Gay Indians should not have to fight for their rights alone

Prathap Nair is a freelance journalist based in Dusseldorf, Germany.

India is a deeply religious country, and its legends liberally lend themselves to flexible gender identities and queerness.

Every year, thousands of Indian men go on pilgrimage into the dense forests in the western hills of Kerala state to seek the blessings of Ayyappan, a beloved Hindu deity said to be the offspring of Shiva, the architect of the universe, and Vishnu while in the form of the female enchantress Mohini. Only men, shirtless to show reverence, are allowed to enter Ayyappan's temple.

In an ideal world, a religion that accepts this kind of ambiguity in terms of gender and sexuality would also be freethinking in accepting queerness in its society.

However, Ayyappan and countless other Hindu legends sit uncomfortably at odds with the ongoing drama at the Supreme Court of India where arguments are being heard on the question of same-sex marriage. Around 20 petitions have been filed with the Supreme Court, seeking a constitutional judgment that would expand the definition of marriage and make it more inclusive.

It is important to note that the fight over marriage equality is not only for Hindus but for Indians of every religion. In what is one of the most polarized societies in the region, the syncretism still left in India's collective consciousness needs to be acknowledged as an important vestige of the country's secular foundations.

The country only decriminalized homosexuality in 2018 by striking down the notorious anti-sodomy provisions of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code that had been carried over from the colonial era. The provision is still in force in some other former British colonies and the brutal homophobic laws of countries like Uganda also trace their origins to this.

Modern India may bear little resemblance to its colonial-era self, but the effects of colonization are still all too common in some quarters of the Indian psyche.

At the Supreme Court, the government has defended the status quo with delaying tactics, such as arguing that "the creation of a socio-legal relationship of marriage ... is the domain of the competent legislature." It has also simply dismissed marriage equality as an "urban-elitist concept."

Appallingly, Solicitor General Tushar Mehta has argued that gender identity changes according to "mood swings and surroundings." The National Commission for Protection of Child Rights meanwhile put to the court that "only heterosexual marriages provide stability for children."

LGBT community supporters in New Delhi celebrate a Supreme Court verdict decriminalizing homosexuality in September 2018: Five years on, India's queer community is fighting for same sex marriage.   © Reuters

With little to no support from other walks of society, India's queer community has had to fight its own battles.

Corporate India and multinational companies pander to the community with tokenism and lip-service activism in the form of "inclusive" ads to promote their products and services. India's billion-dollar entertainment industry has also been quick to realize the business potential queer representation offers. While this has resulted in a profusion of queer content on Indian screens, some even thoughtfully produced, it is perhaps naive to conflate business interests with activism.

So far, these sectors of the Indian economy have remained silent about the Supreme Court case beyond the odd column by an industrialist or the rainbow flag emoji on the Instagram story of an actor who won an award for playing a lesbian on screen.

For hundreds of queer Indian couples on the LGBT spectrum, marriage equality is not a privilege, but a necessity. Not only can marriage equality legitimize the partnership of queer and transgender couples, but it would also provide access to crucial medical services, facilitate adoption of children, enable rights of inheritance and tax benefits, and reduce discrimination in society.

It is no exaggeration to say that marriage equality sometimes forces queer couples into a life-or-death situation.

In 2014, I was sick with a particularly bad bout of dengue in Bengaluru. My blood platelets were running dangerously low. I needed a blood transfusion, but my Indian partner was not allowed to sign off on emergency medical care procedures since he was not considered next of kin.

Faced with the real prospect of losing me, my partner had a reality check: never mind that we loved each other and had lived together for years, our relationship was never going to be considered legitimate in India.

We stewed over the situation while we waited for my brother to arrive from another city and prayed we would never have to face such a time again.

Viewed from Germany, where my partner and I live now, accepted as a couple under civil partnership laws and sharing equal rights, the period that followed India's decriminalization of homosexuality in 2018 felt hopeful. It was not without its struggles, but it felt things were at least moving slowly in the direction of equal rights for sexual minorities.

However, with the Indian government actively muddling the delicate debate in court about gender and sexuality without proper understanding of the subject, I am worried that marriage equality may remain a pipe dream in India.

What makes me hopeful is the fact that the case is in the capable hands of queer lawyers from the community who are presenting their case passionately and are showing steadfast resolve to carry it to fruition. Regardless of the outcome, the queer community is not giving up without a fight.