Crossing the LGBTQIA+ bar

Maya Sharma attempts to capture narratives of the Queer experience beyond the big city setting

Footprints of A Queer History: Life Stories from Gujarat

Author: Maya Sharma

Publisher: Yoda Press

Price: Rs 699

Pages: 370
 

If you are interested in narratives from the Indian LGBTQIA+ movement that foreground non-metropolitan experiences, read Maya Sharma’s new book Footprints of a Queer History: Life Stories from Gujarat (2022). It comes 16 years after Sharma’s first book Loving Women: Being Lesbian in Unprivileged India (2006), which is regarded as a path-breaking study.

In her new book, Sharma writes about people who challenge norms around gender and sexuality. Some do not identify with the gender that they were assigned at birth. Some feel trapped in their bodies. Some use clothes and make-up to momentarily escape their misery.

Some find solace in community groups. Some discover confidence when they leave their parents’ home, and begin to live alone. Some elope with their partners to build a new life. Some consider marriage to be an oppressive institution. Some long to get married but they cannot because Indian laws do not recognise same-sex marriage yet, though a court ruling decriminalised private homosexual relations in 2018. Some sign friendship contracts called “Maitri Karaar” that are unique to Gujarat. Some devise alternative living arrangements that meet their need for companionship, and banish fears of dying alone. Some experience violence in educational institutions. Some face problems while using public toilets. Some grapple with suicidal ideation. Sharma attempts to capture their emotions.

She identifies as a feminist, and works with the Vikalp Women’s Group founded in 1996 to work on issues of domestic violence and discrimination against women in Gujarat. She also works with Sabrang, a collective of trans men, transmasculine persons, and their partners. This background helps us understand her positionality in the struggles in which she is involved. She is transparent about the fact that some people featured in this book wanted to stay anonymous for reasons of safety; some others were concerned about how their stories would be used.

Sharma writes, “I am not an academic, but I love to listen to stories told to me and I often write them down.” She sees herself as a “narrator” who is an insider and an outsider. She clarifies, “An insider in the sense of belonging to the sexually marginalised, and queer, community: a lesbian and non-academic activist involved with the community’s struggles, both giving and taking support…an outsider: to trans men, trans women, and sex workers.”

Locating herself is not a matter of courtesy; it is a political act. The LGBTQIA+ movement is a contentious landscape. There are moments when individuals and groups might come together as one big happy family but there is usually a lot of tension simmering underneath. In her book, Sharma already anticipates questions such as: Are cisgender lesbian women qualified to write about trans men who desire cis women? Is it ethical to use such identifiers for people who do not speak English, and may not relate to how they are being represented? Who benefits – emotionally, materially, legally – from the documentation of these life stories? Sharma is aware that these questions might come up, so she tries to address them.

She writes, “The evolution of language and terminology from the beginning to the end of the book is…a stylistic choice to reflect our journey of learning as an organisation and the evolution that has taken place both within the queer and non-queer communities in this regard.” Some of the people in this book who identify as trans men today used to identify as cis lesbian women earlier. They have also changed their preferred pronouns from “she” to “he”. This book affirms that transitioning happens in many ways. There are trans men who want gender affirmation surgery but do not have the financial resources, and there are trans men who do not care about medical procedures but want the right to self-identification.

Sharma makes herself vulnerable in her writing, and raises unsettling questions about the power equation between the interlocutor and the interviewer. This is particularly evident in the story of Babu Maharaj, who identifies as a “Ramsnehi bhakt”. Sharma admits that she was interviewing Maharaj in “such a self-absorbed manner” that she barely realised how she was “disturbing something serious, something that was very strong and very delicate.” After the research visit, when Sharma was about to leave, Maharaj wanted her to get off the bus.

“Give me what you are writing,” demanded Maharaj. Sharma was startled because she wanted to hold on to her documentation. Both of them began to shout at each other. Eventually, Maharaj tore out pages from Sharma’s book and stormed off. This “unforgettable experience” taught Sharma about “understanding the risks and the necessity of silence in the place where a subject was located.” It made her reflect on “the ethical dilemma of writing about somebody that does not want to be written about.” Sharma justifies her decision to write by saying that she wants to “break the cultural silences”. This choice is up for debate.

Footprints of a Queer History: Life Stories from Gujarat would serve as an eye-opener for readers who understand the LGBTQIA+ movement primarily through court cases filed and fought by high-profile petitioners and their lawyers in Delhi, Mumbai, and Bangalore. Many people whose lived experiences find their way into Sharma’s book are on the margins of this movement. Their faces do not grace the covers of international magazines. They are not invited to write op-eds in newspapers. They do not win awards or get paid for speaking engagements. What they do have is a story to tell, and this telling gives them strength.

The reviewer tweets at @chintanwriting