On one hand, I read the news about the Uttarakhand government tabling a draft uniform civil code bill in its state legislative assembly. Wherein one of its provisions hopes to explicitly regulate live-in relationships in the state for the first time in the country. Live-in relationships must now be registered with the government, it reportedly proposes. This makes me wonder how non-normative, inter-caste, inter-religious relationships will be treated. What about flatmates, as queer lovers and partners have often been historically construed as?
The same day, I learn of Jebin, a gay man from Kottayam in Kerala, who lost his live-in partner, Manu to a fatal accident. Manu had been on life support in a hospital until he passed away, but his mortal remains could not be released until Manu’s natal family claimed them. Manu’s family had been estranged due to his relationship with Jebin, and they refused to claim the body or pay the hospital its dues. Jebin, with the help of friends crowdfunded the amount, and Manu’s family eventually claimed the body on the orders of the Kerala High Court. It was heartbreaking to learn of Manu’s state of grief and helplessness in this situation.
Delhi government announced free bus access to the “kinnar” community, (which arguably means the transgender community), in addition to women. Reports say that state-issued transgender card will be required to be shown. Trans-men and non-binary folx are expected to be disproportionately affected due to this oversight.
Our personal relationships have become the most politicized battlegrounds. Our bodies are easily read as queer by the most lecherous gaze out there, even as states debates over our free, unrestricted access to safe, public transport. How do we dream of a world where we can build care communities around our queer selves?
