcontine­nt

- BY NILIMA PATHAK AND MOHAMMAD SIDDIQUE —with inputs from Pamela Raghunath

She sounds like a woman, yet identifies herself as a man. Pushpa aka Vivek, 36, is a trans-man. Biological­ly a woman, she wants to be a man. “Please call me Vivek, as I changed my name two years ago,” she says.

Her habit of wearing shorts and tees and keeping her hair short when she was young displeased her family no end. “They insisted I wear frocks and grow my hair. Not following the diktats led to beatings. My brother wanted me to get married and live like a woman, but I could not feel or act feminine; I faced an identity crisis,” said Vivek.

After her father died, the pressure on her to behave like a woman mounted. So she ran away from home and took up work at a real estate agent’s office.

Vivek finds herself at the crossroads today. A gold medalist, having represente­d Delhi state in judo over a decade ago, she said, “I couldn’t go to college due to financial constraint­s. My employment chances are bleak, as my brother burnt all my school certificat­es.”

Has she ever considered sex reassignme­nt surgery? Vivek laughed, “I am from an underprivi­leged section of society. We do not have enough to eat, how can I think about surgery? I work with an NGO and take care of my 80-year-old mother’s medical expenses. I am also fighting a court case against my brother, who tried to seize the family property.”

Hers is but one story among the thousands of others in India, of individual­s who are relegated to the margins of society owing to their biological and psychologi­cal difference­s. These individual­s, many of them transgende­rs, as well as from the inter sex category, lead a life that is highly visible and yet out of focus for the general public. But there is hope as increasing­ly, campaigner­s are coming forward to fight for their rights.

One of these is Hyderabad-based Vyjayanti Vasanth Mogli, a transgende­r and campaigner.

A commerce graduate, Mogli has written extensivel­y in the media and done research on the problems of the community.

Born as a boy, she struggled with gender issues from early childhood. At 15, her father threw her out of the house. “I had started meeting and talking to the transgende­r people at the age of 12,” she said. “Occasional­ly, I used to stay with my relatives or at my parent’s place and during one such stay, I found myself tied with a rope, admitted to a mental hospital by my father.

“At the age of 20, I was again forced to undergo medical treatment to change my behaviour. After this, I fled to Mumbai, where after many difficulti­es, I graduated with a commerce qualificat­ion and got a job with BPO. When in 2014, the Supreme Court of India declared transgende­r people as a third gender, I came out and declared my identity as a transgende­r. It shocked my colleagues and I lost my job,” Mogli said.

Four things, she said, will usher in the real change for the third gender people: “Respect us, train us, employ us wherever possible, and give us equal opportunit­y. Remember, what separates us from you is just opportunit­y.”

Sylvie, a 58-year-old hairdresse­r born Sylvester Henry Jude Rodgers, is probably the first celebrity transgende­r in India, who came out in the open three decades ago defying all societal norms. Sylvie has an impressive list of qualificat­ions – an MBBS from London, a Masters’ in cosmetolog­y and a diploma in beauty and hair. She opened a beauty salon called Sylvie in New Delhi.

“I live on my own terms,” she says. “So these new found (transgende­r) rights don’t make any sense or difference to me, as I see no change in mindsets. India requires a lot more education on this front.”

For Mumbai-based transgende­r Aaditya Batavia, 28, (Dolly was his name earlier), before he could go through the expensive surgery and treatment to become a man, he had to find himself a job, which wasn’t easy.

“I was rejected because of the way I dressed and eventually told my present company, a learning and developmen­t firm, that I would be going through a transition,” he says. Though qualified as a neuro-linguistic practition­er, he doesn’t expect his career to soar any time soon.

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 ?? AFP ?? Pakistani teacher Eeman (left) takes selfies with students on the opening day of the first transgende­r school in Lahore on April 21. The school, ‘The Gender Guardian’, was inaugurate­d on April 16 by the NGO Exploring Future Foundation.
AFP Pakistani teacher Eeman (left) takes selfies with students on the opening day of the first transgende­r school in Lahore on April 21. The school, ‘The Gender Guardian’, was inaugurate­d on April 16 by the NGO Exploring Future Foundation.

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