A recent report by Gallup Pakistan on the attitudes of Pakistanis uncovered that 55% of the population believes transgendered persons should have a special quota in educational institutes and offices,  while at the same time, 60% would not like to be friends with them. The Express Tribune ran a similar online poll as a follow-up to the report with the question: “Would you be friends with a transgender person?” The result at the closing of the poll was an even 50 per cent in favour of befriending a transgender person, and 50 per cent against. Keeping in mind the Tribune’s audience, it is still interesting to note that the Gallup survey was not far off target. While the poll result may be disappointing in itself, what is perhaps worthy of highlighting is the reversal of the general trend we have seen online, with regards to comments on the news report the web team filed. For once, the ‘silent majority’ which opinion makers often cite as waiting in the wings to build a more progressive Pakistan stepped forward to lead the debate. To cite a few: Dr Adnan:

Our people are far too intolerant about the LGBT society. I think they have the right to Study, Health Care, Jobs etc so they can earn themselves a honest living, instead of involving themselves in Sex Trade, Begging etc.

our society is highly intolerant,prejudiced and bigoted.We are afraid of what is different & we all want to conform to the traditional,stereotyped images when it comes to religion,gender etc.

We have decided that unisex are obliged to beg or be sex workers or to dance in the weddings and being treated so coldly, we have decided and allocated the role status and freedoms of Qadyanis that they have to sign and take oaths anyway and so do we have to prove that we are not them, this society is at the lowest point of moral deprivity and we must realize and accept that, but we wont.

They also are Allah’s creation and we should treat them with love and respect.

The incidence of the third gender or transgender is not known in Pakistan. An estimate of transgender persons in India is around 1:400. Pakistan being in the same ethno-geographical class may have parallel results. The discriminatory attitude is even shown in statistical divisions as reported in population reports, 51% females and 49% males. As if the transgender persons do not exist. According to Madeline H Wyndzen, PhD, a transgendered professor of psychology, “there is similarity in expressed insensitivity to this issue both in psychopathology and the lay man’s attitude. It comes in the form of value judgments as the assumption that transgenderism is a problem and in a “paternal” way of assuming they know what’s best for us.” In Pakistan the existence of transgendered people has only very recently been acknowledged by the Supreme Court when the chief justice ordered identity cards and medical and other facilities for them. The recent article in The Express Tribune about a survey where 55 per cent people approved acknowledgement of facilities and rights to transgender persons, and 60 per cent did not want to be friends with the same, or be in an office or study place with them shows the general insensitivity to this issue. This attitude may be due to ‘fear of the unknown’ factor as is evident in children being scared of people different from themselves, or due to experience with transgender persons who are at a lower social and economic ladder. In a society where the entire focus is on male/female segregation and laws based on the “biological” sex differentiation, the existence of “Transgender persons” is just an anomaly to be brushed under the carpet. The social issues of gender identity, their human rights, are very farfetched ideas according to certain “religious” representatives, not to be debated or discussed intellectually as they are imported from foreign countries. However, the concept of “doing justice “in Islam is very strong. According to the Quran, an Islamic way of life does not exist without the values of egalitarianism being supported, cherished and nurtured in a society where Muslims live. The issues here have become obvious. Are societies where a majority of Muslims live more egalitarian or where there are minority Muslims living but the values are based on liberty, freedom and human rights more egalitarian? As most Muslim laws address the male/female issues, the modern day Muslims seem to interpret all issues about gender based on the biological sex differences. The Pakistani society needs to address the transgender issue on the basis of egalitarianism if they also want to stick to Quranic injunctions. What is transgender? There are many identities and definitions but some common issues are discussed. The Gender Identity Disorder (GID) has been classified as a DSM IV, mental disorder. This is being debated again whether it is a mental disorder or not. This group includes transvestites, cross dressers, transvestites and generally people born with a particular sex, identifying themselves as another sex. A famous chief minister of Sindh in a previous government was a cross dresser, though he kept it to his chief minister house, at night time only. In our culture such practices are accepted quietly but open discussion is taboo to show that “all is well” as prescribed by the law. In the USA there is heated debate on being “gender different” as a “trans right”. People who advocate all rights for transgender persons strongly advocate “inclusion of being gender different as the right of all persons”. People born with no male sexual genitalia but having a male voice and facial hair are also identified as transgender. Such persons are known as “Hijras” in our society but now have come to include all GID persons. Violence against transgender There is a concerted effort in the world to bring down the prejudices and violence statistics against Transgender persons as it is seen that the highest rate of death by violent murder in the US and South America, even by the police, is against transgender persons. One in 12 transgender women are murdered in the USA. Sixty per cent of all transgender persons in the USA have been subjected to violent hate crimes due to bigotry and intolerance. Amnesty International is gravely concerned about police brutality against transgender persons in the USA.  I have quoted these examples for Pakistani legislators and policy makers to understand the provisions of laws governing rights to transgender persons removing intolerance and bigotry. Only through legislation ending discrimination against any person based on sex will ensure access of transgender persons to basic right to health, education, employment, civil liberties. In Pakistan the following issues need urgent attention of both the government and philanthropists: Health: Due to extreme poverty and lack of access to education and employment, many in this group are earning a living through sex and diseases like HIV AIDS, STDs, and Tuberculosis are rampant in the community. Use of drugs and non-use of condoms further adds to high spread and prevalence. All sources of such programs for detection, diagnosis and treatment should be streamlined and a health card based on ID card should be issued on priority basis. This scheme should be implemented on an urgent basis. The sensitization of health and administrative personnel should be done as a priority. Education: A primary education program for children and an adult literacy program should be developed and transgender persons should be allowed to take admission in all educational institutions. This should be made compulsory by legislation. Special vocational courses and education should be provided to all transgender persons irrespective of their previous profession or social status. It has been seen that the show biz community and the make-up community has some great artists from this group. Employment opportunities: These will open for transgender persons as their education and vocational training improves.  Gradually the socio-economic status and profile will change and in some 20 years a major perception change will occur. Sensitization to transgender issues and compassionate handling should be advocated by everyone in the society. That Pakistan is quite tolerant of transgender persons is evident from the fact that the program “Begum Nawazish Ali” on TV is enjoyed by many and conservative people like Naimatullah Khan and others of the Jamat-e-Islami have graced the guest list. It is high time that we tackle this issue on a more scientific basis and accept transgender persons in educational institutions and provide health services and good employment opportunities to bring them into the mainstream of our socio-economic life.

History - or Pakistan Studies - has taught us many things; most of which we know because it was stuffed down our throats. While retaining only the fourth of the founding father's fourteen points is no profound achievement, it is a rejoinder that the mainstream education system still thrives on rote. And for that, it deservedly gets thrashed. Alas, not all the thrashing handed out in this land of the pure tends to be deserved. Corporal punishment is still a murky subject; not even considering gas stoves that continue to blow up - fatally - in the faces of unsuspecting housewives while women's & human rights' activists' clamor that 90 per cent of women in the country experience some form of domestic abuse. This is in spite of us having had a woman head of state. The fact remains: outside and even in urban centers, women can be silenced & children locked up. Or vice versa. When such a big chunk of the population can be stripped of their rights, what happens to those who are further down on this patriarchal, (often)-religiously-sanctified, (mainly)-chauvinistic ladder of perception? The bottomless pit The worst off among these groups of the disenfranchised are people without a gender; fellow beings whom we refer to as 'hijras' in everyday speech. We shudder when they approach, cringe when they touch and breathe a sigh of relief when they walk away. Obviously, a small minority, which is not necessarily the civil minority, is sensitive to their plight. But that rarely translates into little more than loose change. And why should it? There are greater evils in the world for us to contend with like Uncle Sam and Israel. But if charity has to begin at home, why isn’t it the same in the case of declarations of universal concern? So far, the declarations have been sporadic: CJ’s order to issue the transgender community identity cards and employment opportunities in government. But even the CNICs have been a compromise as the usually efficient NADRA has failed to add a third gender to their list of options. Their default sex is male. The bigger problem, however, has not been declarations but actions. Mostly, the transgendered community, that is economically, educationally, socially and politically marginalized, faces challenges in maintaining any form of systematic pressure on the system to highlight their plights. With their limited organizational and planning abilities, their efforts lose steam before it has had any mark on our collectively flippant attention spans. One man, though, has a longer attention span than our everyday black-coat. Muhammad Aslam Khaki, a barrister from Islamabad, filed the petition in the Supreme Court against the discriminations faced by the transgendered community in nearly all walks of life. But he is just one man. Bindiya Shining Bindya is one of the main spokespersons for her community. She runs an NGO – Gender Interactive Alliance (GIA) – that does welfare work for her people. However, she has no established source of funding, she doesn’t have an office, and she can’t afford to hire staff and has to bear the administrative costs herself. Whatever welfare work she has been able to do, it has been due to philanthropic interventions. But this is only the tip of the iceberg. Not only does GIA lack the wherewithal to perform any valuable function for the community, it also often ends up at the wrong end of the state’s law-enforcement machinery and administrative apparatus. (Like the rest of us.) Case in point: The Khwaja Sira community likes to have fortnightly congregations at community halls to sing, dance and frolic in the name of celebrating birthdays. Their location of choice tends to be the hall at the Liaquat National Library. But their last get-together or GT – if you permit – went sour as they were first fleeced by the administrators who took money for holding the event without permitting them legally to host the event. If only that was the end of their problems, for the New Town Police showed up soon after and they, too, demanded money. And we all know how it ends when you don’t give the police what they want. According to Bindya, she and her fellow community members spent the half the night in prison haggling, fighting and pleading. They ended the night poorer and without having the GT. And this isn’t an odd instance but a usual occurrence. Bindya says she is often woken up in the middle of the night to go and rescue a Khwaja Sira who is being held up in a police station. An Analogy As if often quipped about Pakistan, the country has hit rock bottom and the only way now is up. The same could be said about the khwaja sira community. However, the last few years has made most of us re-question the ‘rock bottom’ theory. It has also given rise to a sentiment that there has been enough bickering and railing against the system, the politicians, army, police et al. and now, citizens (not necessarily the civil minority) need to step up their game. It doesn’t even require universal declarations condemning Israeli or American outrage. Just small steps like hiring khwaja siras as domestic help, maids, cooks etc. Provide them with an alternative source of revenue. Rather than treating them disdainfully and dismissively, there needs to be a concentrated effort to integrate them into society. Maybe the over-enthusiastic, over-hyped, gigantic youth chunk of the population pie can take the lead. Help GIA and similar welfare organisations become better equipped and more organized. And we don’t have to wait for the day Pakistan emerges out of third-world wilderness for such NGOs to get office space.

I talk about AIDS, sex and sexuality. Don’t look at me that way. I, too, belong to a religious conservative family. No, I am not a non-believer. No, I do not have AIDS. Yes, I am a woman. Yes, I have morals. This issue has been taboo, cursed and frowned upon. It has been buried so deep, that it is almost impossible to even think about talking of. But I do. I conduct and facilitate workshops on  HIV/AIDS awareness. --------------- This is the story of two people I met a couple of weeks ago. They both liked boys. They were both shy, and could not speak at all the first day of our acquaintance. They were very self-conscious, and worried about the people who were eyeing them. They had a voice, but I could hardly hear them at all. I felt like reaching out to them, simply to see if they could hear me? They were only happy at home. Outside, nobody cared, yet everybody cared. Here, nobody saw their name, yet everybody saw their gender (or what wasn't their gender). No one wanted to be friends with them, nobody sat with them. At dinner my colleague and I dragged our chairs to their table and tried to make them feel wanted. Others joined in. The meal was lovely. They had finally made some friends. The workshop progressed at an accelerated speed the next day. Questions were asked, issues were discussed, groups were formed, activities were conducted – still no word from them. It was only later in the evening that I found out they did not understand the terms I had been using for reproductive health systems and the diseases in the bilingual language I had been speaking eloquently, assuming that everyone would understand. One thing that I noticed though, was that they kept talking among themselves. One of them apparently had studied in an English medium school before going to the Transgender Academy in Okara. He knew his friend couldn’t understand me, so he was trying to explain to his friend what “Madam” meant every time she would use a foreign phrase. I made the members stand in a line. All 25 of them. Belonging to different occupations, social status and each having a different opinion. Then, I started asking questions. The ones who would agree with me would move towards the right, the ones who would disagree with me would step towards the left side of the line.

“I would be okay with discussing my sexual problems with a friend.”

“I will be okay with having a friend who is gay.”

“I will be alright with inviting a transgender to my house for dinner.”

In 2003, Brazil brought the case for homosexual rights on the United Nations table, only to be derailed at the last minute by Muslim and African countries. Instead, amendments were introduced and approved for the removal of any reference to discrimination based on sexual orientation. My country, Pakistan, was the captain of Team Homophobe. It distributed a memo to the member states declaring that the approval of the recommendation would be:

"A direct insult to 1.2 billion Muslims around the world."

It appears to be the season for new voter demographics. With perhaps the largest, long-dormant voting segment - the Pakistani youth – finally energised to cast their ballots in the upcoming elections, it is heartening to see that a much smaller and traditionally ostracised segment of the population will also be voting next year. The latest decision, on the part of the Supreme Court, to register transgenders as voters could not have come at a better time. Tentative estimates put the ‘third gender’ population in Pakistan between 80,000 and 300,000 people, and SC Chief Justice, Iftikhar Mohammad Chaudhery, has ordered that transgenders be enrolled as official voters. Aside from finally receiving the right to vote, the registration process will also put pressure on NADRA to issue computerised national identity cards to eunuchs so that we can finally make an accurate estimate regarding the size of this demographic. This community has historically been neglected, and has largely been banished to certain localities in different cities. They have woefully limited job opportunities and life choices available to them.

“All I know about eunuchs is that they beg on the streets, dance at weddings and work in the sex industry,” says a Lahore Cantt resident Amina Virq. “It’s rather tragic that people don’t know we exist beyond the scope of a ‘public nuisance’. I have been working as a housekeeper for the same family since I was a teenager and now I am 52. We are also just people,” says Shabnam, a hijra (eunuch), who works near RA Bazaar.

We are most likely to get angry and excited in our opposition to some idea when we ourselves are not quite certain of our own position, and are inwardly tempted to take the other side.

Recently, some of my friends and I made a short documentary on transgenders to participate in a documentary competition held at my university. To collect the required information, we visited their homes and were shocked at what we discovered. Passing through the narrow alleys, I was disturbed to see open drains and human waste all around. After having spoken to Sahiba, Sapna, and a few other transgenders, I was able to form a clearer picture about this particular gender and the appalling exploitation of their rights. Sahiba, the president of the transgender society in Bahawalpur, started the conversation;

“God created us, as He created all. We are born of a father and a mother just like everyone else, yet we are different. Our families may be ashamed of us but we know He loves us and that is why we don’t feel disgusted with ourselves. They don’t call us normal but we feel more normal than normal people because we don’t let anything bring us down. What doesn’t kill us just makes us stronger.”

“I have faded memories of my mother hiding me in her arms when my father would beat me for wearing my sister’s make-up and dressing up like her. I don’t have that warm, safe haven to hide me from this cruel world anymore. Sometimes I wish I could lie down in her loving embrace and just die.”

“We dance for the happiness of people. We never dance at funerals. We are not involved in terrorism, neither do we kill people. We just dance and that’s not a crime.”

“There are some transgenders who have long beards, they wear male clothes and are respected by society, but when they meet us they say ‘Aur, saheli, tera kiya haal hai?’ (How are you, girl-friend?) They talk to us like they belong here.”

“We feel like females inside. We are attracted to men. In our community, it is considered immoral to touch another transgender. Some men spend time with us, claim to love us, but to save face, they never introduce us to their family. One day, as expected, these men leave us on the same patent note we have heard all our lives – that we are haraam.”

“Some of us want to start a business, open a salon or a boutique, or work in show business. We are perfect for these jobs because we’re very hardworking.” said Sapna, “I, for one, want to study. But the fact is that most of us take our dreams to our graves with us.”

“A normal person loses breath after dancing for an hour; we dance barefoot on wet floors for hours.”

“When someone from our community dies, maulvi sahibaan refuse to offer our namaaz-e-janaza because they think its haraam!” says Sahiba.

“The Chief Justice allotted us the right to self -identification. Before that, we were non-existent for this so called humanistic society. Most of us still don’t have IDs. It’s like red tape for us.”

“When a druggie, a thief, or a rapist is accepted as part of his family and the society, why can’t people accept us? You accept your brother if he climbs out of a filthy drain, but you never accept us. Are we that bad? We may have the wrong body but our soul comes as pure as any other of God’s beloved creations. You can’t give us love, but what about some respect?”

Is it possible, I wonder, to initiate a conversation about transgender persons running in the upcoming elections without provoking laughter and shaking one's head in disapproval? What is it about transgender people that we seem to find so funny? Are they not humans? Do they not have rights? Bindiya Rana and Sanam Fakir, both members of the transgender community, have recently announced their decision to try for seats in the provincial assembly from separate regions. It's deplorable that the media, for the most part, has been treating this news as a light-hearted, election sideshow -- a 'fun fact', if you will -- to offer some relief from the more serious and pressing aspects of the election. This is entirely unsurprising, recognising that the nation is unaccustomed to seeing transgenders performing tasks that are so 'out of place'. There are countless among us for whom watching a transgender person run for elections is like, and I say this with deep regret, watching a cat on the Internet wearing people clothes. This is new, uncharted territory in Pakistani politics, and we're all witnesses to a pivotal moment in history. What makes this so important, one may ask? When was the last time you went to a fast food joint and had a transgender employee ask if you if wish to up-size your meal? Ever been to the bank and discussed your account status with a man in a lady's dress? Of the 100 transgender people you've met, 96 of them are likely to have been either begging on the street, or dancing to the latest Bollywood item song. This is not because of their unbound admiration for such activities, but due to the lack of opportunities to serve their country in more meaningful ways. Evidently, that's about to change. The Supreme Court ruling in 2011, allowing transgenders to be included in the voters' list, is a landmark victory for the community. This is despite the fact that many of them have faced tremendous difficulties attaining their national ID cards. It's still too early to lose our sense of optimism, acknowledging that these problems are normal during such transitions. For a group known for little else besides singing, dancing and telling sassy jokes, transgenders have begun to be regarded as nothing more than mere entertainers. Well, ladies and gentleman, this is not a show. The transgender community is not running in this election because they see this as an amusing stunt. They are contesting because they feel they can make a difference in the way the government is run, and in turn address the specific socio-political problems faced by their own community. These are serious, well-motivated participants. Our endorsement or opposition of their candidacy should be based on an honest assessment of their political skills, ability to serve the public faithfully, and overall competency. The fact that they belong to the transgender community is no indicator of any of these traits, therefore is neither a qualifier nor a disqualifier. It can easily be imagined that for many in the transgender community, this is not a fight for seats in the provincial assembly. It's a tooth-and-nail battle to establish their image as regular citizens, and not a satellite society hanging outside the Pakistani mainstream. Read more by Faraz here, or follow him on Twitter @FarazTalat

Azaan’s over. Everyone has gone back to their rooms. The street’s a mess. I smile as a jalebi floats in a puddle nearby. People rarely treat food with respect anymore. I take out a cigarette and begin to light it. Bloody cigarettes; they’ve started costing me more than my clients pay me to begin with! One of the girls, Razia, walks out the curtain-door and sits next to me. My lighter isn’t working again! Damn it! God bless Razia for handing me hers. We both stretch our legs over the stairs, lean back and take long drawls of our cigarettes. We barely ever talk. We just bond over the sunrise, a good smoke and some time off from work. I look at my feet; chipped nail paint. I’ll probably scrape this off. I need to save up for a new paranda. Damn my life to hell! Ramazan really slows down the business. When was the last time I observed a fast? Was it five years ago? Or maybe ten? This habit of smoking has really affected my memory. I scrape some plaque off my teeth and scrub my fingers against a brick nearby. Razia is speaking. “I think we need a new sink.” I nod. “Baji, how long have you been here?” “Long enough.” “Does it get better?” “It would; if they made good cigarettes” She laughs. “Baji, how did you come here?” I love this story. It’s the kind of story I’ve told everyone. My friends can empathise with it; my employers acknowledge it; my housemates understand it; my juniors worship me for it, and my peers respect me because of it. “I’m tired. We’ll talk another day.” “Baji, I’ll braid your hair.” I’m sold to that notion. I love being pampered. Without another thought, I undo my hair fling my locks in her face and begin to talk. “I came here when I was five. My Amma dropped me off one day. We lived right there, outside Lahore, somewhere near the river. I think Islamabad. I was very posh, you know. No, no, I think it was Karachi. I don’t quite recall. Sigh! Let it go. Amma told me I was with new siblings. I was five, but I adjusted. The Baji before me was kind. She told me I was a beauty! Believe me, larki! I was fair as the moon! The wretched Lahore sun has burnt my beautiful face! Anyhow, you see my hair? They were like a fairy’s - so long and light! And my dance! Wah wah! People loved it. Do you know? A minister came to me once! He loved my dance so much that he sent pocket money for a year! That is how your Baji bought her home.” I lovingly look at my dilapidated house. I just recently had it painted yellow and blue on the outside. What’s Lahore without a bit more color? “Anyway, you see my hands? They were as supple as a baby’s bottom! Days and days of hard work ruined them. But they are still very beautiful, you see. I moisturise them with bleaching creams every day. I’ve worked hard, larki. I’ve seen people you haven’t; I’ve seen Lahore like you never will.” Razia gazes down and draws circles in the mud. “Baji, ever since I came here, I’ve always respected you.” “Of course, you have!” “I want to be like you one day.” “Your hair isn’t as nice. Your hands aren’t as soft and your features aren’t as smooth as mine.” “Baji, am I beautiful?” “Obviously, but not as beautiful as me!” “I think I need a walk.” “Bring me some gutka.” With Razia gone, I begin to think. My whole life, I’ve been flawless. I haven’t been accepted. I haven’t even been told I’m pretty. I’ve been ridiculed, I’ve been shamed. People have laughed at my dances; they’ve laughed at my way of life. Yet, I know, I am beautiful. I’m beautiful because I respect myself. I have the sort of dignity you wouldn’t believe. I can shut you up and you’d laugh. But you’d know; you’d know better than to mess with Baji again. A couple of young boys walk by. They look at me, whisper something and snigger. I know what they’re thinking, all too well. I throw a slipper at them and shout. "Arey o launday! Don’t call me a khusra! I’m a Khawaja Sarraah."

Aab Tak, a Pakistani television station started its transmission earlier this year with a strong statement,

‘Ladies, Gentlemen and She-males’

“Are you gay or transgender?”

“Why don’t these people become targets of bombs?”

“How can a ‘crazy’ know that he is ‘crazy’ and even know his doctor? This is enough to prove that you are lying.”

As I scanned through the multitude of headlines splashed across some of Pakistan’s e-papers on January 30, 2014 one headline caught my eye. The Sindh government has employed three transgender persons as full-time employees. The only thing that disappointed me was the fact that this issue was not carried across every e-paper and it was limited to only a handful of news reporting websites in Pakistan. The term ‘transgender’ encompasses a wide array of definitions. To put it in the simplest of terms, it is when the state of one’s gender identity does not match one’s assigned gender. This includes a person whose sexual identity does not fall under the notions of male or female as well as people who were assigned a sex at birth based on their genitals but feel that it is an untrue description of how they see themselves. The persecution of the transgender population in Pakistan has gone on for a while, although in a different way compared to the persecution of other minorities in the country. While most ethnic and religious minorities in the country are subject to physical violence, the transgender population in Pakistan, like in other parts of South Asia, is more prone to ridicule and harassment. Having said that, they are accepted in our society on certain occasions such as dancing at weddings. They are even invited to certain events such as the birth of child due to the superstitious nature of our society. People give alms to them, afraid that a transgender person has the ability to inflict bad luck upon a person. More commonly, they can be seen at traffic signals and in markets asking people for alms, which in addition to the indifferent shrug can also result in wisecracks and ridicule from the people they approach. One of the primary reasons our transgender population has always been treated as outcasts, despite their acceptance at certain social events, was our government’s refusal to accept them as part of society. As many would know, our Computerised National Identity Cards (CNIC) only had two options for gender – male and female. This changed in 2009 when in a truly historic move, the Supreme Court of Pakistan granted civil rights to our transgender population which meant that not only would our CNICs carry a third gender option, they would also be able to vote and participate in elections. Four years later, in a brilliant move propagated yet again by the Pakistan People’s Party (PPP), the Sindh government has given employment to three transgender persons. Although this may appear to be an insignificant move to those who are more worried about the Bilawal House wall, the terror of Malala’s book or the Youth Loan Program, everyone else will applaud it. This signifies a small drop in the ever-expanding ocean of breaking free from the shackles of social stigmas in Pakistan. And one can only hope that something like this only becomes stronger with time. The issues faced by our transgender population are part of the bigger lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender (LGBT) rights issue but this is a start. While there is no formal campaign from the LGBT community for civil rights, it would be foolish to turn a blind eye to their presence in our society. According to some reports, there are around 500,000 transgender persons in Pakistan. Add the lesbian, gay and bi-sexual population to it and the number would swell further. While this may appear to be a small number, you cannot go through a complete overhaul of social acceptance in such a short space of time. It needs to be done step-by-step and the first steps taken by the Sindh government are very encouraging. After all, every person is entitled to his or her sexual or gender identity. The 2009 ruling by the Supreme Court and the recent move by the Sindh Government are welcome steps to move towards a society where harassment and discrimination based on strictly personal matters is reduced. This is a brilliant precedent set, however, there will always be that group of people – mostly with anti-PPP sentiments – that claims that these moves are mere gimmicks employed to take away attention from other issues. What that group will always forget is that a country choking on social suffocation needs these moves. These aren’t gimmicks. These are much needed steps to influx some fresh oxygen into a society polluted with bigotry. Bravo Sindh government, another brilliant move, another step in the right direction!

Following the uproar caused by the controversial episode of Abb Tak’s show, Khufia, where the host, Uzma Tahir, forced entry into the home of a transvestite couple and tried to film their life, many viewers decided to display their outrage over various platforms: some expressed their anger over social media with the help of Facebook and Twitter; others wrote blogs that were published online on The Express Tribune’s blog page. However, there were some that took a different route: many viewers decided to directly appeal to the Pakistan Electronic Media Regulatory Authority (PEMRA). If one visits the official website of Pemra, there is a section under the tab ‘Complaints Call Centre’ labelled ‘View Complaints’. Upon clicking it, the website will direct the viewer to a particular page. This page will then show a list of channels and the number of complaints against them. [caption id="" align="alignnone" width="508"] Photo: Screenshot from Pemra's website[/caption] There are 27 complaints against Abb Tak on Pemra’s website, most of them expressing outrage towards the episode in question. Following are a few of the complaints:

Complaint number 33387: “The show Khufia aired on December 15, 2013, was an infringement on privacy and was against basic human rights. Such shows in which the host harasses individuals, which have nothing to do with the public good, should not be allowed. Human rights and personal freedom should be protected by the state.”  Complaint number 33351: “I am disgusted by Abb Tak and their show which violated the basic human rights of people by barging into their homes and invading their privacy. The channel has also endangered the lives of innocent people and should be severely warned from such behaviour in the future. The channel should be heavily fined for its behaviour.”

“I’m going for a sleepover at Salman’s house.”

“Sleepover, ammi.”

“Jee, everyone is getting together right now, please, midterms just ended today.”

“Nothing, I want nothing. What are you doing here at this time?”

“Can I sit down?”

“No, I know what you are thinking, I am not drunk. I just want to sit here and talk.”

“I know. Talk about anything. I have nowhere to go tonight.”

“What is it that makes you continue living?” he asked her, and the bluntness of the question failed to appear in front of him.

“Because people despise you, children taunt you, women are repelled by you, and some men try to touch you to satisfy their unfulfilled desires.”

“I can predict it from how society treats you.”

“Falsafe, sacchai?”

“Just like that?”

“Are you?”

“That’s tragic.”

“Well, your ID cards are now being made.”

“So, are all of you born this way?”

“Nah, the world is alright, only the people are incredibly strange.”

“I have always been told the opposite.”

“I am going to go; maybe someday we could meet again here, at the same time.”

“I have you for that. Why do you bother with these desperate people anyway?”

“What do you mean?” Maida asked, surprised to see Sughra in a philosophical mood.

“What’s the matter? You’re talking sense today.”

It is prime time bulletin on Lotus News, a satellite news channel in southern Indian town, Coimbatore. Dressed in a dark brown silk sari, 31-year-old Padmini Prakash is all set to read out the day’s headlines. In matching brown lipstick, vermilion in the parting of her hairline and a bunch of white jasmine tucked in her black curls, Padmini sports a professional charm. Her Tamil pronunciation is clear. Her intonation is perfectly timed. In less than two months, Padmini has become one of the most popular news anchors of the television channel.   But it wasn’t an easy journey for this first ever transgender television news anchor of India.

 “I never wanted to create any history. All I wanted was social recognition and a dignified life. I am happy that I have got it now,” a confident Padmini says.

Ghaffar was at a restaurant with friends. The food had been devoured, and everyone was awaiting their cars. Somehow he casually looked at his feet and saw a torn piece of paper floating in a puddle some feet away. He looked around, and ensuring no one was looking, he pocketed it carefully. Once he was back home, he began to read it. It was written with a black fountain pen, the writing was cursive, and from far it looked like one large sentence. It read:

“Often we constantly sketch dreams in the loopholes of our world. We fit them in, often enlarging the holes to wedge our dreams perfectly, neatly, precisely. But we forget that there are too many spaces in this reality, too many dreams to be sown, infinite abysses that stare inside you. So, soon we give up, because we are tired of dreaming and seeing them manifest only in the silence of the nights. What remains at dusk is an individual who picks up the patched and bruised world to find some temporary cure before he could sleep again, dream again. But, it’s only when Death knocks that we drop the world from our shoulders and attempt to disappear inside one of the edges of our dreams”.

“Would you not want to talk in eternal words? Would you not want to discuss ideas never discussed before, never seen in light before? There are these ideas, unbelievable ideas. Unimaginable. Ideas that once enter inside you, race to every part of your body, refreshing it from its decades of buried past, burning petty concerns of the future, and rejuvenating each cell inside the body, so that each single individual part of you transforms and transforms until transformation is the only cycle it can cycle upon. And the pens you use to pen these ideas would dry up writing them, ideas which are so fresh, and larger than this entire universe, because what is the universe but an established idea inside us? And the pen would break trying to capture the depth of the abyss that the ideas contain, and the solidity that is within it. The pen will stop when it pauses to reflect on the bizarre thoughts that it never considered, never could consider. And the mind will burst, like a balloon with too much air, it will burst because of too many ideas, too many potential to actions, too many chances of reform, and too many staircases ahead of humanity. But when the mind will explode, the individual will cease to be, but the ideas will scatter into different bodies, and so the individuals with small bits of ideas will strive to find others who can wedge inside the missing part of their idea. But when, the whole picture will complete inside a single mind, it will burst again, and the cycle will continue”.

“Whose whisper?”

“Why do you bring to life every thought, father?”

“Yes… but no one else talks this way, it is so hard to understand sometimes.”

“But it is raining!”

“Yes.”

“Father, you are doing it again.”

“Okay.”

“Yes.”

“Okay, I think I am following.”

“What conditions?”

“But father what are these conditions?”

“But I thought every man is different.”

“But he is also the same?”

“I don’t understand.”

“You’re confusing me further. So that means happiness is always side by side with sadness?”

“But if they were always so close, then would it not be easy to jump from one to the other? Why then would people ever be sad?”

“So, why are people not always happy then?”

“What, father? I don’t understand. How can happiness ever become boring? Is it not the goal of all of us?”

“No, I’m not chasing you. Is there some place we can sit?”

“No problem, we’ll walk.”

“I don’t care, let’s just walk.”

“What the hell is wrong with people? Why can’t they let others be? You are not some animal at a f**king zoo that people can look at you.”

“I’m not attracted to you; I just want to know how you live and how you think.”

“Aren’t we all lab experiments? Some force from outside influences us and we react and try to influence the force. And so, from our reactions, we make rules about how the other animals along us should live and survive, and we keep on running here and there, confined in a lab, mistaking it to be our whole existence...”

“From my father, I think.”

“I don’t know; he is no longer with us.”

“How can you possibly know that?”

It is the year 2014 and much has changed in the world. Technology has made monumental strides towards advancement – today we can communicate with another person sitting across the globe with the mere touch of a button or the swipe of a finger. Medical and public health initiatives have worked synergistically to eliminate some of the most virulent diseases plaguing the human race, such as the polio virus in India. One can confidently state that “everything is subject to change” with respect to all arenas governing our lives. But despite these notable achievements, it is disconcerting to observe that our attitudes, as South Asians, towards gender discourse remain deeply entrenched in antiquity. Many of the laws in India place men and women into rigid gender roles and, thus, limit gender expression.

“Kya ladkiyon ki tarah sharma rahe ho!” (Why are you shying away like a girl!)

“During one of the festivals, all the boys were sitting together and had their bottle with them. They tried to force me to drink but I refused. So all the boys began teasing me by saying you are a ‘gud’ (feminine boy). This put me off. I drank four glasses of raw liquor. It was so strong that I was unconscious for days.”

“May you be the mother of a hundred sons.” 

“Basically, we (women) are made for them (men). We are made to serve them. We die serving them and there is nothing in between.”

“Throughout India, social norms and practices are mostly governed by patriarchal ideologies that define the roles of men and women. Men are confined to it, and it’s reflected in their attitudes and behaviours.”

Aashi, a transgender who is Faiq by day and Aashi at night, says,

“Living a discrete life is not everyone’s cup of tea.”

“I was raised in a conservative family of five in Nazimabad. My father was a government employee and was ashamed of my existence. Since childhood, I had this natural inclination towards floral prints, dolls, jewellery and the likes, and used to imitate famous female celebrities. My family, which included my parents, a younger sister and brother, had initially ignored this tendency in me and considered it as part of growing up. However, it was after the age of 16 that they realised that something was wrong which was now obvious through my accent, the way I walked, my gestures and some unusual biological changes that had started to occur. This created panic in the family and the very next day, I was standing in front of a doctor who after examining me thoroughly, took my parents to a private room nearby and whatever discussion took place was never revealed to me. All that I remember was that my mother came out with tears in her eyes and my father with a frown on his face, who grabbed my hand and without saying a single word, drove us back home. Everyone in the family was told to keep quiet about it, and I was told to wear baggy clothes and avoid any kind of socialising at school. I was lucky I was allowed to continue my studies, which I did and managed to graduate in psychology from a college in Karachi and later on a certification in hotel management. By that time, I had grown up into an adult with some obvious biological changes and that’s when my life took a U-turn.”

“I was asked to leave my home. The same home where I was born in, grew up, played with my siblings, spent some of the best years of my life, and here I was being asked to leave this abode just because I was becoming an embarrassment to the family. I did not even try to reason with my parents because this was a reality that I had to live with and this was just another phase of my life where I had to be strong and ready to take the challenge head on. With a heavy heart, I left my home and my family and rented a small apartment in a commercial area of Defence. For the initial six months, my father supported me financially and occasionally visited me to make sure that I was doing okay. Each time he visited me, I greeted him with a smile on my face and never displayed any kind of anger or pain that was literally eating me up from inside. After retirement, his income trimmed down to a pension and that was when I stepped out in search for a job. After a month long search, I ended up securing a position at the commissioner’s office in the administration department. Initially, there was plenty of resistance by the staff but then I made an effort to win them over with my no-nonsense attitude and commitment towards my work. There are plenty of transgenders who are working at homes as domestic help, working for the government availing the two per cent job quota and providing services in the fashion industry.”

“I met this man named Wajid Sheikh who visited as a customer but slipped his business card to me and asked me to call him for he had an excellent proposition for me. Willingly or unwillingly, I did place that call and took his offer. I was to first get in touch with a similar group of transgenders through Mr Wajid and get briefed up on some part time work that they were all involved in. I met Ms Komal, the manager of the discrete community that Mr Wajid was running, and was introduced to a totally new world where I was to use my ‘special features’ and my sexual orientation to satisfy a certain segment of the society which was running into hundreds if not thousands. I was to go with a pseudonym ‘Aashi’ and establish a network of clients through social media and word of mouth. I became a dancer who used to entertain men at different gatherings and parties. This was initially hard on me for I had belonged to a conservative family background but the pay was really handsome and I gave in. There was no looking back and I quickly reached great heights in this entertainment segment. I now am Faiq by day and Aashi by night. My father and brother have completely broken all ties with me for which I can’t blame them. However, it’s my mother who often calls me to inquire about my health and to see if I’m doing fine. I chose this path myself and will face the consequences accordingly. I still miss my home though and I know for a fact that from what I have become, they will never accept me back so why fret about it. Financially, I’m independent and will even be willing to help them out if they ever need my help.”

“Had the government and the civil society worked towards incorporating us into this society with equal opportunities for people from our community, I wouldn’t have been selling myself to make both ends meet and live a discrete life. I have to think a thousand times before visiting a doctor during illness and in public places, mothers distance their young ones from us, isolating us further and making a mockery out of our orientation. I have no other way but to use my skills to survive in this jungle of intolerance and narrow mindedness.”

I was shocked when I read the recent news story about a Muslim family living in Germany who wanted to arrange the marriage of their 18-year-old homosexual son against his will with a Lebanese girl. The son told the media that his family threatened to slit his throat and burn him alive if he did not change his sexual orientation. Eventually, the court intervened and saved the young man from the brutal punishment from his family. This news reminded me of an acquaintance, Azam*, who runs a delicatessen in New York. He told his mother that he was gay when they were visiting Pakistan to find a bride for him. The news left the family heartbroken and angry. To teach him a lesson, the family confiscated his passport so that he could not go back to the US. They physically, verbally and emotionally abused him for bringing shame on the family and vowed more serious sexual abuse in the event he did not change his sexual orientation. It took him months, through the help of the embassy, to get his passport back and travel to the US and live his life as he wanted to. One of my teenage patients, whose parents immigrated from the Indian Punjab, is currently struggling to come out to her family as a homosexual. She is afraid that her family, based on cultural and social traditions, will reject her. She is going through therapy to accept her sexual orientation as well as trying to keep a healthy relationship with her family. This fine balance is hard to negotiate and is causing personal conflicts, affecting her academic performance in school as well. In the 2010 US National Survey of Sexual Health and Behaviour, seven per cent of women and eight per cent of men identified themselves as gay, lesbian or bisexual. There is no such survey in Pakistan but one can assume that the same or a lesser percentage of the Pakistani population belongs to the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) community. Pakistan is a conservative and patriarchal society where members of the LGBTQ community must live secret and self-confined lives to avoid discrimination, stigma and abuse. Under the weight of homophobia, heteronormativity and genderism, they are forced to adopt a lifestyle according to society’s assigned gender roles and expectations. Almost a year ago, in Lahore, a man confessed to the brutal murder of three gay men he met online after having sex with them. He took the self-assigned role of a moral policeman and claimed he wanted to teach the victims a lesson. His morality, if it existed, did not stop him from being involved in sexual acts with his victims. It raises the thought in his case that a deeply-closeted homosexual can often have violent impulses towards others because of his psychological and social conflicts. There is no conclusive evidence to describe what causes homosexuality but many studies have shown that it is a product of biological and environmental factors; not a lifestyle choice. And it should be pointed out that there is no evidence that links childhood sexual molestation with being a homosexual later in life. According to the American Psychological Association, homosexuality is not a mental illness and homosexual men are not more likely to sexually abuse children than heterosexual men are. The Child Molestation Research and Prevention Institute reports that the majority of child molesters are men married to women and therefore are not gay people. Reparative or conversion therapy to change sexual orientation has no scientific evidence to prove its effectiveness. But it has led to higher rates of depression, suicide and alcohol and drug abuse in men who have been subjected to it. Last year, Pakistan casted a “no” vote in the United Nations Human Rights Council when a resolution was presented to stop violence and discrimination against individuals because of their sexual orientation and gender identity. It is the duty of the state to protect its citizens regardless of race, gender, colour and sexual orientation, and in this case, Pakistan failed. It is time to educate parents and families that being gay, lesbian, bisexual or a transgender is a form of normal human behaviour and marrying their LGBTQ children in a traditional way is not a way to cure them. People do not adopt these behaviours from others. Members of the LGBTQ population are subject to more bullying and harassment in the society than others. Parents and family members should provide support and comfort to their children and accept them for what they are. *The name has been changed to protect the identity.

Most concerned Indian parents worry about their child’s happiness and would like to see her/him live a happy and fulfilled life, and being married is traditionally considered part of that equation of fulfilment. The search begins to find the correct partner, by word of mouth and other avenues. One method includes placing a newspaper matrimonial advertisement in a local or national newspaper to draw upon the eyes of many potential suitors and their families for marriage. Once the ad is placed, the phones begin to ring and emails are exchanged, all leading to a potential match. Everybody is happy! Yay! However, for one such person, 36-year-old Harish Iyer, a Mumbai-based LGBT activist, this simple act became a complex one. Iyer’s mother, Padma Iyer, became growingly concerned that her son would not be able to find a spouse.

“‘You don’t have a boyfriend, you’re not so young’. She was concerned for her ageing son like any Indian mum would be, irrespective of whether he is homosexual or heterosexual,” Harish said.

“Normally, if there is a problem with an ad, then the department will come to me. It raised no eyebrows at all. We are pro-equal rights and have been running vociferous campaigns against discrimination on the grounds of sexual orientation.”

“Historically, Indians have always had marriages arranged by parents or relatives as the preferred way of getting hitched. There has been an outpouring of support for the gay community but there remains a huge conservative community too, which is a majority and is unwilling to accept gays,” Kalbag noted.

“It was an innocent attempt by a mother to find a partner for her son. She did what any other would have done. I do not understand the controversy over this advertisement,” said Iyer.