As said in Indian English, let me explain you kinnars. Kinnar is a term, mainly used in South Asia, to describe a male to female transgender individual. Kinnars (hijra, eunuch, khawaja, sira, khusra, zenana, and narnban can all be synonyms for kinnar) are in a special transgender bubble. They are not transgender in the sense where they are born male and feel they were meant to be female, at least not exactly. Kinnars are typically males born with born with genital ambiguity/deformation that then move on to having feelings of belonging to the female gender. But again it’s hard because kinnars do not fall into a black and white male or female category, nor do they want to. In 2014 the Indian Supreme Court granted transgender individuals in India the legal status of the 3rd gender. They are the 7th country to do so while the US only recognizes the male-female binary. So kinnars are a group of male to female transgenders that make up the 3rd gender in India. That is the most basic definition I can give you, but luckily it gets 100,000 times more complex and fun when you dig deeper into who kinnars really are.
Hijras are found in Indian history and religion, although they are a group that is always in the minority. They were guards during the Mughal period for female royals, in ancient and medieval times they were military and civil workers in the political realm, and in Hindu ancient texts such as the Mahabharata and the Kama Sutra they are celebrated and revered members of society. In religion kinnars are devotees of Bahuchara Mata, a goddess. There are many stories of Bahuchara Mata in Hinduism but basically she is a goddess of fertility who has the power to give curses or blessings. In folklore those who worship her were ordered to castrate themselves and dress in women’s clothes. This connection to hijras, those with castrated/deformed genitals and dressed women’s fashion, makes them vehicles of Bahuchara Mata’s power to curse and to bless. Hijras are mainly associated with Hinduism but also originate from Islam and often work without the confines of a religions affiliation (I’ll talk about this later).
Dancers, singers, ritual performers, prostitutes, beggars, and curse and blessing bestowers. These are typical professions of kinnars. They almost always receive little to no education. Since they are mostly found in Desi culture they speak Hindi, Hijra Farsi, and other local dialect languages. They live in communes together, and as a group of kinnars they form a family with an older maternal head kinnar providing leadership and financial support. The HIV/AIDS rate is high among this population. They are often included in the LGBT community which unfortunately makes their lot worse in India.
According to Section 377 of the 1860 Indian Penal Code, “a same-sex relationship is an "unnatural offence" and punishable by a 10-year jail term”. An “unnatural offense" is defined as carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal. This 153 year old British colonial era law makes being gay in India illegal. This law was shortly repealed before reinstating it in 2013 therefore re-criminalization of homosexuality and bisexuality.
Currently kinnars have a right to choose their gender: female, male, or the 3rd gender but sexuality still remains a punishable act. With the creation of the 3rd gender hijras are now recognized on official documents such as government job and college quotas but change has not been as drastic as one would hope. Kinnars are now seeking affirmative action through the Transgender Persons Provision of Social Security Bill.
“We have claimed our space in the law, but we are not protected by it." - Bindiya Rana
“See, a law cannot change the mindset of the people; it is just a weapon to help the community access their rights.” - Ambalika Roy
According to Section 377 of the 1860 Indian Penal Code, “a same-sex relationship is an "unnatural offence" and punishable by a 10-year jail term”. An “unnatural offense" is defined as carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal. This 153 year old British colonial era law makes being gay in India illegal. This law was shortly repealed before reinstating it in 2013 therefore re-criminalization of homosexuality and bisexuality.
Currently kinnars have a right to choose their gender: female, male, or the 3rd gender but sexuality still remains a punishable act. With the creation of the 3rd gender hijras are now recognized on official documents such as government job and college quotas but change has not been as drastic as one would hope. Kinnars are now seeking affirmative action through the Transgender Persons Provision of Social Security Bill.
“We have claimed our space in the law, but we are not protected by it." - Bindiya Rana
“See, a law cannot change the mindset of the people; it is just a weapon to help the community access their rights.” - Ambalika Roy
My heightened interest in hijras has made countless people here uncomfortable, confused, and estranged. It doesn’t bother me that my willingness to talk about something so taboo makes other uncomfortable. I might even go as far to say that I ENJOY bringing up kinnars in casual conversation. When AFS told the four of us that we were going to Varanasi for a week long trip to conduct a research project of our choosing I naturally clung to the hijra population as my subject of interest. Because it made my teachers so shy I was shocked when I actually discovered a kinnar interview on our itinerary.
My interview was on the last day of our stay in Varanasi with the leader of a group of Kinnars. This whole plan was better than 7 Christmas mornings in a row to me. I was going to actually talk to real live kinnars and learn actual first hand information about a group that is so mysterious and separated from society. I had prepared for this moment by crafting a questionnaire in Hindi with basic Hindi that an uneducated person would be able to understand. Seriously you have to be careful when you speak Hindi because you won’t be understood if you use words that are so “pure Hindi” or heavy Hindi they aren’t used in daily life. The Daly College students don’t even know what we say sometimes when we use our new pure Hindi vocabulary words. Inevitably I ran into this problem when I was interviewing the hijras and asked how they became kinnars. They all laughed and simply said, “from birth we have been this way”. Again this particular response comes from a Hindi divide, if I had used old, pure Hindi words to ask them, “what initiation processes or rights did you undergo in order to become an official kinnar?” they would not have understood the Hindi, but when I asked, “how did you become a kinnar?” their responses were not very clear. I had balance of basic questions but also some deeper questions that would give me the information I was seeking without making anyone uncomfortable. I even had Lauren assigned to photography and video, Sam on back-up hindi questions in case things lulled, and Liam on moral support. But like everything else in India, nothing went according to plan and nothing worked out the way I had originally thought. This is not to say that my interview failed only to say that I had a nice dose of the real world screaming at me, “KATE THINGS DO NOT ALWAYS GO THE WAY YOU PLAN EVEN IF YOU PLAN INTO INFINITY BEFOREHAND”!!
My interview was on the last day of our stay in Varanasi with the leader of a group of Kinnars. This whole plan was better than 7 Christmas mornings in a row to me. I was going to actually talk to real live kinnars and learn actual first hand information about a group that is so mysterious and separated from society. I had prepared for this moment by crafting a questionnaire in Hindi with basic Hindi that an uneducated person would be able to understand. Seriously you have to be careful when you speak Hindi because you won’t be understood if you use words that are so “pure Hindi” or heavy Hindi they aren’t used in daily life. The Daly College students don’t even know what we say sometimes when we use our new pure Hindi vocabulary words. Inevitably I ran into this problem when I was interviewing the hijras and asked how they became kinnars. They all laughed and simply said, “from birth we have been this way”. Again this particular response comes from a Hindi divide, if I had used old, pure Hindi words to ask them, “what initiation processes or rights did you undergo in order to become an official kinnar?” they would not have understood the Hindi, but when I asked, “how did you become a kinnar?” their responses were not very clear. I had balance of basic questions but also some deeper questions that would give me the information I was seeking without making anyone uncomfortable. I even had Lauren assigned to photography and video, Sam on back-up hindi questions in case things lulled, and Liam on moral support. But like everything else in India, nothing went according to plan and nothing worked out the way I had originally thought. This is not to say that my interview failed only to say that I had a nice dose of the real world screaming at me, “KATE THINGS DO NOT ALWAYS GO THE WAY YOU PLAN EVEN IF YOU PLAN INTO INFINITY BEFOREHAND”!!
After receiving a meeting place and a time Lauren, Sam, Liam, Dr. Rajopadhyay (our Hindi guru), and I squeezed into our car and drove over an hour in hiccup stop-start traffic. Right about the point where Liam and I were melting into a conjoined puddle of car sickness we saw a group of five kinnars on the street. I lost my cool (sorry Sam for hitting you in the head in my effort to retrieve my camera). I jumped out of the car only to realize that everyone was looking at me waiting for me to take charge. No problem, I love being in charge. As a collective group, hijras and students alike, we moved under the shade of a household appliance shop while the road chaos continued without any consideration for us and our plight for cultural understanding. After that point I was unsure where to go because I had been told we were meeting in their home and a lot of really fast slang Hindi was going on around us. A whole 10 seconds later I realized there would be no lovely interview where I could ask my kinnars questions until I was red in the face. There was no perfect questionnaire. No natural Hindi speaker knew what was going on more than I did and wasn’t confident enough to jump in and help a sister out. I did what any type A, control freak would do in that situation, freeze in terror and run through all the possible ways to fix it. I was snapped back into reality with the disinterested and annoyed facial expressions and loud fata fat’s//immediately’s from Shundari, the head kinnar.
Frazzled I stumbled over my questionnaire brilliantly (and I say this with extreme sarcasm) asking each individual their name and age in this time pressed situation. Shundari, Neesha, and Muskan told me their names proudly. This is where things started to get fuzzy. I then asked if the names they had just introduced themselves with were their names from birth. I am 99% confident those names are names they adopted when they became kinnars and they likely had boy names at birth. It was confusing when they said that, yes those names were in fact the names they were given when they were born. Now this could have just been a matter of different perceptions of birth. I was talking literally about the name given by parents to their infant child but they may have been talking about the names they received after their emasculation/initiation ceremony as a kinnar which is viewed as a rebirth. Because of the impending hand clapping and money demanding that needed to be taken care of by them that day there was no time for clarification. They were an older generation of hijras raging from 35-50 years old. I’m assuming this is because becoming a kinnar and joining a hijra colony is something done after leaving behind a biological family and childhood. They couldn’t even remember at what age they left their families.
I asked what they were doing in Varanasi and how they made money. Shundari immediately jumped to tell me that they were hijras who give blessings at births. That they are transgenders but they are not gay, they are not gay like the transgenders “in my place” and those transgenders in my place don’t even give anyone blessings. Shundari was very confident in her knowledge of my place, I mean why wouldn’t she be? I don’t know any fun blessing giving transgenders in the US. She said their main income comes from giving blessings at functions such as births and weddings. They perform songs and dances along with their famous stretched out, flat handed claps in order to make a living. She said none of them received any formal education, but I’m fairly positive some of the ladies were able to read Hindi because as I was asking this they started to crane over my shoulder to get a look at my prashavali//questionnaire. My favorite part of this whole 10 minute interaction was when I asked them what they do for their religion or what religion they associate with. Neesha told me they do not differentiate between religions and to them Sikhism, Islam, Hinduism, and Christianity are all the same. They said that they did feel accepted in society because people knew who they were and kept their distance, although I don’t think that necessarily means being accepted in society. In the end I asked if they were happy in their lives. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to this, no one wants to live a life as a beggar ostracized from society and I was right. Neesha said that no, she wasn’t happy and that life as a kinnar is not easy and it is not something she would want. Not a high point to end a conversation on, but at least it was a truthful one.
Shundari ushered her sisters into the next shop while clapping and shouting for money from those passing by. We were rushed into our car and as soon as our time with them began it ended.
Frazzled I stumbled over my questionnaire brilliantly (and I say this with extreme sarcasm) asking each individual their name and age in this time pressed situation. Shundari, Neesha, and Muskan told me their names proudly. This is where things started to get fuzzy. I then asked if the names they had just introduced themselves with were their names from birth. I am 99% confident those names are names they adopted when they became kinnars and they likely had boy names at birth. It was confusing when they said that, yes those names were in fact the names they were given when they were born. Now this could have just been a matter of different perceptions of birth. I was talking literally about the name given by parents to their infant child but they may have been talking about the names they received after their emasculation/initiation ceremony as a kinnar which is viewed as a rebirth. Because of the impending hand clapping and money demanding that needed to be taken care of by them that day there was no time for clarification. They were an older generation of hijras raging from 35-50 years old. I’m assuming this is because becoming a kinnar and joining a hijra colony is something done after leaving behind a biological family and childhood. They couldn’t even remember at what age they left their families.
I asked what they were doing in Varanasi and how they made money. Shundari immediately jumped to tell me that they were hijras who give blessings at births. That they are transgenders but they are not gay, they are not gay like the transgenders “in my place” and those transgenders in my place don’t even give anyone blessings. Shundari was very confident in her knowledge of my place, I mean why wouldn’t she be? I don’t know any fun blessing giving transgenders in the US. She said their main income comes from giving blessings at functions such as births and weddings. They perform songs and dances along with their famous stretched out, flat handed claps in order to make a living. She said none of them received any formal education, but I’m fairly positive some of the ladies were able to read Hindi because as I was asking this they started to crane over my shoulder to get a look at my prashavali//questionnaire. My favorite part of this whole 10 minute interaction was when I asked them what they do for their religion or what religion they associate with. Neesha told me they do not differentiate between religions and to them Sikhism, Islam, Hinduism, and Christianity are all the same. They said that they did feel accepted in society because people knew who they were and kept their distance, although I don’t think that necessarily means being accepted in society. In the end I asked if they were happy in their lives. I was pretty sure I already knew the answer to this, no one wants to live a life as a beggar ostracized from society and I was right. Neesha said that no, she wasn’t happy and that life as a kinnar is not easy and it is not something she would want. Not a high point to end a conversation on, but at least it was a truthful one.
Shundari ushered her sisters into the next shop while clapping and shouting for money from those passing by. We were rushed into our car and as soon as our time with them began it ended.