Gaysi: The Gay Desi - Yes, we're legal!

How does it feel to be in a closet? To be invisible? How does it feel to not have a voice? To be called a joke, a threat, a freak?  Disconcerting, isn’t it? That’s why I keep insisting, we should move and must settle outside India. A place where we can live without fear & prejudice.

But, I do not wish to choose the life of an exile! We will carve our own little niche, here, in this very country.

How can you not understand me? I want us to be more than just “living together”. I want access to all basic human rights. I want us to have a family, kids, dogs, you and me, darling. I want all this and much more for us. Uff! I wish I could make you see the future I envisage for us.

Oh ho baby, I would want to raise our kids here, in India.

Don’t be funny, it would be no different there.

It would be. I wouldn’t even know how to relate to my own child! I would be an alien to the language, education system and to the very world they would be growing in! No matter how much I learn of that culture; it would never be enough. We will always remain aloof from each other.’

But aren’t we responsible adults? We will give them a quality life, a well deserved life. I will really try hard to make it all work, I promise. Please, help me with this.

Really? And how would they relate to the historical evidence of our reality? Don’t you see there is just so much more to you and me than what our eyes can see? It would be like leading a split life.

I don’t want to exist between lines.

We always will… No matter which side of the line we are.

First the stereotype. People often think of lesbians as having short-hair, their upper lips unwaxed, their clothes manly, their behaviour closely resembling a man. While this is true of some lesbians, it is not true for others. Think Portia De Rossi. Think Cynthia Nixon. Sorry I don’t have any Indian examples for you. If you’ll take my word for it, I can tell you that I know desi lesbians that are feminine and girly and I know desi lesbians that are boyish and I know some that are in between.

So if your daughter does not wear saris and salwar kameezes or wears baggy jeans with flannel shirts, don’t assume that she’s a lesbian. On the other hand, if your daughter does dress in a very feminine manner and has a beauty parlour appointment every 2 weeks, that doesn’t mean she is straight.

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[Guest Author: The Bride]

This post on Gaysi Family made me recall a couple of conversations.

One night I asked V what how he would react if his child told him he was gay. The thing is while I tend to analyse issues and think about these things quite a lot, V tends to coast along without really declaring himself.

Some people have these conversations before getting married to determine whether they are compatible. This is probably the sensible route but it’s not one I took. I plunged into, if not marriage, the idea of marriage and never had any serious discussion about fundamentals (except about living with his parents, which I said I wouldn’t do, and which V now says he doesn’t remember happening so that was entirely pointless). Also, V tends to be pretty much the standard Indian male, except that he does a lot more housework and seems to have a pretty chalta hai attitude to most things (except me not making the bed in the morning, which I never do anyway).

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Over the decades, urban Indian parents have chipped away one reservation after another in the interests of their children’s well-being. Most parents today easily accept that their children may marry someone outside their caste, creed, and even race. They accept their children’s drinking, dressing, and dates. But even the most liberal parents are finding it difficult to consider the possibility that their child may be gay. [Link]

This is a piece written by Manju Sara Rajan for Open Magazine, which briefly touches on the subject of straight Indian parents and their homosexual children.

For a moment it took me back to 80s & very early 90s filmy scenarios. You know the bit where hi-fi bling bling parents learning that their beloved, overly pampered eklauta child has fallen in love, in a high pitched tone utter these very words – Love…tumhe love ho gaya? How dare?

My apologies for this amusing flashback, but the situation today is pretty much the same no? Replace Love with Gay and you have – Tum Gay ho? How dare?

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A heartbreaking post from a fellow-gaysi, over at Devis with Babies:

But when my partner and I decided to get married that changed. My parents wouldn’t come. And, what was worse in my eyes, they wouldn’t discuss it with me. They just told me they couldn’t be there. When I sent photos of our ceremony in Massachusetts, they didn’t respond. When, two year later, I called to tell them about Raya, my mom cried and my dad said they had to go. I don’t call them anymore. But I write them letters every month. Raya has begun writing letters to them too. She calls them Ba and Dada. She has seen pictures and she knows about them. Every Diwali, we send them a diya that we make together. [Link]

I was in a perplexed state, didn’t know which route to take. And when you don’t know which road to take, you tend to follow the one that everyone ambles on. I was no different. I thought it was normal to think about girls. So I spent a lot of time thinking about them. Rather forcing myself to think about them, sexually. But, I didn’t have any feeling of sexuality. So to develop one, I used to spend long hours in the bathroom. Forcing myself to think of girls. Every time. But I didn’t feel titillated by their breasts or their feminine charm. I thought I was abnormal. I thought that my abuse is making me asexual. I felt weak mentally. I couldn’t let someone walk on me and leave a negative impact on me for life. Terrible, it felt to reach climax without an orgasm. It was like fighting a battle with my inner self. Nature seemed to be against me.

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