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When appearance does matter
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It's not easy being a hijra now. Time was when hijras had a place in the scheme of things, and were a part of festivities relating to weddings and births. That role has disappeared. There are other doors opening now, but will they be allowed in, wonders C.K. MEENA.
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Sisterhood reigns supreme among hijras.
KAJAL DISPLAYS the most recent addition to her wardrobe: a flimsy salwar-kameez-dupatta the colour of rich brewed coffee. "I had the kameez nicely shaped," she laughingly gestures to her 24-inch waist. "Guess how much I paid." I guess Rs. 400, then Rs. 300. "One-fifty," she says triumphantly, and I look suitably astonished. She has bought a dozen silver-coloured glass bangles to go with the outfit. But she can't change her shirt and jeans and get all dressed up now. She has to wait until dark to switch clothes - and identity.
Kajal is one of 2,000-odd hijras in Bangalore. She comes from a lower middleclass family which reluctantly tolerates her sexual proclivity. This mean that she doesn't have to scrounge for a living, or live in a hamaam (bathhouse run by hijras), but it also means that she cannot wholly surrender to her female personality. Hormones have given her breasts, and she wears a nose-stud and eyeliner, but she hasn't crossed over completely. At the moment, she is considering what is euphemistically known as the "operation". A woman who runs an NGO that works with sexually vulnerable groups is trying to convince her against taking the drastic step. "If deep down inside you know you are a woman, isn't that enough?" she asks, pointing out the health hazards associated with the procedure, such as infection of the urinary tract and urethra. Already, the hormones that Kajal is so blithely swallowing have exposed her to the risk of breast cancer. But "it's what's inside that counts" is a Western concept, and doesn't quite satisfy Kajal's yearning.
Twenty years ago, the potential hijra didn't have a choice. At an early age he would run away from home - if he wasn't kicked out first - and after the inevitable "operation", get absorbed into the hijra community, remaining almost totally isolated. Today, thanks to increased awareness and social activism, the hijra has a glimmering hope of getting integrated into society and finding safe ways to earn a livelihood. But the path ahead is by no means hurdlefree. Take Famila, a slim, dusky, self-assured young woman who has left the hamaam which nurtured her but maintains close ties with her guru, Revathi. She is college-educated, has friends outside her community, and works for an organisation that fights for the rights of sexuality minorities. But Famila is an exception. Most see no way of surviving except by selling their bodies. Education is not the magic solution. "There are those in our community who are graduates," says a field worker, "but they still hesitate to look for work. They have low self-esteem." He wears a red shirt, trousers, rouge, and red lipstick on his full, lush mouth. The NGO where he works accepts him as he is, but can he hope to find any other employer who will not judge him by his appearances?
The marriage to Aravanan.
Those who look "typically feminine" don't attract attention or mockery, unlike those who hover "in between". Here emerges a knotty problem. Should you conceal your identity to blend with society, or challenge society to accept you the way you are? How integral to your identity are your appearance and behaviour? Jagruti, a voluntary organisation, works with MSM (men who have sex with men) and develops their talents and self-confidence. It trains them in marketable skills such as accounting, word processing, and communication. "They must learn to mingle in society," says Renu Appachu who runs Jagruti and adopts a humanistic approach. Shiva (not his real name), a Jagruti employee, says: "In an office, you must learn to behave like you should in an office." The first lesson in mingling is that there are different rules for different spaces.
Mingling is perhaps less difficult for those MSM whose physical appearance does not set them apart - for instance, gays, bisexuals, or kothis (those who see themselves as female in sexual partnerships, but who generally do not cross-dress). Clearly, hijras are doubly marginalised. No longer are they paid and fed for singing and dancing at weddings and birth ceremonies. When the social and cultural spaces they occupy are practically vanishing, integration is a sound principle, but at what cost? Will you suffer no damage if you try to fit in by radically altering your personality? Of course, Renu's advice cannot be discounted: "Be comfortable with who you are inside. That's what really matters." But Kajal's wistful statement is a counterpoint: "From childhood I have wanted to wear gowns, draw rangoli... "
If you asked Sangama, an organisation that fights for the rights of sexuality minorities, it would tell you that those who object to a particular mode of dress or gender expression are infringing the right to freedom of expression, which is protected by the Universal Declaration of Human Rights. Sangama believes in bold assertion of identity, in taking society head-on. It's a fact that many hijras from the lower income group earn a livelihood through commercial sex, says Manohar of Sangama, but if society doesn't allow them an alternative, how else can they exist? The organisation has recorded several incidents of police abuse against hijras and kothis, including extortion, physical and verbal abuse, intimidation, and illegal detention.
Predictably, Sangama has had a few standoffs with the police. Last week, it bailed out a beauty queen! Ranjitha from Bangalore was crowned Miss Koovagam at a beauty contest for hijras held in Tamil Nadu. Two days after her return, police raided her house and filed cases against her and her husband. She was taken to Central Jail, and it was a minor triumph that, for the first time, a transgender woman was put in the women's prison instead of the men's. In April, Ranjitha had complained against a police official, charging him with illegally detaining and torturing her husband.
Photographer K. Venkatesh who shot the hijras at Koovagam.
Ranjitha was among thousands of hijras who attended the annual festival at the Koothandavar temple in Koovakam near Villupuram. While the temple itself is centuries old, hijras discovered its historical significance only around 30 years ago.
They say that Aravanan, who was to be sacrificed to help win the Mahabharata war, didn't want to die a virgin, and so, on the night before he was to die, he married Lord Krishna who took on the form of Mohini. Hijras identify with Mohini and, at the Koovagam festival on the eve of spring (Chaitra Masa), tie a thali to symbolise their marriage to Aravanan. The next day, the thali is pulled off to signify their widowhood.
Photographer K. Venkatesh attended the festival and took pictures of the three-day festivities which included many contests - painting, singing, dancing, elocution, beauty, and healthy hair. Venkatesh had wanted Ranjitha to inaugurate his photo exhibition at Chitrakala Parishat, but since she was in jail, had to invite Manjulamma from the Ulsoor hamaam instead. Venkatesh calls his exhibition "Out of Focus" since society has failed to focus on hijras' lives.
Back at the Jagruti office, Shiva and his friends are showing me their own photo album of the festival (which, they say, had 3,000 participants, while Venkatesh's estimate is 1,500). They tell me of the NGOs who conducted Aids testing camps and distributed pamphlets. They show me the Bharatanatyam dancer who successfully earns her living through performances. They point out the winner of the healthy hair contest, showing off her thick, knee-length tresses.A fashion show participant is dressed as Shakuntala with a circlet of jasmines on her head and strings of jasmine covering her skimpy garments.
But who's that in the sari, dancing in a circle with gay abandon? Shiva blushes. It's him! "It was very jolly," he says. "I felt really free."
Grief of widowhood when the thali is snatched off.
Real freedom is an experience that is denied to most transgender people. Until society changes its attitudes, they'll be waiting at its threshold, hoping to get in.
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