Arun Kumar* loves wearing gold. You could see the gold bling from across the field. Dressed in a dark green kurta with nails painted light green, Arun says he feels complete at the Queer Azaadi March this year. “It is the first time I’m cross dressing. I always wanted to try to dress this way, but I was too scared to even try back home,” he says. Coming from Bengaluru, this is the first time he is attending the Mumbai Pride Walk. Consciously adjusting the press nose ring he wears, he complains about what a bad a job he has done with his dressing. His foundation, compact and a matching bright green eye shadow prove otherwise.
The Mumbai Gay Pride or the Queer Azaadi March (QAM) is one of the biggest pride parades in the country. Ever since the march first started out nine years ago, it has not only become a symbol of protest, but has also gone on to be a celebration of the queer community’s identity. Sporting elaborate — and fabulous — costumes, raising important and quirky slogans, the pride reflects the strength of the queer community.
Roshni, a “proud transgender woman” tells us the joy she feels being at the walk. “Today is the only day when we are legal in the country,” she says, as she fans herself with an elegant purple hand fan. Elaborating on the struggle of the queer community, she continues, “We are fighting a battle everyday, not just against the Supreme Court or against the part of society that doesn’t support us, but also with ourselves. There are so many transgender women I know, who are in the closet and are struggling everyday.” For Roshni, realising she was transgender was no surprise; she always felt like a woman, “Like a little girl who loves to wear frocks and frills!” she laughs.
Amidst all the loud chanting and the colourful slogans, one group of middle-aged women dressed in all white with orange coloured phetas (turbans) stands out. “We are mums standing here for equality!” shouts one of them. They call themselves The Jam Network (with origins on WhatsApp Messenger) and profess equality across all genders and sexualities. “Everyone deserves to give and receive love,” they chant. The coloured phetas represent masculinity and the nathani (nose rings) represent feminity, they say. When posing for pictures, half of them strike a deliberately feminine pose and the others flex their muscles in a ‘manly’ pose.
Dr Sam is a very busy man today. He is walking around briskly handing out condoms packed in bright red packets as he shouts, “Make love safely.” Explaining that he’s part of an awareness group, he says, “We’re here all the way from New Delhi to spread the message of love and protection.” As he rushes off as if to fulfil his duty, a quiet, small man stops him, quickly takes six packets, and shoves them down his pocket, as he looks around, smiling.
Tabassum* promptly asks if she can use a pseudonym instead; she doesn’t want to be out there. But what she is proudly doing at the walk is walking hand in hand with her son, as he shouts loudly in support. “His name is Anwar and he completely supports my decision,” she smiles.
Nissar is a dumb and deaf transgender man who is present at the walk for the very first time. He stands tall in a bright red glittery dress and nods enthusiastically when asked how he is doing that day. He works for Humsafar, an NGO that promotes LGBTQ rights, and, as his friend tells us while admiring him, “He’s always dressed to the point — looking like a queen!”
Even as the pride walk is filled with people conscious of their true identities, who try to hide their names and faces, a proud transgender explains, “It’s more important that we came out to ourselves, that we know our own truth.”
*names changed to protect identities
