Due to the lack of widespread legitimate recognition in the area of the LGBT+ Community, oftentimes the members of the same are resolutely ignored and, in most cases, alienated. They are considered no longer a ratified member of the society and their uniqueness is interpreted in the likes of a contagious virus.
LGBTQIA+ people have at several points in time being legally excluded from the public eye, and now it has transformed into a plethora of illegal yet forgivable acts of harassment, exclusion, violence and discrimination against such people.
My closet is a library, with nested closets filled with epics and love stories of that my heart wishes it would recreate, in this heteronormative world.
My closet frees me, my closet restricts me.
I look down at my rainbow socks, I used to cover them with black school stockings. I stare at them like I stare at my abyss and get caught up amidst flashbacks.
As queer individuals in a homophobic and transphobic society, we are always striving to integrate into the very systems that have marginalized our identities. In doing so, we are tempted to adopt a conciliatory, pro-establishment approach.
More often than not, we tend to fall in love with a depiction of how we feel about our selves.
I am out to most people in my life – sister, cousins, friends, friends of friends, professors, coworkers – except my parents. That’s a tricky one.
Self love? How can I force my mind into loving a body that it cannot relate to. A mind that fails to find space in its vessel. It’s a terrible and violent act.
I always say that before I met Spoorthy, I did not understand what love was. Her love changed me, my anger, Casanova-nature, rudeness, and my all-time decision of not marrying anyone. I never used to believe in any relationships and always said that money could buy anything and everything. Her love taught me to smile, care for everyone, listen to others, and give other chances too.
In her live video, she recalled incidents of solitary confinement at a mental health centre because her family believed that they could "cure bisexuality." She had been a subject to domestic abuse and mental torture resulting in depression and suicidal thoughts.
There is an inherent problem in assuming we can only talk about our personal lives and nothing else, that we are somehow remote from, say the migrant crisis and Islamophobia during COVID-19. By foregrounding one aspect of ourselves at the expense of other equally important concerns, inclusivity efforts in their present restrict rather than expand our civic engagement.
Can we be cautiously optimistic that this unprecedented and once-in-a-lifetime crisis will change the gay narrative, particularly in India?
She ignores my remark and continues to dream about her second daughter marrying an upper caste boy and raise sons. The last time I let the truth slip out, she laughed it off as a cruel joke.
Growing up, I always saw myself as British Asian. That was the culture that I was born into and existed in. But this identity conflicted with itself. British and Asian are two words that felt like two entirely different worlds, and it seemed almost impossible to be both.
Sweeping pieces of my heart from under the bed, the table and shedding the bits that get stuck to the broom is old. But damn, it felt so much worse after us. Your complex cage set me free and returning to you felt better than seeing the world.
Tomorrow might never come, my love. The sun might burn us down before we choose to sit back and think of what we haven't felt. Stop cutting away your lonely pieces before you run out of yourself. Bind your crevices with the strength of your tears and accompany yourself in your hard times.
I now remember a circus
It was no fun
I hate clowns too
they remind me of McDonalds
Never really liked McDonalds.
Why am I thinking of food, again?
Am I still smoking?
As montage, everything appears as a series of windows, all of them just frames, one after the other. The form is predetermined. I only meet my friends when we say goodbye or when I have to pay my dues. Then it falls apart.
Spreading smiles, and love to everyone I meet, I am a popular girl, you know, the bubbly and cuddly piece of happiness, everyone wants to have a share of.
I unfolded the letter and looked at my clean handwriting. It was dated 30 December 2018. I had written it on my 19th birthday and it was addressed to someone very important to me.