TW: description of conversion therapy
This debate began on a whim that went unsatisfied; it began that night when I received a phone call from my aunt (Khala). Being the eldest she took matters into her own hands. “I want you to meet some people,” she said. A little bit of context: I’m a transgender woman raised in a conservative Muslim family, where our inheritance is subjugation. I had recently moved out from my parent’s home, a decision that ended up infusing chaos into my family.
“What do you mean by some people?” I questioned. I coaxed her out of her initial hesitation as she explained that she just didn’t want to leave any strands of hope unattended, no options unused. The people were a group of ‘healers of the soul’ from the Sufi tradition, who wanted to have a conversation with me on matters regarding my sexual orientation and gender identity. Initially, my answer was a big NO, as it indicated conversation therapy; I decided to make my boundaries clear and my stance firm.
Moving out and settling wasn’t easy. I was struggling to manage expenses and facing constant pressure from my family to reverse my decision as they thought that it was not mine but rather one taken under the influence of the queer community. My unemployment added further distress to all this, and with the rent due, I was spiralling into an imminent burnout. I called my aunt and decided to meet those ‘healers of the soul’ on one condition: if I manage to convince them my Aunt will cover my rent for that month. The absurdity and optimism at the same time led to the most unexpected of events in my coming out story.
The meet-up was at Mujib Park in Jamia Nagar, Delhi. There were 3 of them waiting for us under the Java plum tree. Skepticism and fear took over me at the sight of 3 men in white kurtas greeting us. We sat down and after a bit of small talk, the main course needed to be served. My aunt began drawing a picture of what possibly went wrong with me, according to the collective perception of my entire family. That it was influence of Delhi University’s queer circle that had introduced me to the rest of the community. Meanwhile I was busy mustering an ounce of strength to speak up. Eventually I began by stating: “I believe you are all aware of the fact that I identify as a woman”.
I enquired what their stance was on this matter, to which one of them who was probably in his late 40s and a doctor by profession, replied that he respects the feeling aspect of it, but not what queer people make of these feelings. The queer agenda would irk anyone, according to him, and the other 2 men nodded in agreement. They had reduced an entire community to mere propaganda in my aunt’s curious, hopeful, and watchful eyes, knowing nothing of my pain. I decided to narrate my reason for being there, and that I was neither representing the community nor was open to discussing anything outside the realm of my individual experience and beliefs. I was there for the sole purpose of sorting my rent, and was not in the mental state to deal with moral obligations and toxicity. One of the younger ones decided to add to their own purpose of this meet-up – he was in his late 20s and a psychologist by profession and probably the keenest of them all. He said that he was there to understand and empathize with my suffering and to aid me in it, that it shan’t be that out of suffering that I make meaning as that is not stated in the word of Allah, and that I felt this because I am this, but Allah subhanahu wa ta’ala (the most glorified, the most high) is greater than my suffering and in his greatness I shall heal. The beguiled nature of his sympathetic smirk disguised as empathy reduced my identity to a refuge for my pain and mere propaganda. In theory, he talked about Carl Jung, Erick Erikson and Sigmund Freud to provide context to how I possibly developed this notion of identity that was not of the norm. To this, I ended up mentioning (in another session with them) why not include the theories of Andrea Dworkin, where it can be seen that she was a trans ally. It appalled me that they shunned all feminist readings as post-modern and misinformed, including readings on Islam!
Things actually went worse in a more recent therapy session that the youngest one of the 3 wanted to facilitate, under the pretext of calming out the distress between me and my family. The session included my mum and my aunt, and it was probably the most vulnerable I was since I came out. He wanted to trace the entirety of my childhood to figure out the genuineness of my feelings and intensity of my persona as a woman. He pointed out that my family never happened to witness any feminine traits (nazakat) in my behavior since childhood, to which I put forth that I never exhibited any masculine traits either and that because I had witnessed the bullying of other children who were effeminate, I knew what not to be. I explained all the painful instances that brought me to the acceptance that ‘I am a woman’. But by the end of session, I realized that for the therapist it was never about logic or creating space to co-exist but instead his own ego that he had confused with empathy under the disguise of duty (farziath). His final solution was for me to give one chance to let go of my gender identity and that would also require me to go under medication to curb the pain of such a sacrifice. The family therapy session ended with conversion therapy as a religious and medical option on the table.
