When gay India came out

Last Sunday, India saw the first splendid coming-out ceremony for gays in a multi-city gay pride march. Thousands marched for gay rights in Kolkata, Delhi and Bangalore — homosexuals, heterosexuals, bisexuals, transgenders, hijras. It was part celebration, part protest, the way gay pride marches have always been around the world. 

Curiously, India’s most gay-friendly city, Mumbai, was not part of this national gay parade. It wasn’t so much the fear of fascist forces as infighting among gay groups that kept it out. Mumbai has had its own gay pride parade for some years. Named ‘Gayzadi’ (gay + azadi), it is held on August 16, the day after Independence Day, to demand true freedom for gays. But as the city bowed out of this multi-city parade, prominent Mumbai gay activists like Ashok Row Kavi joined the Delhi parade.
In this field, Kolkata is our true veteran. It has been holding gay pride parades since 1999, which marked 30 years of the Stonewall March that started it all in New York. Predictably, Kolkata had a great turnout. Delhi wasn’t bad either — several hundreds turned up to march and dance through the streets of the capital, braving storm clouds and stormier social stigma.

I was uncannily reminded of the first gay pride parade I marched in — in New York in 1986. I saw the same sense of expectation, of being on the brink of change, the mix of shy discomfort and the excitement of coming out. Back then, homosexuality was illegal in several US states and not everyone was comfortable being seen at the march. It was before the flamboyance, before dykes on bikes, and the in-your-face sexuality that now mark US parades. That unremitting, deliberate marching through the conscience of the people, talking of sexual preference, civil rights and human dignity, has now brought about fantastic changes in people’s attitudes and in the laws of love and partnership around the world. 

In India, the issues for the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender) community are not different. The main issue is that of acceptance — of not being looked upon as a freak or criminal. Last week, in Kerala, two young men, Sivanarayanan and Deepak, killed themselves by setting themselves ablaze, under family pressure critical of their relationship. Weeks earlier, Christy Jayanthi Malar and Rukmani had embraced death by fire in Tamil Nadu. Although married elsewhere, they were in a lesbian relationship. The police found their charred bodies united in a death-defying hug.

This week, the Delhi High Court continued its slow rumination on a PIL against Section 377, the ancient British law that clubs homosexuality with bestiality and makes it a criminal offence (“carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal”) punishable by life imprisonment. This not only allows the police and others to blackmail same-sex lovers and extract money and favours from them, it also drives gays underground, muzzles them and poses a huge health hazard, especially that of HIV/AIDS. 

Getting rid of this archaic law will not be easy. There are too many interest groups — religious, political, social — which are not particularly interested in sexual minorities yet. But the legal battle against Section 377 is of vital importance to change deep-seated social attitudes about ‘normal’ and ‘unnatural’ sex. Sexual preference is not always a matter of choice. It is absurd that in the land of the Kamasutra, where same-sex love is as old as the hills, we still cling to obsolete Western notions of sexuality to deny our citizens their basic right to live and love as responsible adults.

The writer is Editor, The Little Magazine. Email: sen@littlemag.com