In the pursuit of pride

By Mukul Bhowmick.

The month of June ushers in global celebrations of LGBTQ+ identities and rainbow filters across social
media. Building on my work and readings of same-sex sexualities in India, I reflect on some realities of
queer mobilities through a fictional character of a gay man.

Nervous excitement gripped Vijay, as he embarked on a 7-hour bus ride from his hometown to the bustling megalopolis of Mumbai. The 20-year-old spent more than a quarter of his life dreaming of this. As the only son to his parents, and eldest of three siblings, he was glad he could finally support his family financially- a responsibility he had been assigned at birth. There was another reason for his excitement. Moving away from his family, to a ‘modern’ Mumbai meant that he could finally engage with same-sex sexual desires he had bottled up for years. Film, television and other media showed him how it was possible to be ‘free’ in the city. He truly believed that he shall find this freedom in the anonymity that Mumbai offered.

As he began navigating city life, he experienced his first ‘sexual’ encounter. In a crowded bogie of the Mumbai local train, he chanced upon a guy who shared more than a stare with him. Communicating in gestures, Vijay went close to him and they alighted at the next station. Vijay learnt that the trains were a popular ‘cruising’ spot for gay men in the city and subsequently had more such ‘sexual’ encounters, even if they were limited to the train. One night, he followed another such man he found in the train to the public toilet nearby, only to find policemen waiting for them there. Turns out, the man he was following was working with the police to hoodwink gay men like Vijay. He was humiliated, beaten and stripped off 500 Indian rupees (just over 6 US dollars)– which was more than what he earned a day.

The trauma haunted him for weeks. “I’m not doing anything illegal!” “What if they told my family?” “Will the restaurant still let me work if they found out?” These were just few of the questions troubling Vijay. He thought it is in his best interest to maybe seek men online instead. Afterall, some of the men he met did tell
him about the apps they used. Smartphones indeed! After installing a popular gay dating app, he saw profiles mentioning “English ONLY” and felt terrible about not being ‘classy’ enough for others. He did chat with a few others though, but never ended up meeting them. He felt like he could not trust anyone after the public toilet incident. He missed the comfort of his family and actual home- not the house he rented in Mumbai, which he shared with two other guys.

He often tried to console himself, explaining how he probably didn’t get the worst deal. He was thankful that his gender expression didn’t conflict with his biological sex and his ‘gayness’ was inconspicuous enough to let him use public transport uneventfully. He was thankful he had a job! He heard of so many horror stories from some guys who resorted to sex work, and couldn’t guess how many drunk and rowdy clients they must be encountering. He was thankful he wasn’t Dalit or Muslim, or finding a house to rent would have been an uphill task. He was glad he wasn’t living with HIV because as that would exponentially increase not only the stigma he would face from other gay men but also his monthly expenses. Despite the brief emotional respite these explanations brought, he felt like he wouldn’t have to constantly worry about any of this if he was straight. Maybe he wouldn’t have left his hometown in that case, either! On the app, he also found some contacts to a local NGO working for LGBTQ+ rights. He visited them and made some good friends. Friends with whom he could ‘be himself’. He often wondered if this would have ever been possible in his hometown. They helped him find another job when the restaurant he worked at, shut down. He misses his family, but also made peace with the struggles he will have to brave because of his sexuality, even in Mumbai. Two years on, he realises the falsities in the aspiration he held before moving to the city and his perceived imagery of the urban and yet cannot imagine himself going back home.

Queer mobilities within India are impossible to quantify as the stigma associated with sexuality affect both self-identification and disclosure to others. Yet in the context of queer lives, there is a dominant narrative of big cities as utopian sites challenging gender oppression and offering sexual liberation. While this may not entirely be false, it is crucial to view cities through an intersectional lens and question this narrative. Issues of class, caste and religion are critical to understanding queer mobilities and the associated precarity, fostering structural violence and poor mental health.

This research was funded by the NIHR (NIHR Global Health Research; grant nihr134629) using UK
aid from the UK Government to support global health research. The views expressed in this
publication are those of the author(s) and not necessarily those of the NIHR or the UK government.

References:

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