{"id":54,"date":"2024-05-07T18:19:12","date_gmt":"2024-05-07T18:19:12","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/?p=54"},"modified":"2024-05-10T16:33:45","modified_gmt":"2024-05-10T16:33:45","slug":"from-tradition-to-transition-glimpses-into-the-immigrant-queer-indian-experience-in-new-york-city","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/from-tradition-to-transition-glimpses-into-the-immigrant-queer-indian-experience-in-new-york-city\/","title":{"rendered":"From Tradition to Transition: Glimpses into the Immigrant Queer Indian Experience in New York City"},"content":{"rendered":"
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A person wearing jhumka earrings at the Pride festival in New York City in 2023. Credit: Raju Ahmmed<\/a><\/figcaption><\/figure>\n

As I entered The Dickens, a gay club in Chelsea, on a particularly hot Friday night in August 2023, the sound of Hindi songs I grew up with echoed through the long, red-lit staircase up to the venue. The doors opened to what I could only describe as my utopia.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

A sea of Desi people (\u201cDesi\u201d means of South Asian descent), in sequins, rainbows and colorful eye makeup dancing traditional Bhangra, a Punjabi folk dance and music genre popular throughout South Asia, shocked me.<\/span><\/p>\n

I saw mini jhumkas, classic Indian earrings, swinging from the ears of two queer men as they kissed to a Bhangra remix of Ed Sheeran\u2019s, \u201cShape of You,\u201d surrounded by a group cheering them on. I immediately thought, \u201cIs this real?\u201d and \u201cOh, wow, I am underdressed.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

I stumbled upon a brand new world as a 21-year-old \u2013 one that I hadn\u2019t known existed even after living in New York City for a few years as a student at New York University (NYU). As I explored queer spaces in the West Village and Chelsea, it never even dawned on me that there could be one just for Desis.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

When I closed my eyes in the club, I envisioned my uncles in a circle dancing alongside one another in complete incoordination like I had seen at multiple family gatherings before. But to my surprise, I opened them to see other people my age waving me down to join in on the fun.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cDarling, it\u2019s no fun being in the corner!\u201d one person in a bright yellow dupatta, a long, shawl-like scarf, yelled at me as I silently watched everyone under the paralyzing strobe lights.<\/span><\/p>\n

I was beyond perplexed to see two of my so separate worlds coming together in such an intense way. All I could let myself feel was the sticky heat in the room that built up in the room from hours of constant commotion.<\/span><\/p>\n

I had no idea what to do with myself but I guess everyone else did as they pulled me in and swayed me back and forth to the beat. \u201cDon\u2019t think, just enjoy,\u201d another woman told me as she shoved her drink in my face. Much against my usual caution, I decided to take a sip and let myself dance along.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the whole room, there wasn\u2019t a single person without a wide smile.<\/span><\/p>\n

As the music came to a close, a trans woman in a bright pink, silk sari walked on stage to announce the three drag queens performing: <\/span>Malai<\/span><\/a>, <\/span>Chutney Chataranga<\/span><\/a> and <\/span>Kulfi Jaan<\/span><\/a>. Never in my life had I seen or even heard of a Desi drag queen. As I watched them perform, I realized how much I didn\u2019t know. How much of the world I had closed myself off from.<\/span><\/p>\n

Growing up in largely Desi communities in the United States, I had always assumed that my sexuality was always going to have to be separate from my cultural identity as an Indian woman. This space made me think for the first time: Why did I try so hard to drive a wedge between my identities when spaces like this have existed all along? Was I just too involved in my struggles to realize there was another way?<\/span><\/p>\n

These are the exact questions that many queer Desis find themselves asking after realizing there are ethnic-based spaces just for them. Learning about their queerness no longer needs to be done away from their Desi background, it can happen alongside it.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

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The Challenges of Being Queer in India<\/b><\/em><\/h5>\n

As with many conservative cultures, the ideals of the Desi community are based on tradition and religion. With <\/span>over 99% of India\u2019s population identifying with a religion<\/span><\/a>, religious practices are a very important part of Desi culture. A great deal of that tradition stems from the idea of having a nuclear family structure with a patriarchal mindset.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

In tandem with that mindset, many South Asian countries still have strict <\/span>anti-LGBTQ legislation put in during British colonial rule<\/span><\/a>, with India only decriminalizing sodomy in 2018. This makes queer people in Desi countries seek safe havens elsewhere.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

That is exactly what Shiva Misra, 22, did when he decided to leave India for college in the United States in 2020. \u201cIt was hard to explore my gay identity safely because [for most of my life] I knew I could be sent to jail simply for exploring my sexuality in India,\u201d said Misra, who now lives in Brooklyn.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

He recounted how he heard of a father publicly beating his son because he came out as gay. The son was thrown out of his home and Misra hasn\u2019t heard anything about him since. \u201cThat [made me realize], I don’t want to be in a society where that is my fate,\u201d said Misra. For him his reality was to live his life in secrecy or risk a similar fate to this man.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cI went from being really outgoing to a shy kid for most of my life until I came here,\u201d said Misra. He recalled many instances where people commented on his more feminine mannerisms and interests like dresses or nail polish. Many family members even made comments about hoping that his behavior was a phase, not even considering the possibility that he was gay.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

He added, \u201cI always told myself, \u2018Don\u2019t like this music\u2019 or \u2018Don\u2019t dance like that in public because people will know you\u2019re gay\u2019\u2026 I knew the way I was being perceived even when I was a kid so I became really anxious about the way I acted.\u201d<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

This led to Misra being put into cricket by his mother, encouraging him to be more masculine. \u201cI remember I would even memorize names of porn stars to show other guys that I was into women and stop them from questioning me,\u201d added Misra. He even went as far as denouncing gay marriage to help him fit in among his friends.<\/span><\/p>\n

In the process of suppressing his sexuality, Misra suppressed his personality. Arlene Stein, a sociologist focusing on sexuality and gender studies at Rutgers University, surmised that this prevented him from growing his identity in those pivotal years. \u201cSexuality is a particularly important part of one\u2019s life, especially as you are growing up. Your ability to express yourself through your sexuality has greater implications on your development as a person,\u201d said Stein.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

For Misra, the secrecy can often be difficult to navigate safely as well. Many people hide their name, age and face on apps like Grindr, which is one of the only ways to meet other gay men in private. Many of the men on these apps range in age from young teenagers just exploring their sexuality to older men who have been unable to be open about it.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

A survey conducted in 2018 by <\/span>Swasti Health Resource Centre<\/span><\/a> found that of the gay men who faced physical violence, sexual abuse, and\/or emotional torture, 52% of them were still living with their parents and mostly in the closet in India. Unsurprisingly, the study concluded that because these men live with their families, they need to keep their sexuality a secret, cutting them off from queer communities and peer support.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cI didn\u2019t have any friends that I could tell about the men I was meeting so I usually lied to my family and went to see them with no one knowing where I was,\u201d said Misra.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Simple precautions like having someone who knows where you are when you meet with a Grindr date are impossible for queer people in India. The secrecy drives many young gay men into only seeing closeted older men, because that way they can feel more confident about not being outed. Misra recounted a situation he was in with an older man he met through Grindr. The man, married with children, met Misra in secret. \u201cI realized that if I didn\u2019t leave India, I could end up just like him and I knew I couldn\u2019t handle that,\u201d said Misra.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

As I spoke to Misra it struck me that despite the struggles I had with coming out to my family and understanding my sexuality, I was never truly unsafe or on my own. I had supportive friends to turn to in the hard times. I had people I could ask questions to and support me in exploring my sexuality safely.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

It was hard for my parents to accept me but it was never a question of if, only a question of when they would accept my queerness. I was so incredibly preoccupied with understanding how my sexuality would fit into my life, that I didn\u2019t think about all the support and resources I did have. Even so, I struggled for years to understand my identity.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

When I began to talk a little more about my coming-out experience with Misra, he added, \u201cI know that what happened is really hard for you. But imagine like, if that was India, finding a friend to confide in and support you could end your life.\u201d<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Though India has <\/span>progressed to be more accepting<\/span><\/a> it is still difficult to be out in most parts of the country. Queer communities there still have to be cautious about how and where they create queer spaces and events.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cSince being gay was so taboo [in India], a lot of the event planning was done through word-of-mouth, Whatsapp or Grindr. Now, things have changed and in big cities, there will even be signs advertising gay parties and queer nights at clubs,\u201d said Misra.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Despite India not having a culture of being open to queerness, India has the third-largest number of users of Grindr in the world. It is also <\/span>the only Asian country in the top ten list of users<\/span><\/a>.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

One of Misra\u2019s first experiences of gay culture in India was at an underground party in Delhi. He went with a friend he met through the app Grindr, a location-based dating app targeted towards gay and bisexual men. \u201cIt was the first time I saw non-binary people, prostitution, and just homosexuality from people of all ages,\u201d said Misra.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Metropolitan areas have grown to have more open queer spaces but many are only accessible to the wealthy. <\/span>A majority of the queer spaces are in South Delhi<\/span><\/a>, the richest part of the city. According to Bloomberg, entry into queer spaces or queer bar nights can cost up to 600 rupees or $10 but that still closes off many low-income residents who might only make 400 rupees a month.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Though Misra is not out to his family because he doesn\u2019t feel safe enough yet, he is more open to developing a queer identity for himself back home. He has come to accept that his family will need time to understand his queer identity but sees hope in the changes he sees in India. Misra said that he would only do so if he was financially independent and could prepare for the worst in case his family doesn\u2019t accept him.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

This is a common situation for many Desi children who are queer. Most are unsure about how their family will react; oftentimes preparing for the worst and their own support elsewhere.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Many queer people seek out \u201c<\/span>found families<\/span><\/a>\u201d to help support them through their time away from their relatives. Many of these families become the main community that queer people rely on as a result of not having real support from their biological families for their sexuality or gender. This makes the <\/span>few openly queer organizations<\/span><\/a> that do exist in India integral to the community there.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cIf there are no options for you to live your life in the context of your family and culture then many turn to queer spaces to give them the love and support to have the confidence to come into themselves,\u201d said Stein.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

For Desi queers, found families usually have other Desis. Many queer people seek out a community that is both accepting but also share similar cultural backgrounds and upbringings.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

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A happy hour hosted by SALGA, a South Asian queer organization, for Diwali in 2022. Credit: Priyanka Hoepra<\/a>.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
Desi-Queer in NYC<\/b><\/em><\/h5>\n

Being in New York City helped Misra feel more open to exploring the different facets of his queerness and relationships. \u201cI learned that no one gives a shit in NYC. You can be really open here however you want.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

It was through NYU that Misra found a fraternity, international student clubs, and POC safe spaces that helped him better understand how to find a space for himself in New York City. The fraternity, <\/span>Delta Lambda Phi<\/span><\/a>, is open only to gay men as an alternative to the traditionally non-inclusive spaces that other fraternities. However, without any other Desi members, the fraternity can feel like someone else\u2019s space too.<\/span><\/p>\n

Jen Jack Gieseking\u2019s book, \u201c<\/span>A Queer New York<\/span><\/a>,\u201d<\/span><\/i> looks at how queer and lesbian neighborhoods like Greenwich Village, Park Slope, Bedford-Stuyvesant, and Crown Heights \u201chave folded under the capitalist influence of white, wealthy gentrifiers who have ultimately failed to make room for [the queer people who lived there].\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Gieseking discusses how gentrification is one of many factors that have made the majority of queer spaces catered toward older, white gay men, leaving little room for other queer people, let alone other ethnicities.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBecause I grew up in India, I never really thought to explore [the Desi] part of my identity [in New York City] but as I realized how non-inclusive queer spaces can be here I had to reevaluate what was most important to me,\u201d said Misra.<\/span><\/p>\n

Coming to New York City made Misra question how his Desi identity fit into queer spaces rather than how his queerness fit into New York City. He tried to be involved in both queer and Desi spaces but felt unfulfilled in both.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Much like other queer people, it was not until Misra was away from his culture that he began to wonder about combining his queerness with his cultural heritage. It became hard to unlearn the different ways he suppressed himself while also trying to navigate the predominantly white queer spaces that exist in New York City, especially as someone who is unfamiliar with the city.<\/span><\/p>\n

He explained to me how difficult it was for him to even gain the confidence to put on eyeliner. \u201cIt stressed me out so much that my hands would shake,\u201d said Misra. He had to explore his identity and self-expression slowly, which was harder to do without queer spaces that represented people like him.<\/span><\/p>\n

As time went on though, Misra found friends that helped navigate him through queer spaces. In 2022, he went to his first Desi queer party with a friend. There he got introduced to a queer-Desi Whatsapp group that now has over 700 members and over 30 different sub-channels for different identities like a channel just for lesbians.<\/span><\/p>\n

The chat is constantly used to promote Desi-Queer events like a <\/span>Holi party<\/span><\/a>, the Indian festival of color, just this past month. Instagram accounts like <\/span>@gaysiworld<\/span><\/a>, also host nights out for the community, giving another avenue of communication. The space helped him realize how many different spaces there were for him to connect with in New York City.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThere is no box that I fit into, but that’s what makes me different and I have come to enjoy that about myself,\u201d said Misra.<\/span><\/p>\n

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A picture Nirvaan took at his graduation ceremony at Columbia University in May 2023. Credit: Nirvaan<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
The Gaysi (Gay, Desi) Experience of an Older Man<\/b><\/em><\/h5>\n

Like many other queer South Asian people, this same sentiment led Nirvaan* (who requested a pseudonym), 34, to leave India later in his life to explore his bisexuality. Born in Kolkata, Nirvaan was raised in India, only leaving to pursue a master\u2019s degree at Columbia University when he was 31. While he was excited about the prospect of being able to explore his queer identity freely in the United States, he neglected to think about the other not-so-positive changes he would have to adapt to.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cBeing in the U.S. was the first time I had the confidence to come out after seeing other gay couples in public,\u201d said Nirvaan. He described being shocked seeing two muscular men walking out of a barber shop holding hands just a month after he moved to New York City. It was small instances like this that made him more comfortable with his partner; however, he still kept his sexuality from his Desi friends at Columbia.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI even kissed a man in public for the first time at a queer nightclub. But I still couldn\u2019t even talk about my sexuality with my Desi friends, especially the ones that came from India,\u201d said Nirvaan.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nirvaan met his partner, who grew up in Kansas, just a few months after coming to New York City. He was more openly gay than Nirvaan had ever been and his outward approach to queerness helped Nirvaan come into his own queerness.<\/span><\/p>\n

By joining Desi student organizations, Nirvaan found a piece of home at his university. But for him, that also meant the parts of home that weren\u2019t so accepting. \u201cIt\u2019s not like anyone said anything homophobic or anything, I just didn\u2019t know how to talk about my sexuality with other Desis,\u201d said Nirvaan.<\/span><\/p>\n

After meeting his partner, Nirvaan became more open to sharing his love life with his friends. \u201cMy partner was so open about his sexuality so I wanted to be open about us too. But I had friends that didn\u2019t understand me and people who have been discriminatory even within queer communities,\u201d he added.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nirvaan recounted how he had friends who found it difficult to accept his sexuality. In one circumstance he came out to a friend via his more \u201cliberal seeming\u201d wife while she took a picture of him and his partner at a cruise party they were on. He said simply, \u201cby the way, we are together,\u201d but looking back he said he was probably just stating the obvious.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cShe told [my friend] a few different times after that day but he would pretend to not hear her or wouldn\u2019t talk to her about it if she brought it up for months,\u201d said Nirvaan. He described his friend as having a more conservative mindset that made it hard for him to understand Nirvaan\u2019s sexuality. But over time he became more accepting and now they are close.<\/span><\/p>\n

When Nirvaan tried to lean more into queer communities, he was met with behavior he took to be exclusionary. He noted an instance where an older woman asked him if he was a Hindu, unprompted at a queer event. In another instance, someone came up to him asking where he was from because he looked so \u201cexotic\u201d and had an interesting accent.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cAs an Indian, I am very used to dealing with discriminatory issues with all the caste, skin color, homophobia that is common in India so I wasn\u2019t really upset by it, but it did make me feel like I would not be understood,\u201d said Nirvaan.<\/span><\/p>\n

The lack of cohesion in queer communities across the world can make it difficult for immigrants to find their place in queer communities that cater to mostly gay, white men. This adds another layer of difficulty for those who come to the United States to understand their own queer identity through participating in these exclusionary spaces.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI noticed generally that people are colder. I didn\u2019t have a community to fall back on.\u2014no one I could call for a ride to the airport or a friend to call on when I wanted to go out in the city. It was a really hard adjustment to make later in my life,\u201d added Nirvaan. \u201cBesides my partner, I don\u2019t really have any American, queer friends.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

However, Nirvaan was not just cut off from his friends in India when he came to New York City, he was cut off from his family. He is still not out to his extended family. For him, being open with his family does not seem like an option.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI have thought a lot about coming out to my family but I just don\u2019t see how that can go well. I think I have come to terms with keeping this part of my life separate from them,\u201d said Nirvaan. \u201cEven though I lived with a previous partner in Bangalore, I still felt that I would get found out somehow, and it’s hard to live like that.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

Even though he is out to his mom now, he was unable to do so until he was 26\u2014it wasn\u2019t planned either. In September 2016 when he was living and working in Mumbai, Nirvaan came down with a particularly bad health issue that prompted his mom to come for a visit.<\/span><\/p>\n

Once there, his mom met his boyfriend, who was constantly at his apartment, raising her suspicions. Finally, Nirvaan told her the truth. Eight years later, he said, she is still slowly coming to terms with it. Occasionally she still calls asking him to date a girl despite his being in a committed relationship with a man.<\/span><\/p>\n

Nirvaan still has yet to tell his dad and has no plans to talk to his extended family about his sexuality. Coming out to the extended family wouldn\u2019t necessarily even benefit him.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThey would probably just make things harder for my parents to come to accept me with their homophobic comments, I don\u2019t need them to ruin the progress I\u2019ve made with my mom,\u201d said Nirvaan. He also mentioned that coming out would affect his parents\u2019 relationship with others more than him since he was living away.<\/span><\/p>\n

Because of the close-knit nature of many South Asian communities, even in the United States, the opinions of others mean a lot in Desi societies. Many Desi communities are based on a culture that perpetuates gossip.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

In a similar situation, Sanober Lokhandwala, the mother of a lesbian daughter from Houston, said, \u201cWhen I found my daughter with another woman, my first thought was \u2018<\/span>log kya kahenge<\/span><\/a>\u2019 (what will people think)?\u201d She was more preoccupied with the reactions of others than she was discovering her daughter was a lesbian.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cLog kya kahenge\u201d is a common, colloquial phrase in Hindi. It highlights the importance that most Desi families place on their reputation within their community.<\/span><\/p>\n

It is ingrained into Desi society to always present the best image of you and your family. That often translates into keeping aspects of life secret in order to maintain a certain facade of what you want to look like: a perfect family with your educated children successfully marrying someone within the community. \u201cThe thing that was the hardest for me was to tell other family members and people in my community\u2014but at the end of the day I didn\u2019t want to make her hide who she was either,\u201d said Lokhandwara, who eventually helped her daughter come out to the rest of their family members.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I deal with this as someone who is out to my parents and sibling but not out to any other family members or family friends for the foreseeable future. (That\u2019s why I am publishing this under a pseudonym.) I have accepted my identity and in many ways embraced it but I don\u2019t want my identity to be a burden for my family. And I feel guilty about it: while I reap the benefits of participating in queer communities, they have to navigate the negative consequences of having a queer child.<\/span><\/p>\n

I am content where I am and know that coming out to the rest of my family won\u2019t hurt me \u2026 but it would hurt my parent\u2019s relationship with our other family members. Living in New York City takes me out of the Desi community my parents surround themselves in.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cIf families are rigid in structure and tradition, it’s often necessary for queer people to leave or they tend to suppress their basic needs. Leaving your country behind affords them a certain level of freedom,\u201d said Stein.<\/span><\/p>\n

There is a great deal of shame and guilt associated with being queer because you don\u2019t fit into the strict societal norms. Those norms can ostracize those that don\u2019t fit in.<\/span><\/p>\n

Stein added, \u201cUsually you come out to a family structure rather than a community. But if your family is embedded into a community, you have to come out to both.\u201d It can be hard to explore both your queer identity and stay in touch with your Desi culture because they are often not inclusive of each other.<\/span><\/p>\n

While there have been many identity-specific queer groups based on age, gender, sexuality, race, etc., there is still a great deal of progress to make for Desi communities. The largely religious and conservative nature of the Desi people adds a hurdle to social progression.<\/span><\/p>\n

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Aruna Rao and her child, Leo, at NYC Pride in 2019. Credit: Aruna Rao<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n<\/div>\n
Queer-Desi Support Groups<\/b><\/em><\/h5>\n

Over the past couple of decades, <\/span>Indians have grown to become the largest Asian population in the US<\/span><\/a>. The migration of Desi queer people to the United States adds to the already growing South Asian population, making identity-based organizations catering to the Desi population even more necessary in the United States.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

One of the notable ones is <\/span>Desi Rainbow<\/span><\/a>, an organization created in 2017 by Aruna Rao, the mother of a queer child in New Jersey. \u201cI realized how little support there was for Desi queer people after my child came out to me so I wanted to create that space,\u201d said Rao.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

After hosting a gathering at her kitchen table with other Desi parents with queer children, Rao was able to garner enough support to create a fully functioning non-profit organization with part-time staff members. In the meeting she said, \u201c\u200b\u200bQueer people should not just be accepted but celebrated. If no one talks about it, then how is anything going to change?\u201d<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

The volunteer-based organization hosts monthly support groups for both queer people and their family members, one-on-one focused sessions and social events. Support groups that are identity-specific can often add an extra layer of comfort for those who are just beginning their journey to understanding.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

\u201cBeing able to use things like Hindu mythology, which has clear examples of queerness and transgender people, helped put into context for me that this was not some new fad, it was something real,\u201d added an Indian parent who attended one of Desi Rainbow peer support group for parents in November 2023.<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

In the 90-minute Zoom session, 14 parents discussed all that comes with being the parent of a queer child: guilt, shame, confusion, fear and love. It was the one place all of them could ask without fear of judgment.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Some had cameras off, with no name and others proudly displayed their faces and spoke out about their journey of being a queer child\u2019s parent in the Desi community. They uniquely understood one another, coming together with the sole purpose of learning to care for their children in the way their children needed most.\u00a0<\/span><\/b><\/p>\n

Many questions came up throughout the session.<\/span><\/p>\n

\n
\u201cHow could she know if she hasn\u2019t experienced anything?\u201d<\/span><\/h6>\n
\u201cIs it just a phase?\u201d<\/span><\/h6>\n
\u201cWhat is a non-binary?\u201d<\/span><\/h6>\n
\u201cDid I just lose a son?\u201d<\/span><\/h6>\n
\u201cWill my child\u2019s identity endanger them?\u201d<\/span><\/h6>\n
\u201cWhat do I do now?\u201d<\/span><\/h6>\n
\u201cWhat will others think?<\/span>\u201d<\/span><\/h6>\n<\/blockquote>\n

While not every question could be answered, the support group helped give the parents a community. Shabitha Vankatesan, the mom of a transgender daughter, said, \u201cWhat helped me more than anything is not feeling alone in my journey. I have a space to ask questions that might seem hurtful but really it\u2019s just me trying to understand based on the little knowledge I have.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Many of these questions are the same ones their children probably also asked themselves as they were coming to terms with their identity and how that would fit into their lives.<\/span><\/p>\n

When I was struggling to understand my sexuality I would drive myself crazy trying to understand how I could be gay and still fit into all my family’s norms. As with many other Desi people, I wanted to have a big Indian wedding that all my family members could be proud of. I refused to believe I had to give up important cultural moments just because I was gay.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Another integral aspect of Desi culture is marriage, usually seen only between a man and a woman. The stringent family structure idealized by Desis everywhere leaves little room for queer identities.<\/span><\/p>\n

After a while, I had come to accept that things were going to be different. But listening to other Desi parents try so hard to understand their children gave me hope for the first time that maybe I didn\u2019t have to give up every dream I had.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I began to see little glimpses of the big, fat Indian wedding that I always wanted. The beautiful deep burgundy jeweled dress, the heavy pieces of gold jewelry on every part of my body with all my family members cheering me on.<\/span><\/p>\n

Desi Rainbow isn\u2019t the only organization to turn to now. There are other more locally-based organizations like <\/span>SALGA<\/span><\/a>, operating in New York City and Philadelphia, <\/span>Khush<\/span><\/a> in Washington D.C.<\/span>, <\/span>Satrang<\/span><\/a> in California and <\/span>many more<\/span><\/a> elsewhere.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

What sets Desi Rainbow apart is their attention to mental health needs, which is heavily stigmatized in the Desi community. Their support sessions provide a much-needed space for queer, Desis that are already cut off from their families.<\/span><\/p>\n

While these organizations are doing great work, it can still be hard to gain access to them or even know about them because they are so closed off from the rest of the Desi community or wouldn\u2019t otherwise have access to mental health support.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/span><\/b><\/div>\n
Desi Spaces Are Not Enough<\/b><\/em><\/h5>\n

Komolika, a transgender woman who came to the United States from West Bengal to study film and television at NYU, experiences similar disparities between Desi and queer spaces. \u201cThe biggest thing I struggled with was, they felt mutually exclusive,\u201d said Komolika.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI was bullied throughout grade school for being more girly and outgoing but even in those times I rarely felt disappointed by others’ actions. I expected that treatment from them. However, I was truly disappointed exploring young Desi spaces at NYU,\u201d said Komolika.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Having mostly grown up in India, Komolika had a perception of the United States as a haven for queer people but never thought about how spaces here could be discriminatory in other ways, especially in Desi spaces.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

At one of NYU\u2019s South Asian Students Association’s dance practices, Komolika and her friend entered expecting a space to mingle with like-minded people. Instead, they met with uninviting stares from the students at the dance practice.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The women and men were separated by gender as many of the dances were choreographed based on gender. Komolika joined the girls to learn their dance and felt stared at for even being there, let alone dancing with the other woman.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI wanted to join the girls and everyone was questioning why I wanted to do that but it\u2019s just who I am. Now that I look back I don\u2019t even know how I had the courage to be in space and stand up for myself when no one else really supported me or included me,\u201d said Komolika.<\/span><\/p>\n

There were a few girls in the group who were nice to her and tried to include her in the dance but most ignored her presence and made it clear that she was not welcomed. \u201cI think just because of NYU being so liberal they couldn\u2019t say anything to me directly but just off of their facial expressions I could tell what they were all thinking,\u201d added Komolika.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am pretty visibly trans and my friend and I dressed up for the event but my excitement about my outfit quickly turned into anxiety because of the rude stares we got,\u201d said Komolika.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

She was wearing jhumka earrings with colorful eye makeup with a simple outfit to dance in. \u201cSeeing the divide by gender and the completely heteronormative setup of the event made me quickly realize that even young, American-Desi spaces were not for me,\u201d added Komolika.<\/span><\/p>\n

She said both she and her friend were so uncomfortable that they left the event early, too upset to take part in the festivities. However, as college students under the age of 21, there weren\u2019t many other Desi spaces they could turn to in the city.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Even my experience at the Dickens only really happened because I was 21 and able to enter the venue. Before that, I didn\u2019t even know queer Desi spaces existed and even if I did know, I don’t know what I would have done.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cThe best gaysi [gay, desi] spaces I have been to are the ones I created for myself and my friends in my dorm room because I couldn’t [go to] a lot of the ones that existed,\u201d said Komolika.<\/span><\/p>\n

Experiences like this discourage many queer, Desis from exploring Desi spaces. As soon as I realized I was queer, it felt like a switch flipped for me, designated me as queer, and disconnected me from my Desi heritage. No one told me that I couldn\u2019t be both but when you grow up never seeing the two spaces together, it is hard to think spaces like that could exist.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI had to find a community on my own, often without other [non-queer] Desis because those are just the people that made me most comfortable and understood,\u201d said Komolika.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

This is one of many reasons that more queer Desi spaces are needed. Along with the issues she had with Desis in the United States, she also suffered from mental health issues because of bullying and lack of support in India.<\/span><\/p>\n

When Komolika was in 6th grade, she was being bullied frequently for her more flamboyant and feminine behavior which made doing well in school difficult. \u201cOne boy used to call me God’s mistake for a really long time,\u201d said Komolika. She explained that she would come home from school crying often from the name-calling and ostracization.<\/span><\/p>\n

At the same time, some of the boys in her grade would also try to experiment with her in private, making it difficult to explore her sexuality safely and healthily. Growing up as a \u201cnerdy, tall kid\u201d in her school, Komolika said she always stood out in school but it didn\u2019t turn negative until she got old enough to express her femininity more.<\/span><\/p>\n

She lost friends, her grades slipped and she developed serious mental health issues as the incessant bullying continued into her high school years until the 11th grade. \u201cOnce we all got older, I feel like everyone matured and people became more comfortable in their masculinity or femininity,\u201d said Komolika.<\/span><\/p>\n

She recalled an instance where a girl told a guy in their year that Komolika had a crush on him and no one cared. \u201cI was so nervous when she yelled it out loud but no one even reacted, it was not surprising to them,\u201d said Komolika.<\/span><\/p>\n

Her past bullying made it difficult for her to come into her queerness in India. But the exclusivity of Desi and queer spaces in New York City made it hard for her to find herself too.<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"
Komolika at the opening of Public Obscenities at Woolly Mammoth Theatre in Washington D.C. in November 2023. Credit: Komolika<\/a>.<\/figcaption><\/figure>\n
A Different Desi-Queer Space<\/b><\/em><\/h5>\n

However, Komolika has made progress in finding spaces for herself. As an aspiring actress, Komolika was brought on as an understudy for an English-Bengali production called \u201c<\/span>Public Obscenities<\/span><\/a>.\u201d\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The play centers around an Indian-American graduate student, Choton, who travels to Kolkata to film interviews with the local queer community while exploring his own sexuality in India for the first time. As the play goes on Choton starts to question both what he knows about queerness in India and what queerness and his Indian heritage mean to him.<\/span><\/p>\n

Walking into the Polonsky Shakespeare Center on a particularly frigid February afternoon just off the Dekalb Ave station in Brooklyn felt like I entered a queer version of Little India. I had never seen so many queer Desis in one space in daylight. Alongside the Desis excited to see the play were highfaluting theater geeks in chic ascots ready to take in the one-of-a-kind production.<\/span><\/p>\n

Komolika invited me to see the show to show me that Desi-queer spaces didn\u2019t just have to be at nightclubs or involve drinking. While I am not the biggest fan of plays or musicals, I knew this was going to be a must-watch for me for the simple reason that it was gay and Indian.<\/span><\/p>\n

As people filled the auditorium, I got giddy watching queer Desi friend groups from my mezzanine seat. I realized that I had never seen this many lesbian Desi women in my life. Though I have thoroughly enjoyed my time at gaysi events, I only ever saw gay men and their girlfriends\u2014I was almost always the only queer woman at the event.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

The show interchangeably used Bengali and English in each scene, presenting yellow subtitles for both on the wall of the set. It tackled language discrepancies between queer lingo and Bengali while exploring Choton\u2019s own experiences exploring gay communities in his hometown.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Throughout the whole production, I went back and forth watching the play and panning back to see the reaction of all the Desi people in the audience to check if they were just as amazed as I was. (They were.) Just hearing in an Indian language someone try to describe what it meant to be gay brought an irremovable smile to my face.<\/span><\/p>\n

Despite seeing the play live, I was still shocked that it even existed. When I left the show, Komolika and I caught up to discuss it and let me meet the cast. \u201cHave you ever been to a space that has looked anything like this?\u201d asked Komolika, referring to the people in the venue. I quickly responded with, \u201cI don\u2019t think I could have even imagined a space like this.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\"\"<\/span><\/div>\n
My Experience in India<\/b><\/em><\/h5>\n

Beyond just the space, I really resonated with Choton\u2019s experiences having come back from a trip to India just a few weeks before. While I grew up in the United States, the majority of my family is in India, and growing up so far away from them always made me feel disconnected from my heritage.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Most Desi immigrants seemed to return often to visit family, but I hadn\u2019t been back since 2008. Not only was I going to see my grandma after 16 years but I also was going to explore my homeland for the first time as a gay woman.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

While I was ecstatic to be on the trip, I was also apprehensive about how it would feel to be there. And I wasn\u2019t wrong to worry. Almost immediately after I got to India I got into a tense discussion with my uncle about American politics and how I liked India.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cSay what you want about India, but we respect family values here. There is a reason we don\u2019t have all those gay issues that the U.S. has,\u201d he said referring to the legalization of gay marriage and LGBTQ+ activism.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Though I have support from my parents about being gay, they asked me not to come out to the rest of my family. And just like that I was shoved back into the closet.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I completely understood why my parents didn\u2019t want my identity out. What I didn\u2019t anticipate, however, was how it would make me feel to see the world as a closeted person once again.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

Suddenly I was hyper-aware of what I said. All I could think about was how gay my life was. I interned for an LGBTQ+ human rights organization. I ran a queer club on campus. Almost all of my friends are queer. My favorite study spot on campus is the LGBTQ+ Center. I felt more gay than I did Indian here.<\/span><\/p>\n

Because I dress in a feminine way, nothing physically about me could be construed as queer, which made me feel safe. But I began to notice that in the three weeks I was there, I didn\u2019t see a single visibly queer person. Not a single rainbow in sight, which would never happen in New York City.<\/span><\/p>\n

I wondered how many people around me were queer but, like Shiva and Komolika, just didn\u2019t feel safe enough to be more visibly queer. How many closeted queer people were around me? How many of them were hiding in plain sight? In loveless marriages with kids and a home?<\/span><\/p>\n

I couldn\u2019t escape conversations about marriage. Whether it was about me, my sibling, my cousins, or their neighbor\u2019s son, the topic came up in conversation almost every night. And every time it was mentioned I got a pit in my stomach.\u00a0<\/span><\/p>\n

I would never have the wedding they expect me to. It became obscenely clear that coming out meant that I would lose the relationship I had with them. I felt an ounce of the issues Nirvaan, Komolika and Shiva went through in India and could barely handle it.<\/span><\/p>\n

Every pointed question about my future from each family member felt like an added weight on my shoulders. No matter what I said, all I could think about was how I was lying through my teeth about who I was.<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI haven\u2019t even graduated yet, I haven\u2019t even thought about marriage.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI am definitely not seeing any guy.\u201d<\/span><\/p>\n

\u201cI actually don\u2019t want a big marriage.\u201d<\/span><\/p><\/blockquote>\n

I saw how stringent the family values were in my relative\u2019s lives. Even beyond feeling uncomfortable about being gay, I was unsettled with the lives the women in my family had. Each one is a stay-at-home mom with kids, which is not a fate I see for myself. <\/span><\/p>\n

The trip as a whole made me spiral into an identity crisis. It certified that there truly wasn\u2019t a place for me in India as a queer woman. It was a tough realization to come to terms with. I yearned to be more in touch with my Desi roots and my time in India solidified that I would have to be more creative in how I would do that.<\/p>\n

American queer spaces weren\u2019t made for me. Desi spaces weren\u2019t made for me. But queer Desi spaces popping up around the country gave me hope that there is a place for me somewhere.<\/span><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

As I entered The Dickens, a gay club in Chelsea, on a particularly hot Friday night in August 2023, the sound of Hindi songs I grew up with echoed through the long, red-lit staircase up to the venue. The doors opened to what I could only describe as my utopia.\u00a0 A sea of Desi people […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_acf_changed":false,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[2],"tags":[],"class_list":{"0":"post-54","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","6":"category-all","7":"entry","8":"has-post-thumbnail"},"acf":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=54"}],"version-history":[{"count":8,"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":185,"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/54\/revisions\/185"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=54"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=54"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/shoeleathermagazine.com\/2024\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=54"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}