Third Gender Identities in South Asia and their Cultural Significance in Modern History
Andrew Kazim
“Hijras are often seen doing mangti (begging) at busy intersections. The chelas knock on car windows to ask for money in exchange for their blessing… They fear that if they don’t give money, we might curse them with bad luck. We beg to feed ourselves. Even if they don’t want to, they’ll still give money. They’re scared they’ll be reborn as hijras in their next life, or they’ll lose a loved one, or have bad business… During mangti, I’ve been beaten many times. Some people have ripped my clothes. Nobody sees what’s good about us. People see us from a negative perspective. Some people even slap us, or will just tell us to go away. The police never help us. They discriminate against us or they pressure us into having sex with them.”[1]
The above passage is a testimony provided by a hijra to a Western news outlet, describing her experiences during mangti, a transaction that asks civilians to pay for services such as blessings. Despite this being a fair transaction, average civilians hold a hostile view towards Hijra who are asking for payment, yet many still pay for the service. This is one of the few ways that hijra make money in the present day; it resonates with their traditional practices at childbirths, weddings, and other communal events to support and provide blessings to their communities. The negative perception of Hijra by the public can be seen through the police brutality and violence that many of these individuals go through in the present. However, the story of the Hijra did not start in the 21st century and third gender individuals have had a presence in South Asia for centuries.
The Hijra are a modern group of individuals that live in South Asia, identifying as a third gender that is legally recognized in the 21st century, these individuals are born male but do not identify with their sex. Many who identify with the term also consider themselves as “Demigods” and beyond the identity of an ordinary individual. Their history and community tell the narrative of resilience against social and cultural oppression while striving to be understood as human beings, just like many other transgender or indigenous third identities that exist throughout the world. For the Hijra, the survival of their culture comes often from small communities or gharana that are set up with a Guru, the teacher, as well as the Nayak that is the gharana’s figurehead, living as a family with one another. However, the gharana have not been empowered enough to combat the social systems that keep the Hijra oppressed or marginalized. The fear from the “common” citizens of the Hijra creates a continued circle of refusal to accept the people. In many spaces where Hijra make their livelihood, there is public resistance to their presence and a physical harm that is often pushed onto these individuals. This fear has roots in colonial policy that still impacts the daily lives of Hijra because of the dismissal in understanding the relationship of gender within pre-colonial culture and Hinduism.
The Hijra are also significantly connected to the historical term of the Khwajasarai, third gender individuals who had a role in the Mughal Court, the center of governmental powers, during the rule of the Mughal Empire in South Asia. While the Khwajasarai were individuals with social status and political power, it was ultimately the British East India Company’s policies that enforced Western standards of gender that removed them from their societal role. Much like the Guru or Nayak of a gharana, the Khwajasarai served as holders of “knowledge traditions of teacher-disciple lineages, practices of kinship-making and elite codes of masculinity”.[2] In early attempts to police the Khwajasarai, British officials used religious laws to assert themselves into the territories power structures, but in doing so, they indirectly invalidated the conceptions of sexual practices and kinship that the Khwajasarai held power in.[3] Ultimately, the British were able to assert the control that they wanted over the region using British standards of gender and instituted policing and regulations on homosexual activities, Khwajasarai and other non-Western standards of presentation and identity. The history of discrimination towards individuals who stretch beyond the binary lens of gender and sexuality is drastic in South Asia; it is still ongoing in ways that legal policy of reparations cannot disrupt. This paper will argue that the history of discrimination towards the Indigenous gender identities of South Asia run so deep that despite efforts to support the agency of Hijra and other individuals, there is more of a need for a cultural shift in attitude towards the Hijra overall. With this understanding of gender dynamics, many Hijra have understood this as a call to action and at times have alienated other Hijra in rural areas, who are non-Hindu, and belong to a lower social class or caste.
Western Misconceptions and Defining the Hijra
Throughout the West and many other parts of the world, there is a common misconception that third gender identities or transgender people are a recent phenomenon, but it could not be further from the truth. In this paper, the word Hijra, Indigenous gender identities, third-gender identity will be used instead of euro-centric terminology such as trans, transgender, or eunuch, unless a specific individual has associated themselves with it. As Vaibhav Saria, author of Hijras, Lovers, Brothers: Surviving Sex and Poverty in Rural Identity and professor of anthropology, explores the idea that “Hijras, with their long-documented history, are not a local or cultural instantiation of the global category of trans… Hijras were referred to as “eunuchs” in much of colonial discourse and in English language dailies until quite recently”.[4] As time progresses, the West learns to adapt and accept the terminology that best describes and translates the power of the identity of the Hijra, but using words such as eunuch and transgender continue to fail to embrace the diverse group that identifies with the term. From Hindus to Muslims and many more cultural or religious groups within India, the Hijra have a shared and complex history that must not be ignored. When simplifying Hijra to be “transgender”, the West continues to assert that their language and cultural understanding of gender is superior.
Unlike how Western culture has defined gender identity as a sole relation to one’s gender presentation and given strict roles to conform with, the Hijra have a more complex relationship with society, religion, socio-economic status, living situations and more. The West simplifies gender into a binary that has influenced the Global South and other countries that were colonized which creates a struggle for Indigenous people that fall into a “third gender” to be respected even if they have deep roots within their communities. Numerous Indigenous gender identities, such as the Hijra, are defining for themselves how their expression should be perceived. For many Hijra, they understand it to be a culture: “a tradition and a community that has its roots in ancient times” and those who see themselves as transgender understand it to be “more like an identity. We see ourselves as transgender. There is no pressure from the community. We’re free to do what we want. But if we want to be hijras, there are rules restricting our actions.”[5] There are significant repercussions with the association to the Hijras that is not carried through people who align themselves with the trans community, therefore, these groups are different. The Hijra have found a way of life and form gharana to survive which is not a culture that exists within trans communities. The Hijra are ostracized and limited to how much they are able to do, being forced to beg for support in the streets, more subject to being attacked and having no intervention or protection. Because of the harm that is conducted towards the Hijra, it is essential to learn about their practices, community structures, and gain a basic understanding of their livelihood. In effect, the understanding of how individuals identify can assert agency towards a group that is still oppressed within Indian society.
A main critique from the Hijra community about misconceptions is the inability for some to recognize the difference between the Hijra and trans identity. Saria describes “Using the word ‘transgender’ is a way to avoid using the word ‘hijra,’ since the word has been and continues to be used disparagingly by some people; it is a way of respect, as seen in the text of Indian legal and parliamentary documents.”[6] By not using the word and specific identity, many disempower this marginalized community. As individuals in the West, it is essential that usage of language by a specific community is asserted into academic scholarship and common language when discussing issues that affect a certain population. While many legal documents in India fail to establish a difference between the Hijra and transgender people, it is the job of all those who wish to advance Hijra rights to practice asserting agency to this community by using the correct terminology.
While terminology is often misunderstood in transition, it still remains the job of Western audiences to remain vigilant to the Hijra. For the Hijra, they have connected their spiritual existence for thousands of years in relation to Hinduism. Many connect to Ardhanarishvara, a deity that presents both masculine and feminine through god, Shiva, and goddess, Parvati. In Hindu mythology, there is a specific reference towards a third body that does not fit in the binary of female or male that is further supported by the existence of Ardhanarishvara: the symbolic understanding that femininity and masculinity are interconnected forces.[7] In the present day, the Hijra are still highly connected to the spiritual aspect of their identity and understand how others perceive them as people who can both bless and curse because of their connection to Ardhanarishvara.
While the Hijra continue to re-empower themselves in society through the gharana, there are other dynamics that make the community of the Hijra complex and beyond the comprehension of Westerners if only looked through a particular lens. Because the Hijra associate themselves highly with Hinduism, there has been a stretch to rename themselves as the “Kinnar”. Saria addresses that this particular project of renaming the Hijra by using Kinnar is more often found in urban centers where access to privilege is more common. However, many activists believe that “it could possibly be an alibi to absorb hijras within ascendant right-wing Hindu nationalism”.[8] There is a threat of Hindu nationalism which attempts to nationalize Hinduism and justify oppression for individuals who are not Hindu, most notably, Muslims. This directly harms all Hijra as well as non-Hindu Hijra is significant and heavily impacts liberatory practices that can be conducted towards all trans and third gender identities throughout India. The small population that benefits from a close proximity to Hindu nationalism does not make up for the exclusionary practices of other marginalized people within Indian society or contribute to lessening the societal fear of the Hijra.
Global Indigenous Third Gender Identities
Besides South Asia, especially in present day-North India and Pakistan where the Hijra predominantly live, there are numerous indigenous gender identities that are often erased or excluded from the welfare of the present-day government and institutions. While these individuals served as community builders or held positions to help care for children, because of the influence from European colonizers that asserted their two gender binary traditions, many of these communities are shamed. Despite those forms of oppression and marginalization being current to these groups, it is important for a Western audience to understand that many of these individuals, across the world, still hold positions of power in their society. Even with their positions of power, many are often disenfranchised by political institutions and society even though they have existed as identities for hundreds or thousands of years.
Within present-day Mexico, an Indigenous third gender identity, Muxe, has existed for centuries within the culture of Zapotec people prior to the pre-Columbian era and colonialism. In regions around the Zapotec people, there were many gods that were both women and men explaining the diversity in gender conceptualization.[9] As an identity, these individuals are Mexican Indigenous male-bodied, differently gendered people that do not fit into Western standards of the binary. The Muxe continue to maintain traditions of the Zapotec from the language, dress, and other elements of culture that are no longer practiced but do not serve as religious representations of Meso-American gods or higher powers like the Hijra do in India. Originally, the Muxe worked to preserve culture by completing traditional feminine tasks such as embroidery or craftsmanship and today, they continue that legacy by maintaining community.
The Muxe and third gender individuals in South Asia have a parallel history because of colonization. Prior to the arrival of Spanish, French or British gender influences, third gender individuals had a significant role in their communities and gender was not viewed in a binary way where only male or female was acceptable. However, because of this long history of colonization and the establishment of gender binaries into South Asia and present-day Mexico, there is a societal push to exclude and discriminate against individuals who have previously been considered sacred.
Historiography
The study of third gender identifying individuals across time and cultures has drastically differed depending on the political nature of the time period. The focus on each dynamic of queer or third gender identity ranges depending on new media developed, more civil rights protections being established, and the activism of local communities for recognition. Historians such as Ruby Lal and Emma Kalb tell the story of Mughal Authority and how that impacted third gender individuals. Kalb illustrates how the Khwajasarai were placed on different levels of hierarchy within the Mughal Courts; some had specific access and privileges that were not given to other third gender individuals unless earned. Lal focused more on how different Emperors, such as Akbar, discussed or valued the Khwajasarai and explicitly mentions how they were enslaved individuals, taken from their families at a young age. While some of these individuals were able to achieve high status in the court, they were not able to choose their identity and served the Court by its immediate needs.
Queering India: Same Sex Love and Eroticism in Indian Culture and Society by Ruth Vanita as one of the first major examinations of queer culture in Indian society throughout the last two centuries. The monograph was published in 2002 and specifically, Vanita was inspired to write the book based on discussions raised by the film Fire by Deepa Mehta. The author’s thesis is focused on how colonialists and nationalists focused on and continue to target old traditions and completing the process of “rewriting” the traditions, trying to create uniform traditions and simplify history. The context of this book is powerful as it came to be published soon after the rise of feminist, dalit, queer history and cultural studies in India in the 1990s. Despite being written early in the contributions to Indian Queer Studies and History, Vanita explored the idea of Hijras using Hinduism to explain identity but is unable to connect Hindu Nationalism, which was briefly mentioned in the chapter, to the evolution of Hijra rights.
While the early discussion of Section 377 in historical research did not focus on the impact the policy had on Hijra, Jessica Hinchy’s research changed the focus towards addressing the restrictions and policing of Hijra during colonial India. Hinchy also furthered research on the Criminal Tribes Act of 1871 which explicitly mentions “eunuchs” which was the term that the British used to describe the people known as Khwajasarais in some regions of India.
Two of Hinchy’s first major articles were published in 2014 which was the same year as National Legal Services Authority v Union of India (NALSA). The NALSA made the decision that granted Hijras recognition as a third sex as well as the right to choose their gender classification. Additionally, it sought to grant Hijra access to affirmative action policies since it recognized them as a group that was historically discriminated against. The historical context of Hinchy’s articles are relevant because it led to a significant shift in the study of queer culture in India, one that focused solely on same-sex relations to a more holistic view of queerness including people who identify as Hijra or transgender.
Vaibhav Saria studies third gender individuals in South Asia in the present through an anthropological lens. Their work explored how Hijra communities have formed and continue to face different challenges based on their location and economic status. Saria’s research is a dedication to telling the stories of Hijra through an ethnographic lens in a time period where Hijra are marginalized by society and their lives are highly impacted by identity, kinship, and economic value.
As the historiography of Third Gender individuals in South Asia continues, I hope to expand on the modern day consequences of the disenfranchisement: the oversimplification of gender identity that created the Hijra label, the alliance between Hijras and Hindu nationalists, and the continued push to assert “transgender” rights over same-sex marriage and relationships in India. While some of the historical works have focused on a post-colonial movement against Section 377 and the Criminal Tribes act 1871, they lack an analysis on how the 21st Century reactionary Hijra pair themselves with religious nationalists and those on the far-right that alienate same-sex attracted individuals. Many of these pieces of scholarship discussed trans and gay individuals as separate communities which has manifested into the politics of Indian society rather than sharing a similar history and a continuing narrative of betrayal despite allyship between all queer people across the globe. Additionally, research beyond Northern India and Pakistan must be done to tell a more diverse story of how these identities originally were disenfranchised.
Third Gender People in the Pre-Colonial Period: The Khwajasarai
During the Mughal period, there were structures that allowed local princes and royalty to assert power in the 16th to the 19th Century; one of these structures was known as the Mughal Court that was a form of rules and laws. In the Mughal Court, there were significant expressions of hierarchy and control that were asserted through royalty in the palace. In these spaces, eunuchs “served as another element in this formation of space, as embodied boundaries and mediators”.[10] There were individuals who served roles to ensure safety and security of the leader, meaning that private spaces within the harem or sleeping quarters must have been kept. Despite this, eunuchs of different privileges and levels within the hierarchy had powers to enter these spaces.
Before they were able to attend to these responsibilities and tasks, young Khwajasarai needed to prove that they were ready to assume adult responsibilities. Unlike other youth in society who could access more responsibilities through the process of puberty, “that competence in adab [Islamic values of proper manners and conduct] was a significant marker of adult-hood may have broader relevance, particularly for male Islamic childhoods.”[11] This would cite how differently treated third gender individuals were even if they had status in the court because they were forced to follow good manners and proper conduct with standards above their peers. Additionally, this led to “acculturation and kinship-making were broadly speaking part of the experiences of slave children in early-modern and modern South Asia” where “forming cultural and interpersonal links appears to have been an important way in which child slaves coped with their enslavement and deracination.”[12] The young Khwajasarai were held to higher standards and taken from their homes at young ages to serve the court; community within the court by third gender individuals was needed for survival and assimilation where they formed new cultural ties and personal relationships.
Within the Mughal Court, there were different positions for the Khwajasarai. The third gender people served the Court but also participated in the harems, “a sacred area around a shrine; a place where the holy power manifests itself”.[13] There were some “personal attendants (khawāsān) and palace eunuchs (mahallīyān)” that would be “present behind the emperor” along “with the nāzir (eunuch superintendent of the household) also flanking the emperor on stage left… the master of the ceremonies (mīr tūzuk) stands in front of the emperor, behind the most powerful Mughal state officials such as the wazīr al-mamālik, with mace-bearers (gurz-bardārs)”.[14] While these individuals did not hold the highest position within the courts, the significance of their inclusion behind the emperor shows the power structures that had been established to demonstrate their significance. Additionally, there were some eunuchs that have been shown throughout historical preservations such as the narration of Mahābat Khān’s coup that demonstrate how these individuals were “stationed in proximate positions close to the emperor and around the more restricted parts of the palace.”[15] The freedom of movement with little restriction is an important note for any person who exists throughout time and the ability for the Khwajasarai to have agency is notable to their own power and significance in each court. Even with unequal power dynamics because of a social hierarchy that was built, eunuchs were still able to exist in close proximity to individuals of higher stance and had the possibility to move up the power structure into nobility. Often their stories are recorded in archival highlights another display that these individuals held strict importance, even while it ranged, within society.[16]
The duties of the Khwajasarai would change based on the Court context because there were no fixed tasks placed on individuals or strict caste divisions for these tasks, but certain privileges could be denied to others based on status within the Court. Some examples of this blend of power include the fact that “a water carrier could (and did) write a memoir, a foster nurse could serve as a diplomat and a swordsman could be a storyteller, however strict the codes of conduct that they were expected to follow.”[17] Agency and movement based on proximity to the emperor did not limit your duties because anything could be significant in service to the Court.
The Khwajasarai had a close proximity to the emperor through their ritual practices. In formal public spaces and the inner areas of the palace, they still were able to take up space. Depending on the position of the Khwajasarai, they served “on practical functions, such as holding fans, passing on petitions, or standing guard” that were essential to the success of the hierarchy.[18] For some functions of the court, Khwajasarai were able to “achieve positions of intimacy, knowledge, and influence with the emperor and members of the royal family” and throughout time, there have been numerous eunuchs of high status that could be a part of close encounters with the royal family. Depending on the emperor, the prominence of the Khawajasarai changed, however, one thing stayed consistent: the gesture to forbid castration of young boys. However, “ ‘all Mughal emperors from Akbar down to Awrangzeb… no one had previously issued an injunction against a practice that had enslaved young boys and turned them into eunuchs without their consent”.[19] This reasserts how third gender individuals were enslaved and seen as necessities to the functionality of the Court.
Despite their differences in gender presentation or the status of being an eunuch, there were a range of opportunities while also still having low-ranked eunuchs that “could become entangled in moments of political conflict, intrafamilial and otherwise, a situation that provided greater opportunities but also heightened risk”.[20] There would also be women and non-eunuch males serving in similar positions throughout the palace, but significantly, the Khwajasarai were not excluded from practices that were held by those other than male or female. With the exclusion of Khwajasarai in the history of India and the Mughal Court, a significant part of the diversity of gender and status can be erased.
The Colonial Period and Legal Discrimination Towards Third Gender Individuals
With colonist intervention, the historical significance and positions of the Khwajasarai within society were erased in the British colonial period. By being a third gender identity, the Khwajasarai caused significant moral panic to the British colonizers but have also been left out of the exploration of Indigenous gender identities throughout history. Hinchy made it clear that “the majority of archive life histories were recorded as accounts of ‘eunuchs’, not ‘Hijras’. It is sometimes difficult to distinguish those ‘eunuchs’ who identified as Hijras from those who found themselves categorised as ‘eunuchs’ because they crossdressed in theatrical or ritual contexts, or because their everyday gender expression was non-binary”.[21] Any usage of the term Hijra that provides quotes or evidence from Hinchy’s monograph, Governing Gender, will be italicized as her politic and understanding of third gender identity had changed between her monograph and prior works. The italicization represents how Indigenous terminology was stripped during the colonial period but Hijra was a term that can not fully represent all individuals who were discriminated against in regards to their sexual or gender presentation. Hinchy illustrated how the “British East India Company’s interventionist policies towards Indian-ruled principalities intensified, setting the stage for Awadhi khwajasarais to become embroiled in the sexual politics of imperial expansion.”[22] The Khwajasarais were seen as a threat to colonial rule because of their knowledge, traditions and practices of kinship-making and community building; they could easily resist the policing that was provided by colonial power.
To continue to assert control over the region and to force individuals to conform to Western standards, there were high levels of policing. Laws such as the Criminal Tribes Act of 1871 and Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code targeted the Khwajasarai disproportionality. During the period of policing, “colonial law marginalised diverse domestic and kinship forms that offended Victorian sensibilities”.[23] The Indian Penal Code was a part of legislation that was drafted in the 1830s by Thomas Babington Macaulay but was not enacted until the 1860s; the Code was inspired by English laws and the British’s need to codify their own standards across their colonial territories. Section 377 of the Code, part of Chapter XVI that related to punishment of Sexual Offences including rape and Sodomy. The extent of “the imprisonment (for life, or alternative up to ten years) of ‘[w]hoever voluntarily has carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman, or animal and specified that penetration was ‘sufficient’ to constitute ‘carnal intercourse’”.[24] Because the author focuses on the policing of the performances, she stressed the importance of the Badhai, Hijra’s traditional performance, as an event that is held during weddings or childbirth. The moral panic that came from the British colonial officers and British masculinity was pushed on Hijra.
Hijra were targeted between 1850 to 1900 while sexuality was being regulated by Section 377. Hinchy described the significance of the term Hijra in modern day Pakistan and Northern India, placing the Hijra in a particular region rather than creating the idea that third gender people in South Asia all identified the same way. Instead of a gender overview of the Hijra, Hinchy provided information on how “the North-Western Province (NWP) government, the contested representations of Hijras in official archives, were a troubling hurdle to suppressing the community and demonstrated the failure of colonial intelligence collection”.[25] The colonial government failed to execute many of their actions towards prosecution because of their lack of understanding of Hijras.
The major shift in the attitudes towards penetration and the development of Section 377’s power from different court cases throughout the 19th Century. Section 377 was defined by courts to prosecute individuals and the process of defining what penetration was. Ultimately, a “judge in the Brother Anthony case also concluded without adducing any reasons, that of the sexual perversions he had originally listed, only sodomy, buggery, and beastiality would ‘fall into the sweep’ of Section 377.”[26] Vanita described how the British were able to assert their power through their own gender and sexual expectations but were able to figure out more about Indian affairs to these issues through British men keeping mistresses. One of the first strategies that they worked on was dividing Hindu and Muslim religious customs and standards but ultimately, judges decided on a standard definition for what the Section criminalize. Vanitas’ work that explored third gender individuals focused more on the cultural presence of “transvestites” in theatre. An emphasis is placed on how Hijras re-invented the culture of theatre but were ultimately held back due to that taboo placed upon them because of their connection to women and womanhood. The author did choose to focus on how Hijras used Hindu myth to create aspects of their womanhood; early in their prosecution, Hijras were using justifications for their existence such as their morality due to the connections to Hinduism.[27]
For the British colonizers, it made logical sense to find a way to oppress the non-confirming individuals to better enable all conformity throughout India but they first had to identify who they were and how they did not fit into society. For a thirty year time frame from the early 1870s to the beginning of the 20th Century, “Hijras seen as pimp, dancer, bard, performer, indefinite and non-productive/miscellaneous and disreputable.”[28] Western standards of productivity and value in society were vastly different from Indian perception. The Khwajasarai and other Indigenous third gender identifying individuals existed within India for centuries, creating a clash of culture and values.
This legislation addressed “Unnatural offenses” which were used as a direct target on Khwajasarai as they did not fit British standards for gender presentation and was an active threat to patrilineal order that colonial law wished to instill throughout India. As this legislation was being revised, the presence of Hijras were becoming more relevant to colonial rule, especially throughout the 1850s, as they were represented as the symbol of Indian sexual perversity. By the time that this Code was officially placed into law, Hijras were seen as a danger to children and therefore, a greater threat to society.
While Hinchy supported the Khwajasarais’ original power structures, an examination of the transfer of power was also made. With the influence of colonial government, the “definitions of the family and notions of sexual respectability narrowed greatly” and “evangelical ideology produced new middle-class definitions of the ‘private’ sphere of the household as a domestic and feminine domain, demarcated from the masculine ‘public’ sphere.”[29] Hinchy examined how class and perceptions of gender identity changed rapidly due to new government structure under British rule.
Similarly, The Criminal Tribes Act of 1871 was further legislation that helped to criminalize Hijra in Indian society. It sought to criminalize the Hijra as kidnappers, castrators, and sodomites which were already punished through the IPC.[30] The CTA allowed for the prevention of physical reproduction from Hijra, forced cultural elimination, removed children from Hijra care, further criminalized actions that Hijra sought to create a means of livelihood, and created interference with Hijra succession practices. Overall, the Hijra found their identities as well as domestic arrangements policed by the CTA. Police officials were allowed increased surveillance powers that allowed them to control the public presence of Hijra as well as conduct investigations onto “registered people’s” [people who were suspected to be eunuchs or similar classifications] households, removing children from their care by force.[31] Despite the various lives that Hijra lived, their gender presentation, domestic arrangements, and entire livelihoods were policed by the colonial government. Another form of control of colonial oppression to the Hijra was prevention of physical reproduction, interference in Hijra discipleship or succession practices, removal of children and complete cultural elimination.[32] The colonial government attempted to deal with the “issue” of the Hijraby ensuring there were no generational communities that could support rebuilding or maintaining their culture. The British viewed Hijrasas “figures of failed masculinity” that dressed as women and believed that Hijra needed to be eliminated from society to protect the image of proper masculinity according to Western standards.[33]
Hinchy discusses that sexuality and gender identity were unevenly disciplined on a local level.[34] This examination of how colonial law was drastically different based on location in colonial India was newer in the research of transgender identities. By explaining the complex relationship with law and policing, Hinchy described the agency the Hijras had to resist discrimination and described how they used strategies to negotiate and used gaps in control to evade punishment.[35] The turn towards providing agency and highlighting resistance is powerful for this time period where transgender individuals are asserting their own agency in the modern day.
Overall, this specific article makes a lot of commentary about how the lack of enforcement of policy allowed the community to perform and cross dress without policing or made decisions to move to Indian-ruled states to continue their practices, being strategic about their political borders to maintain identity.[36] For the first attempt to move to assert agency towards queer individuals in colonial India, the author used the original terminology of the Hijras to restate political power to that label that had been stripped from that marginalized group in the 19th Century.
Decolonization and Efforts for Third Gender Rights in the 20th Century
After decades of cultural erasure and violence towards the Indian population, South Asia became liberated from the colonial presence in 1947 after the end of World War II through the Indian Independence Act. A main part of the liberation movement was a commitment to anti-colonial nationalism by the newly established Indian government and to implement international pressure on Britain to decolonize after WWII. The anti-colonial movement focused on reclaiming or assembling parts of Indian culture that had been erased because of Western standards. Embedded into the Indian Constitution which was created in 1949, secularism was enshrined because the Indian National Congress, a political group that had led parts of the liberation movement favored an India that would maintain religious diversity. However, other political interests such as Hindu Nationalists were frustrated, wanting to create a country that would strictly follow Hinduism and reclaim the territory for people who followed the religion and exclude Muslim Indians. Despite the conflict that built in India over religious rights, new leaders of the Indian government quickly overturned some elements of harm that had been done to the region under British rule. The Criminal Tribes Act of 1871 was one of the major laws examined and was repealed the same year that the Indian Constitution was created in 1949. Even though TCA was overturned, Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code that created anti-Sodomy laws, targeting homosexuals was not removed. Some progress was made for third gender individuals but not homosexuals.
While the Indian National Congress remained in power for five decades after initial liberation of India, the late 20th Century saw a rise of neo-liberalism and Hindu nationalism in India. Neo-liberalism not only opened up the Indian economy to foreign capital and privatization but created economic deregulation and led to rising wealth inequality in India during the 1990s.
Hindu Nationalism took advantage of the rise of neoliberalism that took attention from class conflict which divided working-class people and led to a major deflection of class-driven anxieties onto minority communities. The influence of Hindu nationalism would continue to strengthen within Indian electoral politics in the 2000s.
Internal and External Discourse in Third Gender Identity in the 21st Century
As a country within the Global South, India continued to see the effects of colonialism in the 2000s. Elements of right-wing populism emerged in India focused against cultural globalization despite the onslaught of Western culture on India and Hinduism. Through the 2014 and 2019 elections, the BJP won the largest majority asserting Shri Narendra Modi into the role of Prime Minister. Alongside these changes the 21st century has seen various attempts to legalize a recognition for a third gender classification, but more specifically, to recognize the Hijra. In 2014, there was a dramatic shift in the legal recognition despite previous rulings that had supported the anti-sodomy laws created in the 19th century that discriminated against homosexuals and targeted the Khwajasarai. The UK Constitutional Law Association published commentary in reaction to the ruling of National Legal Services Authority v Union of India (NALSA). This decision from 2014 declared that Hijras must be legally treated as a third gender classification group. The commentary stresses how the decision is a direct contrast to previous decisions even a year prior that ruled sodomy, which the Hijras have historically been associated with, as criminal action.[37] The new protections granted to Hijras include recognition as the third sex, right to choose their presentation/classification, and are now granted affirmative action privileges for being a group historically discriminated against. PM Modi, who would express intent on protecting transgender individuals throughout his time in power, assumed office in May of 2014, a month after the publication of this review of the decision and the decision itself.
A few years following the establishment of the legal gender classification, the Indian Supreme Court Overturned Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code. One of the organizations that commented on this historical ruling was The Human Right’s Campaign also known as THC. THC is an international organization that has its origins in Washington D.C. and was founded in the 1980s. Throughout its expansion, the Western organization has taken interest in ensuring universal protections for LGBTQ+ identities across the world. After the decision that overturned Section 377 of the IPC, before official removal from the IPC from law in 2024, the organization celebrated this historical win in 2018. HRC Global Director Ty Cobb acknowledged the historical win by congratulating “the LGBTQ advocates who worked tirelessly for decades to achieve this tremendous victory. We hope this decision in the world’s largest democracy and second most populous country will set an example and galvanize efforts to overturn similar outdated and degrading laws that remain in 71 other countries.”[38] For the Western audience who has little knowledge of the historical legacies of colonial Britain’s enforcement of anti-Sodomy laws, the announcement by the HRC does not outline how important yet complex this accomplishment is, allowing for Westerners to believe that progress has been completed. The commentary notes that the IPC is a result of colonial rule enforced in 1860 and emphasized its criminalization of adults of the same sex but not the historical usage to disempower third gender identities. The organization includes that it was PM Modi’s decision to allow the Supreme Court to make this decision and chose not to directly associate his government with the case.[39] An Indian member of the HRC staff, who worked to support the case’s argument, was quoted in the article addressing the affirmation of the right to one’s body and the right to love but the language is vague towards the audience, not claiming to be a clear protection for transgender people.
Despite efforts to receive certain status for recognition, there is still a lot of conflict within the Hijra community. Because there are different ways to contribute to the economy and receive payment, many Hijra argue over the “better” way to interact with the public and that begging should be considered shameful. Some Hijra go as far as to consider that Hijra who “beg on trains [are not real Hijra]. They have no honor and are just gandus’” because they belong “to these old, respected, established hijra households with large numbers of celas and nati-celas, whose right to take money at weddings and child births were undisputed, even protected by the police”.[40] Even with the difference of opinions on how to receive payment, Hijra who ask for money on trains provide a transaction through blessings and “work very hard to earn their money… Getting ready entailed bathing, putting on makeup, wearing clean, gaudy saris, and hiding large pins”.[41] There is a sacrifice for Hijra who put themselves in harm’s way for these transactions and labor is performed through negotiations beyond the daily efforts to get ready and wear proper attire for the day.
The Hijra and Hindutva Collaboration
As legal recognition has expanded, it can be noted that a tactic for Hijra’s to be accepted into Indian society is through collaboration with the Bharatiya Janata Party. The BJP is a political party that currently controls the Indian government and is one of the major political parties.In 2019, the BJP released a manifesto that explained their political agenda for the next several years if elected. The BJP had been in national political power since 2014 after not having won the position of Prime Minister for their party since 1999. The Prime Minister until 2019 had made vague statements of his support for the Hijra or transgender community, but in this manifesto, the party makes a clear stance in protecting the security of the “transgender community”. The manifesto’s section header is entitled “Empowering Transgenders” is a strong commitment to maintaining and re-asserting power dynamics that third gender identities in India had previously had. One promise embedded in the BJP’s policy is a commitment “to bring[ing] transgenders to the mainstream through adequate socio-economic and policy initiatives.”[42] Despite being a far-right, religious nationalist party, it has prioritized the protections of an universally marginalized identity across the world.
The act, The Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act of 2019, is defined as “an Act to provide for protection of rights of transgender persons and their welfare and for matters connected therewith and incidental thereto.”[43] The protections granted in the legislation extend to the entire country of India and need to be enforced by the central government. The main protections address non-discriminatory access to education, employment, healthcare services, the right to property, and stop denying transgender people from being denied public office. Transgender people can also have formal recognition of their identity as a transgender person and the legislation lays out the application for recognition. This legislation was passed in 2019, the same year as the re-election of the BJP and PM Modi’s solidification of power for another five years. Earlier that year, they had released their manifesto that had addressed making transgender people “more mainstream” and this protection act is a commitment to their protections of that community. The amount of individuals that have benefited directly from this legislation continues to be examined, but the limitation of progress can be noted by the unwillingness to use words native to the South Asian continent.
However, there still remains push back from a diverse range of voices that believe that using Western terms, instead of Indigenous ones like Hijra, limit the amount of progress that can be made. Individuals of high caste privilege such as Laxmi Narayan Tripathi, believe that supporting Hindutva and justifying the caste system guarantees her safety as a third gender individual. In advancing her own political agenda to support third gender rights, she has actively excluded many from the narrative and continued the oppression of other marginalized groups within India. She has joined Hindutva politics to argue that the Temple of Ram, needed to be rebuilt after its destruction by the Mughal Empire despite the direct marginalization it has put on the Muslim minority within India’s borders. Others, usually from marginalized castes or religious backgrounds, believe that there is more to the fight for equal rights than what Tripathi has proposed. There are other ways to assert rights for Hijra and third gender individuals than sympathizing with an oppressive government that does not listen to the specific and diverse struggles amongst non-men and women.
Teaching Third Gender Identity in Social Studies Classrooms
Beyond the Hijra and other third gender identities throughout South Asia, there are hundreds of Indigenous cultures that centered non-male or female individuals in their communities throughout history and the present. As educators of culture, religion, and World History, social studies teachers have a duty to discuss the diversity of gender presentation and why certain individuals are discriminated against in their modern societies. No matter their race, transgender and third gender individuals deserve opportunities to see themselves throughout history. Often, rhetoric is used to insinuate that trans and gay people are “new” and have not existed for centuries but teaching third gender individuals across cultures, continents, and races can fulfill the mission of getting rid of a Euro-centric curriculum. With a significant increase of Asian American, specifically South Asian Americans, in the United States, a curriculum that increases visibility into Asian culture and life is essential. Supporting students who are immigrants or first generation students from South Asia starts with making their cultures visible in the classroom and remains even more true for students with multiple identities that are marginalized such as being trans.
A social studies classroom can choose to reflect on this country’s contribution to colonizing nations in the Global South and address how the country founded on colonization with the attempt to remove, displace, and harm Indigenous populations. In the United States, trans rights are constantly being debated and movements for cisgender queer individuals to separate themselves from associations with transgender people. Anti-trans hate and legislation has spread around the United States within the last ten years, especially with the rise of Christian nationalism and the alt-right Conservatism. The ways that India and the United States have manifested various beliefs of acceptance and legal recognition for different queer groups shows the complexity of gender history. An introduction to this topic in our classrooms can help to create conversations within the diaspora but also a reflection to students of European descent, those who have to reflect on their privilege and ancestor’s role in removing acceptance for third gender individuals.
References
ABC News (Australia), “Gender and Sexuality in Hindu Mythology | India Now! | ABC News,” (ABC News: 2022) https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8ZZAD9FhTw.
Bharatiya Janata Party. “Manifesto 2019”. 2019.
British India. “The Indian Penal Code”. 1860.
Bureau, The Hindu. “Supreme Court Rejects Review of Its Same-Sex Marriage Judgment.” The Hindu, January 9, 2025. https://www.thehindu.com/news/national/same-sex-marriage-supremecourt-dismisses-petitions-seeking-review-of-october-2023judgement/article69081871.ece.
Chisholm, Jennifer. “Muxe, Two-Spirits, and the Myth of Indigenous Transgender Acceptance.”
International Journal of Critical Indigenous Studies 11, no. 1 (2018): 21-35. doi: https://doi.org/10.5204/ijcis.v11i1.558.
Hinchy, Jessica. 2015. “Enslaved Childhoods in Eighteenth-Century Awadh.” South Asian History and Culture 6 (3): 380–400. doi:10.1080/19472498.2015.1030874.
Hinchy, Jessica. 2019. Governing Gender and Sexuality in Colonial India : The Hijra, c.1850-1900. Cambridge University Press.
Hinchy, Jessica. “Obscenity, Moral Contagion and Masculinity: Hijras in Public Space in Colonial North India.” Asian Studies Review 38, no. 2 (2014): 274–94. https://doi.org/10.1080/10357823.2014.901298.
Hinchy, Jessica. “The Sexual Politics of Imperial Expansion: Eunuchs and Indirect Colonial Rule in Mid-Nineteenth-Century North India.” Gender & History 26, no. 3 (2014): 414–37. https://doi.org/10.1111/1468-0424.12082.
Höfert, Almut, Matthew M. Mesley, and Serena Tolino, eds. Celibate and Childless Men in Power : Ruling Eunuchs and Bishops in the Pre-Modern World. Abingdon, Oxon ; Routledge, an imprint of the Taylor & Francis Group, 2018.
Journeyman Pictures, “Demigods: Inside India’s Transgender Community.” (2019).
Kalb, Emma. “A Eunuch at the Threshold: Mediating Access and Intimacy in the Mughal World.” Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 33, no. 3 (2023): 747–68. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1356186322000827.
Khaitan, Tarunabh. “NALSA v Union of India: What Courts Say, What Courts Do.” UK Constitutional Law Association, (2014). https://ukconstitutionallaw.org/2014/04/24/tarunabh-khaitan-nalsa-v-union-of-india-what-courts-say-what-courts-do/
Republic of India Parliament. The Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act.
Peters, Stephen. “India Supreme Court Overturns Colonial-Era Law Criminalizing Same-Sex…”(Human Rights Campaign: 2018). https://www.hrc.org/press-releases/india-supreme-court-overturns-colonial-era-law-criminalizing-same-sex-relat.
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[1] Journeyman Pictures, “Demigods: Inside India’s Transgender Community,” June 15, 2019, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YxL5qfbtKqg.
[2] Jessica Hinchy. “The Sexual Politics of Imperial Expansion: Eunuchs and Indirect Colonial Rule in Mid-Nineteenth-Century North India.” (Gender & History, 2014), 416.
[3] Hinchy, “The Sexual Politics of Imperial Expansion”, 420.
[4] Saria, Hijras, Lovers, Brothers, 3.
[5] Journeyman Pictures, “Demigods: Inside India’s Transgender Community.” (2019).
[6] Vaibhav Saria. Hijras, Lovers, Brothers: Surviving Sex and Poverty in Rural India. (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2023), 4.
[7] ABC News (Australia), “Gender and Sexuality in Hindu Mythology | India Now! | ABC News,” June 27, 2022, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K8ZZAD9FhTw.
[8] Saria, Hijras, Lovers, Brothers, 4.
[9] Jennifer Chisholm. “Muxe, Two-Spirits, and the Myth of Indigenous Transgender Acceptance.” (International Journal of Critical Indigenous Studies: 2018), 25.
[10] Emma Kalb. “A Eunuch at the Threshold: Mediating Access and Intimacy in the Mughal World.”, (Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society 33: 2023), 752.
[11] Jessica Hinchy. “Enslaved Childhoods in Eighteenth-Century Awadh.” (South Asian History and Culture: 2015), 393.
[12] Hinchy. “Enslaved Childhoods in Eighteenth-Century Awadh”, 394.
[13] Almut Höfert, Matthew M. Mesley, and Serena Tolino, eds. Celibate and Childless Men in Power : Ruling Eunuchs and Bishops in the Pre-Modern World. (Abingdon, Oxon: 2018), 96.
[14] Kalb. “A Eunuch at the Threshold”, 756.
[15] Kalb. “A Eunuch at the Threshold”, 755.
[16] Kalb. “A Eunuch at the Threshold”, 753.
[17] Höfert, Almut eds. Celibate and Childless Men in Power, 100.
[18] Kalb. “A Eunuch at the Threshold”, 756.
[19] Höfert, Almut eds. Celibate and Childless Men in Power, 103.
[20] Kalb. “A Eunuch at the Threshold”, 768.
[21] Hinchy, Governing Gender and Sexuality in Colonial India, 143.
[22] Jessica Hinchy. “The Sexual Politics of Imperial Expansion: Eunuchs and Indirect Colonial Rule in Mid-Nineteenth-Century North India.” (Gender & History, 2014), 414.
[23] Hinchy, “The Sexual Politics of Imperial Expansion”, 420.
[24] Hinchy, Governing Gender and Sexuality in Colonial India, 52.
[25] Jessica Hinchy. Governing Gender and Sexuality in Colonial India : The Hijra, c.1850-1900. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2019), 119.
[26] Ruth Vanita ed., Queering India : Same-Sex Love and Eroticism in Indian Culture and Society (New York: Routledge, 2002), 22.
[27] Vanita, Queering India, 171.
[28] Hinchy, Governing Gender and Sexuality in Colonial India, 41.
[29] Hinchy, “The Sexual Politics of Imperial Expansion”, 420.
[30] Hinchy, Governing Gender and Sexuality in Colonial India, 107.
[31] Hinchy, Governing Gender and Sexuality in Colonial India, 2.
[32] Hinchy, Governing Gender and Sexuality in Colonial India, 93.
[33] Hinchy, “Obscenity, Moral Contagion and Masculinity”, 284.
[34] Hinchy, “Obscenity, Moral Contagion and Masculinity”, 276-277.
[35] Hinchy, “Obscenity, Moral Contagion and Masculinity”, 277.
[36] Hinchy, “Obscenity, Moral Contagion and Masculinity”, 286.
[37] Tarunabh Khaitan. “NALSA v Union of India: What Courts Say, What Courts Do.” (UK Constitutional Law Association: 2014), 2.
[38] Stephen Peters. “India Supreme Court Overturns Colonial-Era Law Criminalizing Same-Sex Relationships”, (Human Rights Campaign: 2018), 1.
[39] Peters, “India Supreme Court Overturns”, 2.
[40] Saria, Hijras, Lovers, Brothers, 109.
[41] Saria, Hijras, Lovers, Brothers, 115.
[42] Bharatiya Janata Party. “Manifesto 2019”, 36.
[43] “The Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act”, (Republic of India Parliament: 2019), 1.
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