Saanvi Nayar ’22
My poster reads “AZN for BLM”, bold letters demanding to be seen, the artist who drew them too stubborn to hear otherwise. As I explain the meaning of tomorrow’s protest, my little cousin traces my letters on her own poster board, subsequently arranging six markers in a line – red, orange, yellow, green, blue, purple. I mention how her rainbow color scheme correlates to Pride, and as only a Didi would, I explain all that word has come to emulate.
She colors back and forth, meticulously placing the marker back to pick up the consecutive shade. And as I continue to explain, my brother sits down to say “Why don’t normal people have a month to themselves?”
She replies with an eye roll and asks me to continue.
At the age of ten, she detects the trace of mindless privilege laced in that one question. A single, isolated question that has the potential to either be squandered as immaturity, or egged on as a manifestation of disturbing ignorance. A question that seemed to be mindless mockery in my twelve year old brother’s mind, yet proved otherwise – miseducation at its finest.
I suppress my anger to look up “Martha P. Johnson”, the revered drag queen who pioneered Pride month through partly initiating the Stonewall riots. And, yet, as I begin to relay her activism and legacy, countless names of hate-crime victims fly through my fingertips to the search engine: Matthew Wayne Shepard (gay), Paris Cameron (transgender), Ellie Marie Washtock (nonbinary).
My brother sits, ears open, yet heart seemingly closed. I type “Avinshu Patel”, and begin to recount his story: having committed suicide, his last words on a Facebook post begged that he was not to blame for being born gay.
My brother pauses, eyebrows furled, and says “I’ve never heard of a gay Indian person before.”
At the age of twelve, he begins to recognize his own mindless privilege in that one comment. A single, isolated comment that perpetuates privilege through culture – the LGBTQ+ community remains as one of the most taboo topics of discussion at Indian dinner tables.
Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code stated “Whoever voluntarily has carnal intercourse against the order of nature..shall be punished with imprisonment”. It was unanimously ruled unconstitutional as of September 6, 2018, inaugurating the country to the fight for LGBTQ+ rights. Indian members of the community still do not have the right to marry or adopt; they continue to face hurdles including sexual assault, discrimination in the workplace, and more often than not, death.
India’s impending legal battle was foreseen by not only citizens, but LGBTQ+ rights activists across the world; however, the true fight begins in our homes. We are not only conditioned to ignore the topic as a whole, but moreover brought up to stigmatize the embrace of sexuality. There is no discourse regarding the fluidity of sexual orientation or preference, much less any conversation involving the “s-e-x word”. Our culture is too often seen as conservatively traditionalist, and that is the rooted issue: LGBTQ+ justice must no longer be perceived as a ‘mature topic’, but rather, a fundamental right.
The conversation begins with us – our generation is responsible for recognizing June as Pride month at the dinner table, mentioning the latest LGBTQ+ hate crime headline on the way to practice. This stigmatized mindset is parallel to that of racism, sexism, and every other form of oppression, being internalized through generations.
On the way home from my cousins, my brother sits and looks out the window. Turning to me to talk about his friend, he mentions, “His mom said she would disown him if he became gay.”
Stigmatizing sexuality to the extent of imposing fear does not uphold the notoriously idealized virtue of honor in Indian families, nor the prized moral of reputation. As a culture that takes pride in academic and financial success, we must preach pride in identity. Pride in the embrace of the LGBTQ+ community, whether that be in the form of an ally or member. Pride in the conceptual ideology that this embrace does not deter from a moral standing in society.
“Why don’t normal people have a month to themselves?” Breaking the stigma demolishes the standard that normalcy equates being straight.
“I’ve never heard of a gay Indian person before.” Introducing the conversation allows for the realization that the LGBTQ+ community encompasses every race, age, preference, and orientation.
Being the generation that approaches this cultural taboo head-on epitomizes the meaning of Pride. It is simply not enough to take pride in being an ally to the LGBTQ+ community; one must be able to take pride in the fact that their culture perpetuates the same.
the len(z) 