WHaQ!

Volunteer for the Bangalore Queer Film Festival 2012!

2012-02-08T16:19:00.000+05:30

Volunteer at the BQFF 2012

You can help the Bangalore Queer Film Festival 2012 by volunteering. There are plenty of opportunities and many tasks that need to be done. Contact us as soon as possible after going through the tasks and filling up the application form.

Volunteer Teams and Tasks

Please go through the list of Volunteer Teams that are going to be needed and choose which one you feel interested in and committed to.

Volunteer Application Form

Please fill up the VOLUNTEER APPLICATION FORM and send it by email addressed to Ms. Rohini Malur, here.

What To Do in Case of Homophobic Abuse

2012-01-19T15:37:00.003+05:30

Hey everyone,

After a recent incident of homophobic abuse, in fact it happened on the pride night (i know..how sad and ironic). Emanuel and I wrote up this guide. Let us know if there are any additions that can be made.

Please read it and take something useful from it. Thanks again for all the inspiration!

-----------------------

What To Do in Case of Homophobic Abuse

1. What is Homophobic abuse?
Homophobic abuse can range from name-calling, discriminatory language, taunting, to physical alternations, violence, throwing of objects, and the list goes on. Any kind of willfully discriminatory action towards one or more LGBT persons can be considered homophobic abuse.

2. Where it can happen?
Anywhere. Homophobic abuse can happen in the most gay friendly neighborhood and in the least. Reports of homophobic abuse have been made in areas as public as Church Street and Times Square but can also happen just outside your doorstep, at school, or at work.

While homophobic abuse can happen anywhere it is important to not live your life in fear. Know what to do if you encounter a situation of abuse and empower yourself to stay smart when it happens.

3. What is legal?
Being LGBT is legal in India. Intimidation, blackmailing, and assault are illegal. Know your rights. No one in India can be “caught” for being gay. If someone threatens to reveal your identity or take you to the police it is important for you to call them on their bluff. Tell them that you will gladly go to the police and report them for intimidation, assault, and blackmail. If they do end up bringing you to the police they will be the ones in trouble. Again, being gay is not a crime.

4. What to do if you are in this situation?

If you find yourself in a situation of homophobic abuse, here are some tips:

A. Stay calm
Keep a cool head throughout. This will help you think clearly about what you should and the best steps to take. Staying calm does not mean not reacting or responding, but it is important to not freak out. Abusers pray on fear so, even if you are terrified, don’t give the abuser the satisfaction of knowing it.

B. Be Proud and Be Smart
Proud:
If someone is calling you abusive names, telling you that you are disgusting or perverted, you can choose to ignore them and not give them the time of day or you can ask them why they are filled with so much hate. No matter how you respond, realized that you have a lot of to be proud of and that no one can take that away.

If someone says you are a filthy gay, you might think of saying: “I am gay and proud of it.” Or “ I am proud to be gay – if you have a problem with it, keep it to yourself.”

Smart:
Being smart means knowing how to judge a situation. If the abuser wants to get physical - by pushing you, throwing things at you, or the like - you need to be smart about how you react. If you feel as though you are capable of defending yourself and need to defend yourself than that is one choice of action, but if you are outnumbered, alone, or don’t feel comfortable defending yourself by responding physically then report to the nearest responsible adult and/or safe place immediately. If this is occurring inside a restaurant, bar, or residential area – alert the manager, bar owner, or look for a nearby safety zone immediately. Don’t wait.
Please also see the emergency numbers section just below.

C. Call emergency numbers.
Have these important emergency numbers stored in your phone and on quick dial and make sure to call them immediately when the abuse starts. There is no such thing as being too careful or too responsive to homophobic abuse. The worse that can happen is you get some back up in the case the situation does worsen and a little moral support in case in doesn’t. The people on the other side of these phone lines are there to help. They want to be there and they want to help you.

Even if the incident is over and the abusers have left, you can give these numbers a call to report what happened.

Sangama runs 24/7 crisis hotlines. If you are ever in trouble, call them. They will help you ASAP
+91 994 560 1651 / +91 994 560 1652
+91 994 560 1653 / +91 994 560 1654
+91 994 523 1493
The Alternative Law Forum
+91 80 2286 5757 / +91 80 2286 8757
Good As You/Swabhava
+91 80 2223 0959
Lawyers Collective Bangalore
+91 80 4123 9130 / +91 80 4123 9131

D. Report the incident

One of the biggest obstacles in fighting homophobic abuse is a lack of data. Without enough hard data and statistics it becomes hard to implement policies that will make our cities and our lives safer. Policies such as sensitizing and training police, implementing extra watches around certain problem areas, and even the changing of laws to be stricter when punishing those who commit these crimes, are all potential results of increased reporting.

There are many ways to report an incident anonymously. One can file an anonymous report at a police station, get a friend to do the same, leave an anonymous tip on a police phone line, or send in a letter or email.

In you have chosen to report the incident to the necessary authorities it may also be a good idea to bring up the situation to peer support groups in your area. There are a variety of support groups throughout India that provide safe spaces for LGBT people to talk about incidences of abuse. In Bangalore, the Thursday night Good As You meetings continue to provide a forum for individuals to share their stories, seek solidarity and advise, and inform fellow community members.

While it can be very frightening to report or to talk about incidences of homophobic abuse, this is one of the best ways in which to use your experience as a force for positive change. Our power is that we are in the midst of a worldwide civil rights movement and the world is listening. These issues are being talked about in meeting rooms, offices, and coffeehouses around the globe and incidents such as this add needed real-life examples to that conversation. If everyone kept their experiences a secret it is almost assured that nothing would change – but if we share then we have the ability to empower others and gain perspective ourselves.

5. Some quotes from people

“When I was in my final year in law school…these people…broke into my room and found these books that my boyfriend had gifted me and just kind of tore them up and scribbled…fag on the cover and obviously broke the lock open for that. If you are in an institutional set up than I would say approaching the authorities is a great idea. In other circumstances, anyone who bullies and an anyone who is homophobic does not deserve your time and patience…I would say contact your local NGO person, whoever they may be – they’re always very helpful here. For instance I did talk to people at ALF when that happened and you know, they were of some use to help give me advice for things.” Sundeep

“Two years ago I was stalked by a man instead a car. It was quite late -11 PM. At 11 I went out [and] started walking and I could feel something, you know? It’s creepy. It’s scary. It’s dark outside – no one’s around so there was a neighbor cigarette shop and people there knew me well so I stopped there, I started smoking a cigarette and the car stopped right there. I still had a kilometer to walk. I decided I am not going to look the person in the eyes and I just kept walking and walking walking and I made it to my home.” Saeed

“Another time, back then, in 2004, I had just started meeting people. I met this guy. One morning my mom told me that a friend of you wants to speak to you. I heard a random unfamiliar voice on the phone saying, ‘I heard that you were hot in bed. Meet me tomorrow at 5 PM.’ That you have to come, you have no option. That was hilarious I replied, ‘If I decline what are you gonna do?’ He said ‘I’m going” to speak to your mom and I’m going to tell her what you are doing around in this town.’ I said ‘good luck’ I slammed the phone. Nothing happened.” Saeed

“My BF & I checked into a hotel in Chennai for a night in 2009 (after decriminalization of Homosexuality in India). He lives in Mumbai & had came out to his parents that day (which went disastrously). He rushed to Chennai to be with me. We had to stay in a hotel because I lived with my parents & didn't have enough privacy.

When we checked out the next day, guys at the front desk made some nasty comments (behind us). And also asked persistently why we were staying in a room when we live in Chennai (I had given my address during check-in. They didn't have any problems letting us stay & wanted the business.)

For the next few weeks, I got harassing calls at my residence. The guy who called spoke to whoever picked the phone & said thing like " I am Mohan's wife speaking", "May I speak to Mohan madam" (referring me as a female), "Mohan sir indha vaaram entha hotel, enna rate?" (Which hotel is Mohan staying this week? what is his rate?) etc..

My parents were very upset. I am out to them, so I explained what happened & asked them to ignore the calls. I didn't pursue this with the hotel.” “It took every ounce of my energy and will to write this mail without being overtly emotional though the entire experience was an eruption of emotions. Mohan

Never in million years would anyone of us have thought that our regular weekend pub hopping would end up in such disheartening and humiliating experience. Being able to glide through in and out of the lounges and bars for many years we never would have imagined that something like this will happen to us. Assuming being well educated and being in the cream layers of the society will make things easier for queer men was shattered.

What can be merrier and joyous than being with bunch of gay men who could just see everything on a lighter note??? That was the state of mind we were in when we started out on 23rd October Sunday evening. As we were getting ready we got a call from couple of our friends who were already in a bar (The Zodiac bar at The Accord Metropolitan) to come and join them. Since this is one of the bar we have frequented we went inside and after the usual greetings and hugs couple of us placed the orders and others started looking through the menu One of us was carrying a man bag and the waiter sort of whispered to the bartender pointing him. When our friend asked the bartender about our order he didn’t answer. The manager I presume told him that there is no service for our group and we are not allowed and asked him to leave the bar.

Since he couldn’t talk Tamil and the manager couldn’t respond well in English, we, who were busy going through menu sensed something was wrong as our friend started looking perplexed.

The entire scene unfolded in the lounge outside the bar when we asked why there is no service. One of the service guys said they allow only men and women. We were shocked by this response. It was a blow to our pride and we were completely taken aback.

Incredulous as it sounded one of us asked him again what he is trying to say, he said that “men and women only sir, gays lam allowed illa”. We shot back that there is no such rules listed in entrance and we have every right to be there and they are unreasonable denying service. Then came another guy who started talking in Tamil said “ungala ulla vidradellam asingam. Kelambu kelambu” (it’s a shame for us to let u inside. Move move).

We were addressing him with respect till then and he started addressing us in a disrespectful way, tone and body language.The argument got heated and we asked them if they have any rules against letting gay men in the bar and if so they should put that in sign board and or give it to us in writing stating so. When we were inquiring on the regulations this guy became abusive and told “naalu aalungala kooptu thorathunga ivangala” (Bring four guys and chase them away).
We were so shocked and stunned by the way the management was handling and we demanded we spoke to their higher authority stating that’s they aren’t managing the issue well. He said that “adhellam mudiyaadu. Ungalukku yellarayum kooduvaangala”. (We can’t call authorities and all).

Though I had every intention of making a protest in the lounge we realized that we could do nothing about it and decided to leave the place before things got uglier.
The entire experience was so humiliating, though we all stood up against the discrimination, it dint fail to leave a deep rooted scar. I couldn’t imagine how worse the same would have been if we weren’t a bunch. When I look back at this entire scenario, I realized how feeble legal and social support is towards the queers.

Though we couldn’t do much on the issue, sharing it in this space might make us realize that we don’t have to put up with everything. At the least we could voice our protest.” Manohar

All names mentioned above in the incidents have been changed

Slutwalk police permission revoked.

2011-12-04T07:05:00.001+05:30

https://www.facebook.com/notes/slutwalk-bangalore-the-official-portal/a-note-of-victory/303434233020408

I'm copy-pasting the most important bitsfrom Dhillan Mowli's note below, but you should click the link above to read the whole thing.

I’m home today after a very long and very hard day. Amongst the many emotions that the events of today rile up, a sense of victory stands tall. Today was a day of victory. I met with the Additional Commissioner of Police (Law and Order), Mr. Suneel Kumar, at 3:00 P.M. in the afternoon; he was warm and receptive to the cause and only asked me to ensure that no “untowardly incidents” happen at the march. I gave him my guarantee (obviously enough) and walked out with a sense of nervous anticipation.

At 8:15 P.M. we get a call from the Police Commissioner’s office saying that our permission has been revoked. Why? Because of “security concerns” they said. Mr. Suneel Kumar, informed my mum (who has also been helping with organizing) that the BJP, RSS, Ram Sene and other organizations had aggressively protested against the march happening. Many of them had apparently even communicated in the tone of threatening violence if the march went on. And hence, just as we were at the printers getting the last of the banners printed out, SlutWalk Bengaluru was brought to a crude halt.
...

Now let’s visit the issue that SlutWalk actually tackles – Victim Blaming. We were made an example of the very issue we sought to fight. Instead of providing us with the security we needed, the police decided to put the onus on us as the “ones who are attracting trouble”. True there may be “undesirable” elements, true there may be people wanting to cause trouble and true the risks may be many more. But the solution is not to shut down a perfectly legitimate movement that addresses an issue that has landed our country’s reputation at the bottom of the global barrel. The solution is to beef up measures and ensure that such “undesirable elements” do not obstruct a peaceful protest. Don’t punish the victim, punish the criminal. Don’t brand those protesting against Victim Blaming as a “Law & Order threat”. Blame those who think it’s NOT ok to protest against victim blaming.

And for an “upcoming superpower” such as ourselves, it is truly pathetic that all we look for is the smuggled tantalism of skimpy clothing in a movement whose true aim is to protest the act of blaming a victim of sexual assault. Burqa, salwar, sari, jeans, shorts, hot pants or a skirt; it doesn’t matter. It never did. The word “Slut” was simply a play on irony, something that is clearly lost on many of our extremists. We had 22,172 reported cases of rape in 2010. That amounts roughly to 1 rape every 34 minutes and 1 case of molestation every 26 minutes. 571 reported rapes of children under the age of 10. The conviction rate is 26.6 %. And this is just for rape, not any other form of sexual abuse. In the face of figures like that, it’s appalling that these “upholders of Indian culture” think they can tell me how to dress and how to behave, when i choose to protest for my right not to be blamed for a sexual crime committed against me. What they have done is not sent us back with our tails between our legs, but instead taken on an underdog that will chew their rancid mentality and spit it out for good.

You know, I went to the first Slutwalk meeting and then decided that I wasn't going to be able to work with them - the people in charge had styles that put my back up. SR went along a little longer, but stopped for much the same reasons - well, worse, because they'd had time to pile up.

Some of us dislike the Slutwalk campaigns because it's sensationalising, because reclamation is never an entirely successful project, and often not at all, because being sex positive needn't mean being publicity positive, because the Slutwalk campaign as it is a structured does not lend itself with ease to class/caste/race solidarity,

But one of the essential principles from the outside remains worth while - we can wear what we like on the streets and still have the right to not be raped. Our clothing is not someone's excuse to hurt us. We don't rape ourselves. Someone else does that, and then pretends that we deserved it, the way someone is sent to jail after being convicted in court for murder/robbery - and yes, rape.

People looked at the methodology of the march, and proved the Slutwalk point - they will blame us, shut us down, pull out the time-exploited phrase "Indian culture", threaten us with physical harm - all to stop us from openly, collectively, powerfully taking responsibility for ourselves, and denying responsibility for the actions of others.

We've just come out of Pride Week - which went off very nearly without a hitch. The police walked with us, talked with us, did crowd and traffic control with us. We spoke to reporters and were on tv, and in the print media. I was speaking to AC about this and she said"it's safer to be gay in this city than a slut" - which basically means it's not safe to be a woman, at all.

Well fuck them. Fuck them all. I'm out tomorrow in high heels and low necklines, 'cos I wanna, and they can't stop me. And if they try, it's on them, and not on me.

<looks for pepper spray and camera>

Poster/Accessories making, Bangalore Pride 2011

2011-11-16T15:37:00.001+05:30

Assemble at the Swabhava office on the 17th of November, 6:30 pm onwards. We're making posters, hats, bands, you name it! All the things we make will be worn on the 27th, during the Pride March. If you're not sure you're up to volunteering for entire events, but want to pitch in anyway, this is a great place for to help out and express yourself at the same time. (This is also a safe zone for people who're not sure about being out in public - you don't have to feel left out!)

If you miss it, don't worry! There will be a second workshop on the 23rd of November, at ALF, from 2 pm to 6 pm. :)

Be there and be queer, people!

In memory of Famila.

2011-11-05T04:50:00.000+05:30

So, the Programme in Memory of Famila is happening on the 6th, this Sunday, at 5 pm. Famila was a woman who did crucial work for queer women - trans, lesbian, bi - in Bangalore. I'm making it a part of the WHaQ! Sunday meeting agenda.

The programme is the official agenda of the WHaQ! meeting. I'll open the office at 4, and stay there till 4:45 - anyone who wants to come but doesn't know the way to 1 Shanti road can come to the office and we'll go together. Others can meet us directly there.

We can do dinner after, for those who don't want to come to Famila's programme but want to meet the WHaQ! group in any case.

Here's the original invite, from the CSMR list:

Dear Friends,

We invite you for this program.

Organised by
Friends of Famila

A PROGRAM IN MEMORY OF FAMILA
Organized by friends of Famila
Famila,a radical feminist, very active in queer politics, a Hijra who questioned allforms of hierarchy and feudalist patriarchal systems within and outside thecommunity, a beautiful person who brought in new visions and aspects to queerpolitics died in the year 2004 when she was 24 years.
Familaidentified herself as a Hijra, sex worker, bisexual and a feminist. She was aboard member of Sangama, an organization working for the human rights of sexualminorities, an active member in Vividha, an autonomous collective ofmarginalized sexualities and genders. She was also working in Sangama as aproject coordinator for Hijras and transgenders. Her everyday life itselfwas a challenge to the hetero-normative patriarchal society. Many people duringher time boasted about communal living but never succeeded. She was a real examplefor communal living, as there were many people who lived in her house. It was ahouse of marginalized sexualities and genders. This shows that she not onlyidentified herself as Hijra but also respected and accepted different sexualand gender identities in its real meaning.
Familawas born on 6^th November 1980. She was the first person to goagainst her own community to accommodate all queer identities, especially thefemale born sexual minorities, in her house providing shelter.
Familawas well known for her clear, straightforward and radical articulation of thestruggle of marginalized sexualities and genders in many conferences andprograms. She took a lead role in organizing the 2^nd Hijra Habba inBangalore through the autonomous collective Vividha, mobilizing more than 2000people for the program and collecting funds from public to fight for the rightsof marginalized sexualities and genders.
Unfortunately,she passed away in 2004 July, at the age of 24. There has been a huge loss tothe work that she planned to do and also that kind of radical politics. Forfriends of Famila she is not dead and is very much alive for many of us in ourmemories. A few friends of Famila from last year have started celebrating herbirthday in her memory to keep her radical politics alive.
Weare organizing a program in memory of Famila on 6^th November 2011 atthe 1, Shanti Road, Shantinagar, where her friends will share their experienceswith her and some footage will be shown about her. People who would like to sharetheir experiences about the interactions with her are most welcome to do so.
Speakers– A.Revathi, Shakun Mohini and Chandini
Venue– 1, Shanti Road, Shanti Nagar, Bangalore - 560027
Dateand Timings – Sunday, 6^th November 2011, from 5 PM to 7 PM

WHaQ! Sunday meeting, 24th October, 20011

2011-10-24T13:23:00.000+05:30

No cookies for me today, I had assistance with the door.

Six people showed up, including the newbie who could only stay for five minutes.

A brief summary of what we talked about:

The Pride Mela. As always, contact me if you want to volunteer or contribute, or any of the others mentioned in the initial call-out. (Here's the larger Queer Pride list, if you want to do something not-mela related for the Pride.)
Famila. Famila was a "a radical feminist, very active in queer politics, a Hijra who questioned allforms of hierarchy and feudalist patriarchal systems within and outside thecommunity, a beautiful person who brought in new visions and aspects to queerpolitics died in the year 2004 when she was 24 years." The Friends of Famila are organising a program in her memory on the 6th of November at 5 pm. The venue is 1 Shanthi road. The speakers will be A. Revathi, Shakun Mohini and Chandini.(As an aside, read A. Revathi's The Truth About Me. You won't regret it., I promise you.)
Dear Bangalorean Queer Woman: Yesterday's meeting makes me wonder if you do in fact need to be told that spankings can be in an incredibly erotic experience. FYI.
The media, and how it is weird.
Child adoption in India, what we can do, what we can't.
why more WHaQ members hadn't shown up to the meeting. :(
All the fun that was had at yesterday's sleepover. (If you were there, you know what I'm talking about.)
Money for Pride! We should get Siddharth a huge piggy bank to keep on donation tables. We can put Pride stickers on it, or something. Seriously, look at this pig: how could you let him down?

Sangini (India) Trust calls for volunteer counsellors.

2011-10-24T12:35:00.003+05:30

Pasting this from the original Facebook post:

"Have you heard of women who love women, biological women who feel that they are actually men, sometimes more sometimes less, lesbian, bisexual, transgender individuals?

Did you know they exist in every culture, occupation, religion, state, socio-economic class, country, marital status, and race?
In fact, wherever you go, you actually meet women who are attracted to women and/or feel they are trapped in the wrong body.

But why can’t you see them? The reason is that we are often silent about ourselves and our feelings and that makes us invisible. So, we become in a way unseen/unheard of. You will think now, fine, I don’t need to tell everyone about my feelings. Perfectly alright!
But there are times when each one of us needs someone to talk: heart-pain, parents want you to get married, you struggle with your family to be allowed to have short hair, you feel lonely, just need to talk to someone in confidence, or simply want to be linked to a larger community.

For times like these, when you have really no one to talk to there have been counselors around. Sangini Counselors have been talking to women attracted to women and transgender individuals since 1997 over phone, face-to-face, email, etc.

Currently Sangini (India) Trust is looking for volunteers who want to become counselors. Sangini was established in 1997 and was the first organization in India to offer Helpline and Community services to women attracted to women, queer, transgender, lesbian, bisexual individuals.

We are looking for YOU:
Are you a woman who feels attracted to women? Have you been born into a female body but feel that’s completely mis-matched with your actual self, you are actually a man?
Want to make a difference?
Do you enjoy listening to people?
Can spare a few days for training. Thereafter 5 to 6 out of the 168 hours every week?
Have been wondering how to get more people to become part of the community?

What you get in return:
•Intensive training on ‘Counseling skills, ethics, and principles’;
•Exposure to other organizations working on LGBT issues;
•Chance to interact and learn from various senior counselors, trainers and activists;
•A chance to help people who really need your help.

Grab this opportunity to support women attracted to women, lesbian/bisexual/transgender individuals and couples move out of shame and towards pride.

Interested? Write to us at sangini97@hotmail.com and tell us a little about yourself and how we can contact you.
Or
Call at 9810671603 (Monday to Friday, 11am to 5pm)
Deadline for signing up as a volunteer: November 3, 2011
Counseling training: November 12 and 13 (weekend)
Location: New Delhi"

About Sangini: click here and here.

Pride Mela details!

2011-10-15T03:56:00.002+05:30

We are excited to announce that the 2^nd annualBengaluru Pride Mela is scheduled for Saturday Nov 26^th, 2011.

We are looking for:

PERFORMANCES
Skits, magic, dance (Bollywood, Tollywood, Kollywood, Hiphop, Classical, Latin American, Contemporary), drama, stand up comedy, poetry,etc. All performance styles arewelcome!
Performances should be under 10 minutes long. Please email your name / the name ofyour group, along with a sentence description of the performance to Kareem: kareem.khubchandani@gmail.com. Submission deadline is Nov 10^th.

STALLS
We welcome NGOs and other LGBT friendly organizations,bookstores, arts and crafts, henna artists, tattoo artists, food and drinkvendors, florists, gift vendors etc.
If you are interested in setting up a stall, please contactRohini: romavenkat@gmail.com forfurther information. Submissiondeadline is the 10th of November.

PICTURES
We are hosting a photography competition as part of thepride celebrations. LGBTQ orientedphotos that fit the theme “IN PUBLIC,” are invited for submission. Interpretation of the theme isopen to the photographer. Thewinning photographs will be published in India’s queermagazines: Fun, and Pink Pages.
Please email your submissions to Prithvi: prithvijho@gmail.com. Submissions should include a high-qualitydigital photograph, photographer’s name and contact info, and a title or oneline description of the photo. Submissiondeadline is Nov 10^th.

VOLUNTEERS
The mela is a big event and we need help making it runsmoothly. If you would like tohelp out, please email Krishna: krishnapatil22@gmail.com.

Please do not hesitate to contact any of us for further informationabout the Mela!

Krishna, Kumar, Kareem, Rohini, Prithvi, and Sam

Quick and Dirty Update about Pride

2011-10-15T03:50:00.001+05:30

Life has been kicking my ASS this last week or more, and I'm finally, almost, free and back, and missing you girls like crazy.

This is a brief summary of what this year's Queer Pride Bangalore will (mostly) look like:

November 19th, Saturday - a fund raising garage sale at ALF
November 20th, Sunday - a cricket match? I wasn't at all interested, so I forgot, insensitively, that others might be. Will find out and update you guys.
November 22nd, Tuesday - Transgender Day of Remembrance - probably a candlelight vigil at MG statue
November 24th, Thursday - Hopefully something at the Swabhava office. Maybe Vinay will run a movie? I'm not sure anyone has actually spoken to him about it, so this might not happen at all, and might just be a little bit like a park bench stories thing, except without the park.
November 25th, Friday - a panel discussion, but we're not sure what on just yet.
November 26th, Saturday - a Mela, with stalls and performances, hopefully to be held at Ravindra Kalakshetra. And after, we party!*
November 27th, Saturday - Pride March. As far as I know we haven't got permission for routes for the march yet, though we do have options.

The next planning meeting is on the 19th, next Wednesday, at ALF. Probably at 6: 30. Everything is still a bit up in the air. I'm setting up a WHaQ meeting on Sunday, so those of you who want more detailsshould contact me.

And lastly, venally and importantly: donations, we need them! Look at this adorable pig:

How can you resist that?

*Actually, I daresay there will be parties all over the place, but this one will happen after the Mela, so there!

SlutWalk (?) Bangalore planning meeting

2011-10-04T14:23:00.000+05:30


No one actually recommends walking in those heels; they do look pretty, though.

So, the Slutwalk. This is where it started: in summation: a Toronto policeman told a safety class that "women should avoid dressing like sluts in order not to be victimized."

In the world where we live, we take precautions. We do this for reasons of common sense, or fear, or because our personal styles insect with a life of taking precautions. Sometimes, we don't take precautions. We wear what we want, even if someone is going to say, That's provocative - sometimes because we want to be provocative. We drink, we walk the streets after dark, we have jobs and transport and we take advantage of our ability to move about freely. Sometimes, bad things happen - actually, no, let's rephrase that: Sometimes, people do bad things, and they sometimes do those bad things to us. The basic point of the Slutwalk is this: That the police, the public, the media, the society around us, should not use our attire as reasons to hold us responsible for someone else's actions against us, and further they should use use these as reasons to excuse or validate the actions of our assaulters.

To sum up: don't blame the victim. don't excuse the perpetrator. He is not "like that only". Don't police the victims. Police the assaulter.

It is a sad fact that in a world that is mostly, informally or formally, structured around patriarchal gender lines, a woman can be called a slut for any number of reasons - not all of them having anything to do with her sexual activity. She is rarely called a slut admiringly. She is not given the same admiration, she has not the same coolth - again, I am talking about the application of the label, not her actual behaviours - as a man who, for instance, is a stud, or even a womaniser. We can reclaim the label - we can say, I am happy to dress this way, I am happy to have sex, I am happy to have sex with several people over the course of time - or at once. We can reclaim the label, be proud to be sluts. We can eschew the label - we can say, I am not promiscuous, my clothing, my drinking, my travelling alone, does not mean that I have sex at all or out of careful relationship bounds. But none of this is the central point of a Slutwalk. The central point is this: In a case of assault, the action was not invited. No one asks to be raped.You do not get to excuse the rapist by implying that the woman asked for it, or is at fault for it. The rapist, the assaulter, is the only person responsible for his (and in this sort of case, it is usually a man, and there is room for argument later about statistics and the like) crime, the harm he did.

To repeat: Don't blame the victim. Don't call them sluts and think that the rape, the assault, was bound to happen. Don't blame the victim, don't excuse and validate the assaulter.

In Toronto, women took to the streets, dressed varyingly, "normally", "provocatively", to make the statement that no one asks to be raped, no matter her attire; "Yes" is not merely the absence of "No", that clothing is a superficial message at best, and not about (or just about) a woman's willingness to have sex with anyone in general, or the men who approach her in particular. They also organised open debates, workshops on gender sensitisation and the like, but the Walk was the Event, the centerpiece of the campaign. Their website is taking forever to load on my browser, but here is the link. SlutWalk Toronto: BECAUSE WE'VE HAD ENOUGH.

Following the Toronto Slutwalk in April, there have been rallies around the world, with the campaigns spreading to Asia, and now India. Delhi had a walk at the end of July - have a look at the site for the Besharmi Morcha.

Quick and dirty arguments for a "Slut"Walk and against.

But! Now there are people who are hoping to organise a SlutWalk, and satellite activities, in Bangalore. This is the official Facebook Portal for the Bangalore SlutWalk.

The first meeting was yesterday, at ALF. There seemed to be three main initiators: Dhillan Mowli, our own Sowmya, and someone whose name (I am not sure, I am a horrible person!) is probably Shonali.

[Let's ignore all the arguments for and against the campaign having a man in the collective helm for now. Let's also ignore arguments of male privilege, how we don't need a man to validate our voices and choices. It's an argument for later, and a moot discussion until more has been accomplished. Or not.]

[So long as it's not ignored forever.]

Not much has been decided. DM had a truly excessive list of things we could do associated with the walk - plays, street plays, films, photography exhibitions, music events, school and campus outreach programmes, open panel discussions.

It was a fairly long discussion, and I am not going to go through it all. Here are some of the main points, and main decisions we did manage to reach:

we're going to avoid a narrative of victimisation. The Walk, and associated events, are to be about our voices and choices, about the appropriate taking and apportioning of responsibility.
we need to figure out precisely what we are targeting: violence in public spheres, private spheres? Violence against women, children?
the concepts of consent - the giving, the denying, the requesting of it. A large part of or concern as feminists, individualists and as human beings is to ensure that people can clearly say, No. Or Yes. Or "Would you?" As women we have the right, and as citizens and social beings we have the duty, to exercise these privileges. We don't, very often. We're raised, conditioned to be nice, to be polite, to not make scenes. But sometimes, it's necessary. Make a scene, darlings, raise your voices. Ask for what you want! Accept what you want that is offered! Give what you want to give! And say No - and let's work on making sure that that No is heard.
The school/campus outreach programmes. They need a lot of work, to be structured, to have people who know what the hell they're doing - and if they're not just limited to December, we need more manpower and more training and people with skills. This is not stuff to be trifled with just because we have good intentions.
The word "Slut" - is this what we want? Is it context appropriate? Moral policing in India works along different narratives and terminology, with the same final effect. We need to name our SlutWalk something that connects with us in our contexts, without losing sight of our basic goal. This means we want to try to keep it a bilingual campaign, too.
Communication, networking with the police and the media. Reminding ourselves and the public that we have instance-specific reasons in Bangalore and Karnataka (remember Mangalore and what started there. Remember the recent Darshan horrors.) to conduct a campaign that speaks out against victim blaming, moral policing and assaulter-excusing.
We want this campaign to be inclusive. We do not want a one day spectacle that can be dismissed as "upper-middle-class women dressing up because they want to be able to dress up" - though we want that too. We want all women to be safe on the streets, without fear that they will blamed for being assaulted - this means we need to network harder with people outside of the internet platforms that have informed us of the SlutWalks so far.

Of immediate concern:

DECEMBER 4th. We walk.
So much of what we need to do begins with figuring out what we want to do, what our specific aims and goals are. We want to be done with that in two weeks or less.
We meet again on MONDAY, OCTOBER 10TH, 5 pm at ALF.

That's it for now. There's a lot of work to be done, and a lot of principle to be negotiated. Contact Sowmya or the the Facebook SlutWalk Bangalore Portal for more information or to volunteer!

WHaQ! meeting 11th September

2011-09-12T18:53:00.002+05:30

So it's been a month since we had a proper meeting and yesterday I trudged up to the garage door. IT ALMOST DEFEATED ME. But since I am the heroine of my own story, I prevailed!

One or two people came and left early. Three or two arrived late, just in time to come with the rest of us for coffee. Two new faces - Hi, guys, it was good to see you! Eight all told, I think.

What did we do?

Slutwalk Bangalore - is this a good idea? A bad one? Are we taking part, not taking part?
Coming out stories. Always and always, support is always such a lovely surprise, even when you know you're going to be getting it. And sometimes even the people who do not support you, who do not like the life you're going to live, can surprise you. They can detach, let go, even learn to accept. I'm a cynic. I think the world is fulll of horrible things and that even good people can show little chinks of crulty and insensitivity - we're all humna. But sometimes, it is nice to appreciate what some of us have, and hold onto a little hope.
Coming out requires a great deal of honesty. But honesty in and of itself is context-specific virtue. Our sexualities are one aspect of our lives, as with everything else. All of us are out there sacrificing one honesty for another, whether we're out or not.
Children. Ours. Having them, keeping them, loving them. And vice versa!
Yesterday was the tenth anniversary of 9/11.
Underground gay bars around the world. You'd be surprised where you find them.
Next's Sunday is games day! The event pages will go up soon.
How to tell someone who's just told you he thinks homosexuality is unnatural that you're queer: it's a bad idea. But do it anyway!
Lavender Nights. Nothing much has been going on there lately, and probably won't until after November.
Smoking. Apparently queer women smoke more than queer men. The smokers in our group were all, WOOO about this. I was, like, aw, no! My sexual target demographic is smeely and will die young!

Then we went for coffee. Coffee, as always, was awesome.

Going back home

2011-08-07T10:28:00.008+05:30

"Let us not look back in anger, nor forward in fear, but around in awareness." - James Thurber

How aptly this sums up my first couple of meetings with {WHaQ!}. This may sound odd to you; even dramatic. To me, it's been a long time coming and thank God for support groups like this. And thank you to the 2 lovely souls that helped me find you :-)

I remember calling the helpline a few weeks before the meeting. I had no idea what I was going to say. I wasn't sure who'd pick up the phone and when they did, how would I begin? Should I tell them the truth? Should I use my alias?

I could always start with "I'm calling on behalf of a friend..". But I didn't want to. For once, I wanted to drop this baggage I'd been carrying, all my life. It had worn me down enough. I was tired of pretending to be someone I wasn't. This wasn't about coming out to my family or my inner circle. They knew and supported me. And where they didn't understand, they loved me. Unconditionally. This was about finding support and not trying to do this journey, feeling alone.

After talking to V and R, I was happy. Elated even. But when D-day finally arrived, I was convinced that I couldn't do it. I was uncomfortable and scared. But with guardian angels looking out for me from Hyderabad to NYC, it became less fearful and more probable.

So I decided to go anyway. What was I going to lose? A lot, in fact. If things went horribly wrong as they did, 14 years ago. I still have nightmares from being hounded by blank calls, threats, and the humiliation I endured. And I haven't forgotten the violence that followed. Now, t's an even savvier, ever more intolerable world we live in. I was terrified by the possibilities. By the time I got out of my car, I was sick in my stomach. I was ready to go back. But I didn't want to let fear get the better of me. So I decided to go inside. I was told to look for a large group of women but didn't find anything close except 2 women who were chatting away. Maybe I was early. I stayed glued to my phone screen, sharing updates by the minute when one of the women approached me and asked: "Are you here for the {WHaQ!} meeting?" Instead of being scared or responding with a garbled, "What's that?" or "I've no idea what you're talking about…", I surprised myself by saying "Yes!"

Slowly, people started walking in and as I began to say hello, I realized that for the first time in my life, I was publicly, lesbian. The war that I had raged within was finally over. I met so many people. I found the face that connects to the lovely, clipped, British accent. I talked to so many people.They looked lovely. And genuine. And just out there to have a good time. For the first time in my life, it was okay to talk about Ellen and not see an unwritten question in their eyes. For the first time, it was okay to discuss all things big and small without worrying about whether I'm being judged for my sexuality. I was having such a good time that I was surprised when it was time to leave…I felt lighter. And walked taller.

3 years ago, I was all but broken. And my spirit, crushed. Two life events in the space of 4 months had changed my life, forever. First came the dreaded C that hit me like a freight train. Then came the unthinkable. The break-up of my marriage with my partner of 15 years. Everything I had nurtured and cherished broke into a million pieces. I lived to please her. But she was gone. Just like that. Her timing couldn't have been worse. I was stunned by the low points of humanness.

Today, I'm trying to make peace with myself. Maybe even have a cup of tea with life again. Without being cynical, angry, or afraid. And if I genuinely tried, who knows what can happen. Anything is possible. At least, I've taken the first baby step to going back home.

WHaQ! meeting: 31th July 2011

2011-08-01T16:51:00.000+05:30

Small meeting yesterday, 4 women showed up. Funness, and Matteo's after.

Short summary of what we discussed:

A few OBLs ago, we used to screen movies rather more regularly than we do now - something to actively think about doing again? This is a good opportunity to remind those of us who missed it about Deliver Me - D's first movie. We watched it as a group back in June. More of the same? Not every week, since sometimes we do have other agendas - agendae? - but it would be nice.
At least one of the people at the meeting is an avid photographer, so there was some technical and thematic discussion along those lines. We didn't discuss this at the meeting, but Gaysi is running a Queer Photo Contest: Queer Tasveer, looking for the best pictures of gaysi love. Click the link to check it out!
We talked about lesbian stereotypes - in India, the lesbian stereotype is in fact that she is invisible. Women are traditionally supposed not to have sex drives, and when they are traditionally represented as sexy they are either vamps or they're mother goddesses. If a woman's sexuality is placed at the feet of her man, how on earth is a woman supposed to have a sex drive, a libido, if there is no man there but simply another woman? The simple answer to "Who is the Indian dyke?" is "Whatever we want it to be!" because that stereotypical invisibility works to our advantage here.
Following on from the last point, we talked about being in the closet in straight spaces, and staying in the closet in queer spaces because sometimes other queer women, men, could not be trusted to respect that you might not be out in your professional and other social spheres. If we have the freedom to be whatever we want to be, we have the freedom to be utterly human, and therefore the freedom to be Not Nice as well.
Menopause: The Musical. Just take a look, yo.
Is Simi Garewal homophobic? In other new, Karan Johar is a bitch, and we like it.
Lesbian weddings! Savita and Beena, whose families declared yesterday that they were willing to reconcile with their lesbian daughters. “Savita's parents as well as mine have accepted our relationship and forgiven us. It was Savita's parents who had agreed initially. Now, my parents too have fallen in line after several media reports. However, my uncle Satbir Singh still has a problem with our marriage and has threatened to shoot both of us," Well, okay. I'm not sure they should leave their fifteen day protection. But okay. We spent some time yesterday wondering about the legality of the marriage, but really so long as it is not challenged in the courts - especially now that the marriage is acknowledged in a Gurgaon Sessions Court - it may not make much practical difference. We'll find out, I guess.
We talked about a few other lesbian weddings, specifically Baljit Kaur and Rajwant Kaur. The marriage was melodramatic and troubled - Rajwant left Baljit and Baljit slit her wrists in court. No. Really. The reporting style has changed a great deal in the four years between Baljit and Rajwant's marriage and Savita and Beena's.
Mangalsutras. The round ones, with little dots in the middle. They're breasts. No, don't argue, they are well-shaped boobies with perky nipples. The husband ties it around the wife's neck. He is giving her her sexuality. Okay? Which is tied into her feeding motherhood.
I found a new minion to write on this blog! We are pleased.

Then we left, acknowledging that the garage door was indeed an obstacle the defeat of which should be rewarded with cookies. We went to Matteo's, where there was nice coffee, and a yummy gossip session.

Calling out for queer-trans blog/collection!

2011-07-20T13:35:00.000+05:30

Hello Queeristas!

Hope it’s not going that well and you are also somewhere, like me, perpetually enraged and annoyed and bored with the kind of literature/websites/ (fuck-sites)/depiction of queer trans folks that is thrown around.

Over past few months, I have been reading a lot of international queer-trans, gender bending blogs and I somehow always feel a need for something like that in an Indian context. This of course comes along with a string of some enjoyable and often notorious Youtube videos of queer events from across the globe. The most interesting event I came across was “Girl Talk’ an event where cis-women (please Google this, its hard to start the argument here) and trans women come together on a common stage to discuss their fears, anxieties, seduction fantasies and the rant of queer politics. It is usually organized by the beautiful Julia Serano (don’t know her? She wrote an important book that introduced trans-feminism in a way. It’s called the Whipping Girl) and in case you remember my old (ooooolllddd..) post regarding radical feminist and trans-women divide (http://whaq.blogspot.com/2011/04/hating-trans-women-and-other-stories.html), such events really cool down the steam fuming from everywhere. Okay, I am distracted again on what I really wanted to say. So here it is.

I am hungry to come up with a beautiful, vocal collection of Indian queer-trans experiences. I don’t want to see American blogs declare that Indian trans genders are only hijras (Really NOT. Where do the struggle/happiness/concerns of an urban trans individual like me figure? Is it again a trap of categories?) And that there are no records of trans-genderqueer experience in India. This has to be confronted, with a Tamil butch’s knuckle fist and a smack of an androgynous –fatale, who cruises around Brigade Road. A trans man who sneaks around Delhi, gender defying femmes in bikinis in Gokarna, you have their pictures? Transitioning females, corporate post-ops. Your pictures. Our sex escapades. The constant fears and the voices that always OUT us.

I am calling out ALL of you to pour it out. This is not strictly limited to trans or gender queer identities only, if we do have gay and lesbian voices/experiences that are equally eschewed or you have being intimate with a trans individual, I want it too! or should I say, we all want it too.

I would love to start it out by putting up a blog and of course, I would need your suggestions on that. Eventually if we do have a good fat pump of queer voices…we can pursue this for a published anthology. These all discussions would become more fluid as we go ahead. Just like bodies feel suddenly softer in sex. So nibbling lips and dildos and estrogen shots have an urgent calling.

Get them out in your words. Mail me at afreenchaudhary1@gmail.com with whatever you have in mind regarding this.

Till then.
Happy days ahead.
Shamelessly yours.

Afreen.

WHaQ! meeting: 17th July 2011

2011-07-17T16:13:00.004+05:30

I begin this post with my usual demand for cookies: opening the garage door in high heels was a labour I'd normally delegate to Hercules. And then people came - we had a small meeting yesterday, no more than five women. But it was fun, and we went to Koshys after.

Quick bullet point list of what we talked about:

Us, and what we've been up to the past few weeks. A. is leaving Bangalore in a fortnight, which sucks. We need to party extra hard on the next few Thursdays, pack in as much fun as possible for her to remember!
We had a visitor from Mumbai: hi, visitor! It took her forever to find us, so at the next meeting and on the WHaQ! mailing list we're going to have to talk about making it easier for people to find us if they want to meet us.
July 2nd! Two years since the high court judgement. We weren't at the balloon-flying, or the movies, or the Sanghamitra July 2011 launch. BUT. Here is a link where you can download the Sanghamitra July 2011 edition. It's 50 pages, about 2.6 MB. It is pretty great, so read it!
Chai with Lakshmi: Urban Conversations - She seems neat.
Parties! We have not done any parties lately, what with one thing or the other, and the Pink Nation/Party Square events are mostly filled with guys. (Also, our visitor from Mumbai was very confused by how everything seemed to wind down by midnight.)
Queer Pride Keralam, Kolkata Rainbow Pride Festival and Chennai Rainbow Pride - pride events for the summer. Bangalore Pride is likely to be sometime in October/November, when it won't rain on us. (Delhi Pride too, but they can take care of themselves.)

That was pretty much it. See you guys Thursday!

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Gurl in the World has already blogged this, but please, take a look, pass it on: Children have been separated from their mother, kept captive in a foreign country. Their mum has legal custody, their dad kidnapped them anyway. Sign this petition, please? Help reunite a mother with her children.

"Writing our own history - Finally!"

2011-07-14T05:35:00.004+05:30


So this wound its way onto the WHaQ mailing list, and it seems like a good idea to pass it around as much as possible.

Hello Queer People!

A recent chat, actually let’s say a recent comment thread on Facebook
led Udayan Dhar and I to a realisation that we’re sure most of you
would agree with — something that should have happened by now, but
hasn’t! So we took it upon ourselves to get this idea into action and
here’s why you’ve received this mail.

It’s been a good, super-happy and challenging 2 years since the law
‘came out of the closet’. Yes, we’re legally gay and how! But what
seems to have been missed in all this celebration or the lack of it,
are the wonderful stories of people who were involved in or affected
by the movement — personal narrations of varied individuals who were
most actively involved or affected by the high court ruling that week.
From the high spirited celebrations of the multi-city pride, news
stories of which, still elicit a tear in anyone involved in the
struggle in the smallest of ways, to the country erupting in joy over
the final high court order — we hope to capture and re-live those
moments, those nail-biting hours and those euphoria filled festivals
from the mouths of the very people who made it happen.

We’re looking for 15-20 stories and 15-20 nominations of people who
you think should make it to the book... and then we shall contact
these people and get them to share their story.

As they say, “Only when it is written, will it be known to have
happened”, and hence, this is our very own, small yet much-required
step towards writing our own History.

Please send us nominations and broad areas in which you think your
nominees can represent that wonderful week.

For example: Someone who worked on the legal front could be nominated
to write his/her experience with a legal perspective — personal, yet
legal all the same.

Get in touch with either of us, before the 23rd of July.
Udayan Dhar — udayan@pink-pages.co.in
L Romal M Singh — elromal@gmail.com

Looking forward to hearing from you.

P.S. Please mail us all your nominees. Comments on the social network
service will not be accepted — only to avoid confusion.

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2011-06-29T16:59:00.000+05:30

Hellos lovebirds+queers+beautiful+mad!

It feels delightful to steal some bits from my new found office life and scrounge my little diary for poetryyy:) and yes! apologies for being so inconsistent with blog entries. I guess, i just have to deal with the fact that i can only post stuff on blogs when I honestly feel a need for it and most importantly, when there is INTERNET around me with a proper speed and not a slow mooing machine (like mine:(

I thought I would put some poetry here this time.

One of them is new, one of them is old, all of them are full of me. And a certain you. And that panting, breathless word.

So here are two, three hands of that desperate word. Let me hear you scream too. Its very easy.

GETTING TO SILENCE

Run your fingers to the only place they are destined to speak at……

(Mildly perfumed nipples.)

You only talk there, curl on the legs and make me whorl like a tweaked lily..

Take another gentle nip, splashing salted dew

And I do the job of being silent

(For a change).

THE ONE AND OTHER

When two people can sit jarringly silent in one room

And One, fiddles with the thought of storming out and Other, packs up a smile of a disdainful content.

One, picks up a queasy vomit of logic. And taste its horror. The Other, shits more and throws it like a little girl with her first game of ball. Throws with utter delight. Like a real man.

One, plays hard to mask all the terror. One, is perfect at pretense and One, glorifies this tacit nudity in the mirror every day. One has to understand the Other. But

The Other, walks out of the room leaving no scope for debates. Takes away the logic and the loathing. All acts that could connect this seamlessly vast ocean of relations.

One, continues to sit in the room with lips pursed and a generous consumption of cigarettes and a heart that plops out on the plate and scatters like a mutilated bloody lump. A delicacy One eats. A truth One lives.

And nothing will change it in the years to come. Maybe if only, One becomes the Other.

Or the Other finally finds the One.

A BETTER WORLD

Innocence of children should not be taken for granted nor should promises made by men.

Both can grow up to be vengeful bastards with gangrenous spite

That cannot fill up a room. Fingers, etched to purple ass holes.

Ensue punches, “our logic”, “truth is what you see hard” and other such smoldering infections. I wish their words could be turned into silicon, at least we could get use them to stuff. We will need a different nation for such creatures. Some distant piece of land.

Some might call it The Manland.

I say its Men’s toilet or better

Trash cans.

ONE NIGHT STAND

Sweet surprise.

Your chest was made of marijuana- sugar. Like tinkling little balls of flavor.

And it fell on me like a warm blanket with two marble nipples. One throbbing heartbeat and an oaring hand that swept across streets. Through all the muck. To just reach me.

You told me, you were not like other men and you will not hurt me. Because you came equipped with Vaseline and sturdy fingers. Raunchy boiled tongue, reeking of nicotine and a temporary love, I am very fond of when you slip yourself between and forget where you are. Your eyes closed. And an open mouth. Like Krishna did when Yashoda asked him…

And he showed the entire world swirling in his mouth.

But you craned your mouth down to pick up globules of sweat and trailing it around my waist. Dropped more Vaseline and a dizzying thrust.

That spirals up to pain and then eyes, (a tear) and

Hands, lifelessly haunting the creases of your shirt.

Minal Hajratwala at Swabhava

2011-06-27T00:55:00.002+05:30

photo credit Bob Hsiang

Minal Hajratwala is in Bangalore for a few weeks – we mostly know her as the editor for Queer Ink‘s forthcoming 2012 Queer Ink Anthology (also here). I cannot currently remember who took dreadful advantage of whom, but Vinay (the guy who runs-manages-GrandViziersSwabhava/Good As You ) spread the word and a bunch of us gathered to meet her today (actually, by the time this gets posted, yesterday) at the Swabhava office.

Hajratwala’s Leaving India: My Family’s Journey From Five Villages To Five Continents explores her family’s

Excerpts from *Leaving India*

multigenerational movement across the world, contextualising her self against this century of transplantation and settlement. It’s won at least four awards (one of them a Lammy!). Hajratwala is currently in India for research for her next novel and for her poetry – more on those later.

It rained quite spitefully on the latecomers today, but we began (mostly) on time. Hajratwala read out an excerpt from Leaving India, a section pertaining to herself and her early adulthood – Feminism, Queerness (“Feminism is the theory, lesbianism the practice.”) and the like. She’s not my favourite sort of reader – her tone remains too even – but she has a clear and soft voice. All in all, very pleasant.

Questions! Answers! :

Hajratwala spent eight years (instead of the projected two) researching and writing this book. Her extended, very close-knit family is spread out over nine countries. She has thirty-five first cousins, and knows all their names – an impressive feat in and of itself. The book, in some senses, is her way of understanding the sheer scale of diaspora and finding a place for herself within it.
Writing the novel changed her; it rebuilt her relationships with the family, allowed her time, conversation, communication with an older generation that would not necessarily spend time taking a young woman and her questions seriously. Diasporic narratives and histories have to encompass an extraordinary amount of movement: “It is the central trauma of our lives.” In some ways, it is the role of the queer family member, to have that displacement away and reconciliation back to the traditional family home – it gives the writer a dual, insider/outsider perspective.
The section in Leaving India which is about herself was written first, and partly as a response to the “naked honesty” she was getting from the people she talked to. She came out to her extended family on a case by case basis, and for the most part all is well. (She did remind us that it’s easier to be proud of a “famous lesbian” in the family rather than a boring old “regular lesbian”.)
Blogs! She likes blogs. (Who doesn’t?) They give you a personal space to write anything you choose, without an editor overseeing the process. You can control who sees your words and who doesn’t. It can be a space to have your private, intimate voice “connect to some bigger thing out there”. (She had contact with the damascusgaygirl hoaxer: See this and this.)
The Queer Ink Anthology! Queer Ink is going to be one of the first queer publishing houses in South Asia, and this anthology is going to give us stories that haven’t been heard before. About ten percent of the submissions were in vernacular languages. (Queer Ink is looking for people interested in editing, design, writing, the like. Contact them! Say you want in!)

After, there were cookies. After after, we went to Koshy’s. Life was good.

(originally posted at my reading blog)

A shout-out to queer writers -

2011-06-21T17:58:00.005+05:30

I'm supposed to be blogging about babies, but all I've got so far is "I don't want 'em," which is not as verbose as I would like. Here is baby clipart, which as almost as good as a post about babies and the people who do want 'em:

Innit precious.

Anyway, while I was procrastinating instead of talking/writing/thinking about babies (I don't want 'em!) I found this on my email and Facebook both, somehow ignored until Not Working led me to it. It is, in essence, a call for submissions for an (so far unnamed) anthology of Queer Erotica by South Asian writers. Tranquebar Press (the same people who published The Electric Feather last year) will publish the collection sometime in 2012. I'm copy/pasting the text here:

Call for submissions: Anthology Of South Asian Queer Erotica [title forthcoming]

To be published by Tranquebar Press in 2012

The spaces for expressing queer concerns have increased across South Asia in the last decade. Much is being written about sexuality, rights and queer lives. Yet, in all of this, sex itself doesn't get written about very much and there is a dearth of queer erotica from South Asia. Contemporary queer erotica with a South Asian focus would make these queer lives apparent in newer and compelling ways. This anthology is an attempt to present queer, sexual, regional literature that pleasures and satisfies. It is about queer sex lives, erotic experiences and passions. Queer in this anthology represents non-normative genders, sexualities, lives and perspectives. It aims to bring out voices that have been limited to smaller groups or never heard before.

What we want:
We want stories of queer love, lust and craving. Sex, however you may define it, should be a big part of the story. We want gender play, auto-eroticism, dark fantasies, monogamous and non-monogamous sex, stories of bondage, domination, sadism and masochism. We are looking for stories of deep passions, stories that complicate sex. We want stories of desire, fulfilled and unfulfilled. Stories that defy the gender binary. Stories of how you sexed up your aids and appliances. Stories on masturbation or the pleasures of paid sex. Stories of how you steamed up a bus ride, ended a clandestine affair or fucked with sex toys. Share with us stories that confront, redefine, dispute and reclaim what sex is. Let your stories queer erotica itself.

We invite you to write short stories with South Asian themes, characters and places reflected in them. We are looking for a wide expression of experiences across age, region, class, ability, gender and sexual identities. Stories can be fictional, semi-fictional and non-fiction, but we are not looking for academic or solely autobiographical writing on sexuality. Your stories will shatter the silences around queer erotic lives and encompass their diversities, so let us have them.

Who can write:
We want to foreground the queer voices of people living in or originally from South Asia. Queer includes but is not restricted to identities like lesbian, bisexual, gay, transgender, intersex, hijra, kothi, questioning, genderqueer, genderfluid and pansexual. Authors do not necessarily have to identify with one or more of these identities but the stories they submit should reflect non-normative genders, sexualities, lives and perspectives.

How to submit:
We are looking for short stories with a word limit of no less than 3000 words. We regret that we are unable to include poetry.

All submissions should be in English. Translations from other languages are allowed as long as the author owns the rights to the translation as well.

Please submit the story as an email attachment on a word document. Please include a title and word count.

Do not include your name or any other identifiers in the word document. As we are using a blind submissions process, we will have to reject submissions that indicate the author’s identity in the body of the story.

Authors will be informed whether their work is selected by mid-October. At that time, we will request you to provide a name under which you wish to be published and a short bio.

All selected authors will receive a one-time payment. The copyright of the story will remain with the author.

The deadline for submission is 15th September 2011.

Send your stories to queerotic.stories@gmail.com

Now get writing about the kind of sex you have wanted to read about. And get us swooning!

About the editors:
Meenu is a queer feminist activist. She has been involved with issues of gender and sexuality through women’s rights organisations and autonomous collectives for the last six years. She lives in Delhi and is an avid reader of erotica.

Shruti is currently based in Bombay. In the last eight years, she has actively engaged with the women’s and queer movements in the country. Over the years, she has worked as a researcher, social worker and counsellor.

Pass the word around!

WHaQ! meeting, June 5th 2011

2011-06-07T18:36:00.005+05:30

This was a meeting we'd been waiting for for ages and ages and ages. Diana had showed us the trailer for Deliver Me back in December, so we've been waiting to see the real thing like hungry hippos for six whole months.

Deliver Me is a great first effort, thematically coherent, and thought-provoking in unexpected ways. I'm not going to spoil the movie for those of us who haven't seen it, but I think that even if you don't agree with the movie's central conceit the characters and their principles are going to stay with you well after the end.

There were one or two new faces on Sunday, and Diana had brought some of her cast and the cinematographer along, so there was some discussion about technicalities - and a lot of discussion of the difficulties of making the movie on a limited budget as a non-professional crew.

This took up nearly two hours, after which we mostly broke up to head for FOOD and DRINKS -

- but not before we made a fairly important socialisation change. WHaQ! members have been meeting fairly regularly in Tavern on Wednesday nights, but lately - for many, many reasons, some of us have been thinking that it's not a nice a place as it used to be. SO we're shifting venues. Those of us who want to just hang out, chill, and talk outside of the formalities of the meetings are invited to our new Thursday hang out - if you weren't at the meeting, and aren't on the mailing lists, send an email to whaqbangalore@gmail.com to ask for details. The new place sounds awesome. (This also means that anyone who goes to the Good As You meetings on Thursdays can head straight from Swabhava to drinks with the rest of the gals instead of heading home or going to Koshys - which is a nice place, don't get me wrong, but it's excellent to have so many things to do!)

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Gurl in the World has already blogged this, but please, take a look, pass it on: help a mother reunite with her children, who've been kept hostage from her for the past year.

WHaQ! meeting, May 22nd 2011

2011-05-22T22:00:00.004+05:30

No cookies required today: got there early, got some work done, panicked when no one was there on the dot at 4, unpanicked when Gurl in the World showed up with beloved a few minutes later. Smallish meeting, 8 people.

S. is contemplating sex education, sex education re: method, contraception, orientation, predators, awareness. Specifically: school children. S. is contemplating, hazily, being an educator in this line - and if you're interested in helping out, leave a message here or on the group email.
One of us is leaving in a few weeks. This sucks.
This. Children have been separated from their mother, kept captive in a foreign country. Their mum has legal custody, their dad kidnapped them anyway. If you are American, sign this, petition, please? If you are not American, pass it on to someone who is?
M. brought a dozen books to the office. LADY BOOKS. Or mostly lady books. We left them in an untidy pile on V.'s desk so he could arrange them to perfection on the shelves.
More of us, those o us who're comfortable meeting random strangers/men, should come to the Good As You meetings on Thursdays. The meetings are fun sometimes. Also, we should ask if the boys want to play cricket.
I was taking notes while simultaneously writing, so I have "lesbian demographics" just randomly jotted down in the minutes. I think we were comparing lesbian numbers in China versus India. Statistically speaking, in a decade or so India should have more people, and perhaps therefore more lesbians, than China. (India is composed of people who know how to have sex, and people who think they'll get pregnant if they're kissed, by the way. Our population craziness is not caused by a uniform rite of orgy all across the country.)
Several of us have been shopping lately. Shoes and saris. Saris are pretty, and awesome, and often expensive.
Queer Ink. "We, at Queer-Ink seek to disempower those who look at others with derision or suspicion or ignorance. We do it not by shutting ourselves out but by embracing the world and all its treasures. We do it through the retailing of books, or the publishing of new works, or even setting up our special Qi Community. " Go there if you want to read. Go there if you want to write. Just, go.
Indu Anthony's Beauty in the Blur project. (And this.)

At some point, we broke up, with most of us heading to Koshy's. Brandy! Coffee! Tea! Lassi! Food! Loads of people we knew were there, which is why we get to feel snobby about Koshy's. Or something.

Three rings (stop me if you've heard this one)

2011-05-20T15:07:00.007+05:30

I've been thinking about marriage a lot lately - not for myself, but as a concept, an institution. For the purposes of this post, I'm not talking about two people (or more!) deciding to spend their lives together, I'm talking about two people (or more? usually just two at a time, though) deciding to spend their lives together and telling the government about it. For the purposes of this post, we're talking about a union of which some government, somewhere, has a record.

Since I'm not a romantic, or at least I'm not unspoiled idealist - the first bitch who comes along and reminds me that I'm a cynic I'mma cut - I have trouble as it is understanding a long-term commitment. The faith, the optimism, the promise - it's all a bit intense for me. I like the idea, don't get me wrong. If you are in a long-term relationship of the romantic kind that you intend to be in till death do you 'part, then yay for you. (I suppose.) I can say, well, I hope this works out.

I understand the above as a universal process - anyone who is capable of forming deep emotional bonds is hypothetically capable of finding someone or some people s/he wants and decides to bring into their circle of "me".

I get confused at the point where the commitment gets formalised in some way. (For the purposes of this, and every post, I am a Stupid Hermit Who Does Not Get People. Don't ask me why I'm asking the dumb questions. I'm dumb.) When two people who want to spend their lives together go to a priest, arranger, ordainer of some sort in order to make vows/promises/be wedded together - with witnesses, sometimes many, many, many witnesses, I am bewildered by the necessary, inevitable spectacle. The process is simultaneous show, celebration, and validation-from-spiritual/other authority; there's a part of me that says, your lives together don't in and of themselves need that.

Yes yes, it's a social institution, and traditionally, alliance-wise or romance-wise, there're social pressures, and sometimes pleasures, to the pubic spectacle. The ceremonies act as a public, communal, community milestone. I don't get it, emotionally, but I can talk my way through it.

I'm not confused by this social ritual because it's not necessarily open to all people capable of informed consent - even if it's often open to people who do not give consent at all. I'm not wandering around going, why do heterosexuals do this when so many places have LGBTIQ people who can't? I'm a little bewildered why anyone would do it, period. This is because I lack empathy and religion, and decidedly do not want to go the horrors of a Hindu Brahmin wedding for myself.

For the people who want to live together forever and not have a social, religious, wedding but still want to live together forever as a unit, there's "marriage" as defined, allowed and rewarded by the state they live in. In India, while most states did not until recently require that marriages be registered, the various marriage laws did. [In case you didn't know, we have the Hindu Marriage Act (under which the Sikh, Buddhist and Jain marriages have been categorised, for reasons of bureaucratic laziness), Indian Christian Marriage Act, Parsi Marriage and Divorce Act, the Special Marriages Act (for inter-religious/caste unions), Muslim Personal Law. The Hindu Marriage Act does not require that the wedding be registered. Hooray for democracy.]

I am not going to argue that LGBTIQ people should be allowed to marry and have that marriage recognised by their governments. Okay? I do not need to, it is perfectly obvious and right. If anyone is allowed to marry - and make no mistake, government recognition is permission, validation and reward, just as societal celebration is - then anyone should be allowed to marry.

Nepal is currently redrafting their constitution - actually, it's nearly done by now, and by July, if the people vote in the majority for it, all people of adult age regardless of sex, gender, sexuality, religion, nationality, what have you, will be able to marry. Brazil passed its same-sex law just a few weeks ago. Various American states are arguing yay and nay, and I link you to this lovely moment from the Minnesotan debates on the subject - just that moment, since the final results were not happy.

So. In our perfect world where anyone capable of informed consent is allowed to marry - and I mean, specifically, in the sense where said union is registered with the government, is probably licensed, recorded somewhere, is legal... why do we want to marry?

Well...

It would be nice if everyone who is in a committed relationship is allowed to bloody visit their loved ones in the hospital. Or in prison. Or when they move to family-specific zones, which does happen in some nations still, I think.
Tax breaks! Insurance breaks! Inheritance breaks!
Regulated break-up! Division of your stuff by someone else so all you need to do is fight about it!
Nationalities and visas!
Specifically for those of us who have to fight for it - respect, recognition. (Which is why we're only sullenly accepting "civil unions" as a sort of "marriage" for the purposes of this post.) This means the government doesn't say, Ew, icky, and put us in jail, or separate us against our will.
Comment at will, I am out of ideas.

I am going to beat the dead donkey now: 2, 3 and indirectly, 4, are about property. 1 and 4 are about acceptance, and permission, and mobility. 5 is acceptance, recognition, permission. As a practical woman, I get that these are very good reasons to have your government accept that you are married, and recognise, permit you that right, with the obligations involved.

I just... really do not see how it is the government's business. I find it incredibly creepy that people submit something so important to a only hopefully benevolent, definitely, actually impersonal authority. This is not a "someone" who loves you. Or has a plan for you and humanity as a whole. This is... THE MAN. Shouldn't this be private - or at lest just between you and your god/s?

We grant our governments too much responsibility.

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Gurl in the World has already blogged this, but this is a reminder: sign here, if you're from the States. Help a family get back together.

sign, blog, repost, tweet.....pass the word on

2011-05-14T05:58:00.004+05:30

Please sign this. I'll ask someone more eloquent than me to blog on the reasons why and say only that.....

If they were your daughters, you'd do anything to get them back and those who helped you would secure your most loyal devotion.

They are MY daughters.

WHaQ! meeting, May 8th 2011

2011-05-11T14:24:00.004+05:30

I got there early, and opened the garage door all by myself while wearing a sari - look, I keep saying it, and it i still true: I deserve COOKIES. People trickled in on time, starting with N., who is new and came by on the off-chance that we would have a meeting today. Nice timing, us! We also had a few old familiars, people who've been missing, away, busy for a while, and it was nice to finally put a face to the often-dropped names.

I had just come from a wedding, so marriage was on my mind.

Brazil recently granted same-sex unions the same broad rights as non-same-sex marriages, the ruling was passed on the 5th of May, in Rio Grande do Sul. Brazil has recognised same-sex unions for a while now, and is largely, at least on paper, an LGBT-friendly nation. (Brazil also has a very high count of violence against LGBT people, so take this how you will.)
Minnesota, somewhere in the U.S. of A., is currently debating same-sex marriage laws, yay or nay, and I link you to this. It is awesome and speaks for itself. AWESOME. This is for those of us who are fighting against religious prohibitions (encoded in nominally secular law, which sucks big time) against our collective right to be married and recognised as married and granted the same privileges the state grants same-sex unions.

MOVIES. Our Beloved Leader has loads of lezzie movies, and we are agreed that we should watch 'em. (She is also going to share a few with Vinay, who runs movies every Saturday at Swabhava at 6 p.m., because he mostly has and shows BOY movies, not that there is anything wrong with BOY movies, only sometimes I want a woman or two in there. Just for variety.) So we're having a showing this Sunday, 15th of May, at the Swabhava office. 4 p.m.
Books. OBL has books, which we shall maneuverer, hopefully, into the Swabhava office. OBL and Vinay must do the negotiating for this, so it is really out of our hands.
Sunday was Mother's Day. HUGS to all the Mothers out there.
There was some discussion about South Korea (we had a visitor from South Korea who knew her stuff) - the scene (underground but existent), the bars, the culture. The Bangalore scene was judged slightly more open, while the Delhi scene was active but invisible, since Delhi is a horribly unsafe place for women to anything at al, much be less openly queer.
OBL leads us to this article in DNA: "My favourite part of being lesbian is the exhilerating sex". No need to explain this one, right?
The Chennai Pride march is going to happen sometime in June, most likely in the last weekend (the 26th). Maybe we WHaQ! members could go? As a group? It will be fun, even though it is Chennai. (Sorry, Chennai-ites.) More discussion on going later, possibly on the group mail.
Chitra (who gave me permission to name her on the blog, thanks, Chitra! :) ) is a bike racer with several wins under her belt (quotable quote: "Dude, I kicked your ass!"). She drove from Chennai to Bangalore - no, seriously. Dykes on Bikes chic. She intends to attempt the world record for travel within 24 hours on a bike - from Chennai to Tiruvanthapuram and back. That's over 1,700 km. Sometime by the end of this month. Good luck! :D

This didn't happen at the meeting, but I am including it in here:

Uganda is passing a ban on homosexuality - The "Kill the Gays" bill. It will make killing LGBT in Uganda a crime punishable by death. I'm not sure how helpful petitions are, but have a look at the All Out petition and sign it. Uganda is a pretty horrible place as it is to be LGBT as it is; no one needs this kind of shit.

And since this post was ultra delayed, as well as the posts I've promised you already, here is the Sorry Puppy again. I'm trying, and I'm sorry, it's just that my life and my health have been evil and down the last few weeks. I'm sort of back. More to come soon. :D

:( I've been a bad blogger.

2011-05-06T14:08:00.002+05:30

Life has been whirling me around a bit.

BUT! I do have posts in mind. The long-promised BQFF blog, should anyone still want to read about that, will be up on Monday, while tomorrow I have semi-rational musings on matrimony for your perusal.

Don't be mad: look at the puppy! How can you be mad when he looks so sad! etc.

Malaysian state sends boys to "sissy boot camps".

2011-04-30T14:27:00.002+05:30

No, really.

The Terangannu Education Department sent 66 carefully vetted boys to a government "reeducation camp". This is creepy even when you don't know what the camp is for. The boys were selected from schools all over Terangannu (by the school officials) for their "effeminate" qualities. They were sent to the four-day camp for training. On how to be more masculine. How to behave "in a proper manner".

Razali Daud, the department director, said that this was the first training camp of its kind - meaning, there will be more, please barf on your own shoes - and that as educators it's department's responsibility to ensure that the boys be retrained before they reach the point of "no return" and are irrevocably set on a course of "misunderstanding" (normal) people.

The retraining is aims specifically at minimising the number of people who will be homosexual or transgendered.

No, really. Read the article at the New Straits Times (Malaysia's oldest newspaper still in print, and their largest English-language daily):

We are not intervening with the process of nature as we are merely trying to guide these students to a proper path in life.

Must be a nice boot camp, to provide "mere guidance" alongside the "process of nature".

This action has received furious opposition within the country. The central Women, Family and Community Development Ministry has declared that the camps contravene the nation's 2001 Child Act, since they are harmful and against the best interest of the children.

The experience of being singled out on the basis of perceived characteristics is an extremely traumatising experience...

The Joint Action Group for gender equality is a coalition of various Malaysian groups, and they have also given clear statements condemning this selection and "retraining". This discrimination contravenes UNICEF's Convention on the Rights of the Child, which Malaysia ratified in 1995.

The act of identifying and singling out boys who behave effeminately is highly discriminatory, bordering on predatory...

So.

These boys are being forced to toe a line of "masculine" behaviour
They are now taught that the way they are is "wrong"
The boys who were not selected are taught that their peers and friends are "wrong"
Girls are shown, implicitly, that there are certain behaviours that are "theirs" alone.
Girls could be next. In fact, they almost definitely will be.
Boys and girls are told explicitly that transgenderism, transvestism, homosexuality and other forms of sexual and gender queerness are frowned upon by the government, and the government will take action to make sure that these facets of personality are indoctrinated out of them.
Gender boot camp.
The Malaysian education departments are so far ignoring all protests - even when some of those protests are from other arms of the government.

All Out - an organisation commited to global LGBT-assorted identity equality - it organising a petition. Malaysian Prime Minister Najib Razak will be at the next ASEAN Summit on the 6th of May. Sign this petition, which can then be presented to Razak as proof that these actions are not acceptable, at home or internationally.

There's less than a week to collect the required number of signatures, and I'm not sure if a PM who has ignored internal conflict over the treatment of national citizens will give a damn about international concerns unless those concerns are backed by hard, economic penalties.

Homosexuality is illegal in Malaysia. It's currently allowed in India (cross your fingers and pray for the Supreme Court battle to end sensibly!) but I still shudder. It doesn't seem like so alien a horror.

_______ and Violence. Far too much violence.

2011-04-27T02:00:00.009+05:30

I've been trying to respond to Afreen's post for a while now, and my thoughts get tangled up in that morass of fear-of-guilt, agreement, indignation and what-have-you. Then my life took a vacation without me, and I lay about at home not watching the news or being online or being in touch.

I came back today gung-ho to respond to Afreen, and saw, amongst other things, a Gaysi article that made my blood freeze. I want to go back to not paying attention to the news.

I followed links around until I found a more complete story: In a McDonald's restaurant in Baltimore, USA, Chrissy Lee Polis went to use the restroom. She was stopped by two other women. These two women attacked her, dragged her around on the floor, beat her, kicked her. Why? Polis is transgendered.

(There's a video here. It's terrible; I can't watch it all the way through. Be careful if you click to watch it.) An emplo

That's it. A woman got up to use the restrooms. Two other women beat the shit out of her because - er. Because they don't like to share? They're afraid they'll catch cooties? The McDonald's ladies' toilets should not come in contact with peepees that no long apply?

The attackers are 14 and 18 (Teonna Monae Brown) years old. They're being charged, possibly with a hate crime.

The employees at McDonald's stood around and watched. (And laughed.) Vernon Hackett - an employee again - caught the attack on hir mobile camera and put it on youtube. Someone was being dragged around on the floor, beaten and kicked, and he taped it and put it on the internet. (He was fired. McDonald's as an enterprise does not want to be evil.)

The video received widespread attention because of the racial dynamics of the attack...

In America, this attack gets extra attention because the attackers are black, and the victim is white. No, seriously. A woman is beaten and dragged around on the floor of a public eatery, the video is put up on the internet, and it attracts comment because it might have been racially motivated. While racial attacks are an atrocity, something is still very wrong with this picture.

They said, "That's a dude, that's a dude, and she's in the female bathroom... They spit in my face."

Of all the people in the place, only two people went to help Polis. The manager, and Vicky Thoms. Vicky Thoms is 55 years old. I don't like it when people talk about the manners and morals of the older generation. I am subscribed to the old-people-are-more-narrow-minded school of thought. The vicious beastlings punched Thoms in the face. I'm subscribed to the wrong goddamned school.

As someone who grew up female and is acknowledged as female, I was and am conditioned to be female too - I negotiate my Inner Self with my Outer Self and my Social Self and all in all I think I have a fair grip on the bits of me I call "female" or "woman" or "feminine" or "I can has babies (but don' wanna)". But as a person, as a socially acknowledged female human, as a feminist, I have dealt consciously and unconsciously all my life with being relegated to my body. And just my body. Weaker, shorter, softer, bloodier, and therefore finer, more delicate, more nervy, more emotional. Right? Right. And I have read, heard, watched people - women, men, people I couldn't pigeon-hole - say, We are more than our bodies. Or We are our bodies, and we shall claim them. I've seen feminists increase the chasm between the sexes, humanists say, I just want us all to get along, asexual people say, I'm not frigid, all my bits work, I just never want to have sex. It's icky.

But we get to say it. Within the bounds of informed consent, people/our prdecessors/we have worked for decades to ensure it!

In a "queer" world - in a place where we consciously, inevitably, break with heteronormativity, surely it should be easier for us to say, We're Not "Normal", And That Is SO ALL RIGHT. We're together in this. In a world where I get to say, my vagina is not the Men's room (sorry, men, I love you but the metaphor seems funny right now), it's the Ladies', where I can say, I'll love, fuck, make love to, anyone I choose, and you can complain all you like, but if your complaint is their genitalia I'ma gonna tell you to fuck the fuck off -

One assumes that some sorts of tolerance become easier with time.

I keep coming back to those girls. They're girls. Not even women. I don't think they need to be gentle loving souls or whatever feminine crap American girls in Baltimore get fed. I don't know the details of the concerns they face and negotiate every day as a racial minority in a large country. I'm certain that as girls, as women, they are trained - perhaps sensibly, perhaps not - to be wary of male abuse, attack, oppression, chauvinism. But surely, surely, as women, as women pleased to be women, as women who must be careful as well as strong, female as well as women, protective as well as defensive - sure, when someone comes along who says, In my heart, I want to be like you. I have this aspect of you. I am one of you. When that person comes along, whether we're gay, straight, queer, mundane, asexual, misanthropist, ornery, giving - when that person comes along, shouldn't the most natural response be a smile, a hug and a "you took your time getting here, but we've saved some cookies! Dig in before Roh finishes them all, she's a greedy pig."

We're so busy, sometimes, naming things, knowing things, learning things. We're taught where things go, what the physical world is made of. We learn to categorise, to include, to exclude. That's how two young girls, not even women yet, were able to say, "That is a MAN. He does NOT BELONG in the LADIES' toilet."

What would have helped stop this? If Chrissy Polis were black? Would she have been "allowed" the restroom in peace if her skin tone said, "I like sunlight!"? Would she have been categorically safe?

We're a very clever set of apes. So we'll get to the point where we remember what all the learning is for. Hopefully. What being human ought to be for.

HATING TRANS WOMEN AND OTHER STORIES

2011-04-18T16:40:00.001+05:30

Radical feminist separatists are becoming literary scum sores.

There is nothing “subversive” in its agenda any more, it’s all political maneuvering of the same misogynist/queer phobic language they claim to defy. There is nothing that anyone can do to even lessen the resentment that resonates in the trans community against some of the recent issues where the self indulgent “radical-feminist-separatists” (who militantly demand a total female only virtual/articulating space) have not only denounced trans women from the movement but have disparaged and cruelly misrepresented the sentiment of an entire community. Their blogs, which I will explore further in this post, lavishly indulge words like trannies, chicks with dicks and the most abhorrent- shemale, continuously to demean trans women and to reiterate the fact that they can never be “womyn” i.e. a woman-born-woman, another linguistic weapon to put transsexuals in a pit. They treat us (Trans identities) likes shit and tell us, that there is no place for you in your aspired sex.

Your sex- is the body you are born in and deal with it, NOTHING will change it. They are propounding theories of Trans women being female impersonators, caricatures of femininity and useless intrusions in the female space. How could our “feminist” sisters use a parlance which is clearly pornographically constructed and has been deployed to butcher transsexual women throughout the history? What I fail to comprehend is this bizarre resentment of the radicals against trans identities. There is nothing “feminist” about attacking and disdaining another woman just because her biological makeup tends to differ from a genetic woman and to specifically bully her biological “appendage” that she wishes to morph. I maybe a born male, my body may be working towards becoming female but my soul has always been one. Of a woman and I am extremely proud of it.
But in any case who has given these certain self-styled radicals the autonomy to define who a “woman” is?

I was extremely insulted, even though these mamas would then coo “Please, it is not a personal attack on anyone. It’s just an observation”. Yeah, right. Up yours.

But more than insult it’s the disappointment and the anger that such actions ensue. So, once again, Trans Women are being written out of the LGB(t) Community. So, once again, Trans Women are being written out of the Feminist Community. There is a reason Julia Serano termed her foundational trans-feminist text Whipping Girl. Because Trans Women are one of the favorite groups of people to mock, bully, demean, hate on and deride.
For instance, The Magazine Project for Lesbians defines itself as “an inclusive space for female-born lesbians only as we found it increasingly difficult to manage open discussions between female-born lesbians and Trans groups without inherent power dynamics and contention between the two. Although it would have been a progressive endeavor to unite the two groups, it is beyond our capacity at this point. We also welcome female-born bisexuals”. There has been a recent change in the submission policy of this Magazine project which will only consider submissions by women-born-women because they feel that the transsexual woman can only aspire to be a woman but never really be one. She can try as hard as she wants- she can keep working throughout her life to earn the money she wants for her surgery, she can look as womanly she wants but in the end she is just an imitation of a genetic woman. But still the “about us” of TMP sheepishly whispers, “we are feminist not radical feminists”. According to TMP and other such ventures, an individual is defined as female based on their chromosomal makeup?! It makes me laugh.

A laugh that suddenly turns yours ribs inside and makes you want to burn everything around. On the TMP website it clearly states “Who is an LGBT female? An LGBT female is a woman born with two X chromosomes in the cell nuclei who is adjectively lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgendered (including FTMs). Gender determined by chromosomes? REALLY? This is some straight-up biological essentialism. Biological determinism is exactly what creates oppression against women under the patriarchy. To make the assumption that “females” have an XX pattern is an incredibly reductionist and vehemently anti-intersex position to take on.

And wait, the vilification becomes darker now.

Another voice from the radical-feminist-separatist community opinionates that Trans women must not even be allowed in the female toilets. She feels that the female toilet is meant for females not for female identified individuals but trans men are sanctioned in this space. But, you stupid sexist radical- why will a Trans man wish to use a female toilet? HE does not identify himself with females and HE will use the gents’ toilets. Stop dictating your own terms and feeding the misogynist monster that actually oppresses us. And if there is any construction of any female only space then it will include Male to Female transsexuals who then maybe lesbians, straight or bisexuals and not Female to Male. Duh. Male space/forums are different.

STOP telling trans women that rape crisis centers are only meant for genetic women and not for anyone who does not have a visible, functioning vagina. Again an extremely insidious, essentialist understanding of gender and please for heaven’s sake (vagina’s sake?) a woman has been raped!
Do you wish a woman to reach rape crisis centre and orate her biological/sexual history or help her deal with violence inflicted on her? Will you throw a woman, ANY woman out when she has been RAPED?

The ideological environment nurtured through such “values” is neither pro-choice nor anti-oppressive. It is anti-choice and pro-oppression. If they really believed in diversity amongst women, then trans women would be one of the forms of diversity that they believed in and affirmed. Plus, a transsexual only identifies/becomes the sex he or she aspires and that does not define that individual’s sexuality. I am a transsexual woman and it’s not important for me to just like men. I could be bisexual. And recently, I discovered that I just maybe.

But that again rages the voyeurism. How does a trans-dyke do IT? So, once for all, it must be made clear. A pre-op trans-dyke will not take a woman to bed and then show her bulging erection and aspire it to be sucked. Or (wait I am reeling all the pornographic images which are a huge fetish for radical feminists and patriarchy to bully trans women) buck the woman down and fuck her. Ew. That REALLY never happens and if you want, you can fulfill you fantasies at Ladyboy.com and not in real life. Sorry. For any transsexual woman, our male organ never figures in the sexual act whether it’s with a man or a woman. If the other woman wishes me to penetrate her, I would never do it. Not even use a dildo. The act of penetration is gross and in some weird way, offensive (although if she wishes to use a dildo on me, I don’t think I would mind that). Sex is mysterious that way.

The feminist statement of TMP and the Dyke-osaur (the 1970’s Raymondism) blatantly contradicts its own diversity statement. Not all women, including lesbian, bi and trans women, are feminists. And some of them have very good reasons, rooted in anti-oppression social justice activism, for not identifying with that term.

I have so many friends in the lesbian-feminist community and I identify with their agenda. I feel comfortable in the feminist circle and so many of them are allies to trans individuals. When they ask what should be done, I will say such hatred and bigotry has to stop. Respect the real spirit of woman and not just the sight of a wet vagina.

Enough is enough.

Good As You meeting on 14th April 2011

2011-04-16T02:13:00.002+05:30

(Sometime I need to blog about BQFF, which happened way back in February. I will! I promise. Sunday?)

A quick run through of the meeting, which to me seemed sort of slow and tedious (sorry, other people who were there, I love you, but I was not feeling it that Thursday):

Three new people showed up! Three!
Two of them were women! Excuse me while I drool both as a dirty-minded woman and as someone who likes representation.
There were some old faces too, not naming any names. Hi!
Gaysi is looking for contributors! If you feel like you should be writing for that cool and lovely website, sharing your story or contributing in any other way, go here.
Jindal Law School was conducting an "empirical survey" of the LGBT community in Delhi, to collect data and file a petition in front of the Supreme Court "this Friday", which at the time of the article's posting would be the 15th of April, yesterday. Basically, the petition was to say that the High Court judgement in the Naz case has positively affected the lives of LGBT(IQ) people, and shouldn't we keep the things that make our lives better? I found this bewildering. Did they contact Gaysi too late? Were they canvassing the entire time and added Gaysi in as an afterthought? I'd forgotten that the target demographic was Delhi-based, and so was even more bewildered. Anyway, that way yesterday. I hope it worked for them.
R told me about this article: "As Good As It Can Get" by Vinay Chandran, it appeared in The Hindu on the 13th. It's about Bangalore as an LGBTIQ-friendly city, and not-so-friendly.

A. walked in about halfway through, bringing in some energy and Things To Do - he had the men filling out one of those old fashioned Adjustment inventories on behalf of some student in Calcutta, who is basically out to prove that people are people despite their sexuality. (But s/he only wanted men, which I find annoying and baffling and reprehensible, even.) Filling out the forms took a while, and figuring out what "Diphtheria" is took almost as long. (For future reference, it's some thing that includes diarrhoea, and that's all we knew about it.) [For accurate future reference, it's a respiratory illness.]

At some point, we all went to Koshy's. Yum!

WHaQ! meeting, April 10th 2011

2011-04-10T22:35:00.004+05:30

As the poor sod who has the keys to the Swabhava office, I got to MS Plaza at around 3:40 to open the place. M.S. Plaza has one of those rolling-up garage doors, and its lock is a little bitch. I jiggled the key around until something stuck - it took me five whole minutes, it was a pain, I deserve a cookie. Three of us walked in around 4 - nice timing, ladies! -and more showed up by 4:30.

Altogether told, 13 people attended today's meeting, included two guests, Visitors! From foreign shores! Making movies!

Two of us came armed with potential new members' email addresses - it's always great to be the person who is able to say, Yes, you should join WHaQ! and do the introducing both ways.
I begged for people to write for/contribute to/heap praise on this blog. The last because I am a sensitive flower. Also, tomorrow or the day after I will blog about BQFF 2011, and what that was like.
We've set the date, time, place and cover charge for the Lavender Nights Farmhouse style! party. (That's not its actual name, but this is more fun.) It's an all-night party, and those sturdy souls who feel up to it can play cricket the next day. We discussed music, food and blankets, and one of us is bringing a tent which apparently zips up.
There's a Queerlicious party happening on the 24th!
Details for both these parties to be linked from this blog as well as the usual sources.
Labels and stereotypes - the Indian lesbian, the American, Emirates, Thai lesbians. I'm still thinking about the "Moderate Lesbian" (last mentioned here) and intend to blog about her sometime this week. Possibly alongside her Moderate Bi/Pan-sexual and transgender sisters. The tomboy, the girly girl - how we get treated, what people assume of us (bitches and pushovers, respectively?). The lines between "butch" and "I don't care about appearances and so shall wander around not prettifying myself".
Movies. Lots of movies. Lesbian movies! Our founders have them, and are willing to share - next week they'll bring some, and we'll bring laptops, and give ourselves over to a little mindless entertainment. (On which note, those of us who watched The Kids Are Alright think it's got far too much straight sex, and very little, and very bad, dyke action. Way to not represent!)
S is trying to raise funds to help set up a small business for a transgender man who has had a lot of bad luck recently. Raising funds is a slow, tiresome business, but she has made some headway - Our Lovely Ruler has updates, which she will send out on the mailing list.
Some of us dissed Vinay's book shelves, since they do not hold enough women-targeted books. We can fix that, hopefully? Kind donations? Someone gave/sold OLR some women-targeted books back during BQFF, so there's potential there, at least. OLR and Vinay have plans!
There was some discussion on the Christian church, and religion in general. Particularly we were discussing C.J. Mahaney who weirds us out when we wear our Women Hats, and Fred Phelps, whom I am not linking to, who weirds us out when we wear our Queer Hats. (Also, they both weird us out when we war out Thinking Hats, but that is all the time, so not very informative.)
Our visitors-from-far-shores told us about the movie they intend to make, about certain sections of Indian society (not going to give away too much here since I'm not sure they'd want us to), and some of us had suggestions for people they should contact.

Then we all needed coffee. LOTS of coffee. So we locked up - that stupid garage door lock, I want to kick it, it obviously hates the world! - and went to Koshy's. Mmmmm.

Good As You meeting on 7th April 2011

2011-04-08T16:21:00.007+05:30

So Vinay and I were talking about yesterday's meeting - I was awake in the morning, which is a minor miracle - and he mentioned that two Slovenian writers were going to be there. I tend to keep my Thursday evenings booked for GAY meetings, and this time I sent you lazy lot (so many maybes, and only one actual show!) emails and texts and Facebook harassings to let you know that good stuff was happening.

Anyway. I got there a little early and so had time to red little samples of the writers' work - Vinay had pamphlets of Contemporary Slovenian Writers (for prose and poetry separately) lying around - I didn't read through much of the poetry, but I did devour the prose - names I now aim to keep track of include Maja Novak and Andrej Blatnik.

Suzana Tratnik was in there too, with two short stories titled "Animal Kingdom" and "Reckless Boy". Suzana Tratnik is our first Slovenian writer/translator/activist - if I remember right she has three novels published. She founded (co-founded? can't remember) one of the earliest activist social groups in Slovenia, back in the 80s or so. She's currently not officially a member of any groups, and organises the Slovenian queer film festival with Brane Mozetic and others. I liked her stories - in translation they had a spare, lucid style. Minimal, intense, framing the subject matter for view without banging on about it blatantly. Reminded me a bit of Raymond Carver.

Brane Mozetic was our poet - I leafed through Banalities, his latest collection, but couldn't really focus since I was also trying to pay attention to the conversation around me. His (translated) verse seemed, from my brief reading, to be fluid, even tender. I need to read/hear him again before I can be sure, though. Mozetic is one of the organisers of the Slovenian queer film festival and is the editor of a small press, whose name I never asked for because I am an idiot. Like Tratnik, Mozetic was an early member of activist groups in Slovenia and I do not currently remember if he is still actively a member of any of them.

(Obviously they're both active, just not... members.)

The meeting was a bit of give and take - Tratnik and Mozetic asked about our general out-ness and our lives, we asked about the Slovenian queer scene - Slovenia is bloody tiny! It is weird and wonderful both. (There was this hilarious moment when we had to admit that we weren't sure where precisely Slovenia was, which means I have to be nice to Americans from now on for evermore.)

A WHaQ member from We're Here and Beer - yeah, that one, we love you, A! had asked me to write on this blog about the Moderate Lesbian. As opposed to the extreme over the top lesbian we here about. I asked about this extreme lesbian, the stereotypical Indian lesbian, in the meeting, and over a discussion that ranged from porn to What-Is-The-Stereotypical-Indian-Lesbian, we established that there doesn't seem to be a desi stereotype, that there isn't an established "Authentic Indian Lesbian", that since we are people we cannot be authentic artifacts anyway, and many other things which I shall discuss in a longer post. I'm linking this over the WHaQ email, by the way. One of the nice things, I do want to note right here, about not having a pre-established desi stereotype is that it leaves us free to be as true to our various lesbian, bisexual, unlabelled, transgender, asexual selves as we choose. We're free, or at least we could be.

S. was there, and WHaQ members might remember her current funding efforts for two partners fallen on bad times - the Good As You collection for the meeting was made over to her as a collective contribution.

Then most of us went to Koshy's. I haven't mentioned this before, but one of our new members attended the meeting, and she came to Koshy's too; it was a nice chance for me to get to know her better. I'm glad you were there, B!

Today, at 6:30, Tratnik and Mozetic are reading from their latest work at 1 Shanthi road, and I am now signing off since I want to get there on time.

{Edited to add: I've placed the post on my personal blog, mostly because the reading was not ncessarily a queer-themed one. The readings were excellent, though, so if you don't mine my pimping myself out here: The Reading.}

And again: those of us who feel comfortable going to a new group, to meet strangers, should try Good As You meetings. Good As You is a safe zone like WHaQ, and I think there are loads of us who would like the atmosphere. Think about it?

I am a noisy impatient spider

2011-04-04T22:00:00.013+05:30

I'm one of those difficult people who can sort of behave themselves in society but are secretly and not-so-secretly introverted, morose and cynical. If I go out three days in a row, I take a day off from talking to people to recover. A friend of mine arranged to meet up with me tomorrow, and all I could think of to do was "hang out", go to Blossoms, or shop for necessities. Plus alcohol. I have NO idea what other people do for fun. (Well, I do, but a lot of it seems to involve extreme sport.)

I'm one of those people who need to be reminded that being alone can turn into being lonely, and that being alone has other, material disadvantages. You can't simultaneously live within society, dissociate from it AND mingle within it all at once. Or at least, I try but often overbalance - it's a crazy juggling act.

So coming out was a weird process. I was so wary of meeting new people - even people that I wanted to associate with - that I actively avoided WHAQ! women for a while, stalking them only on the mailing list. I forget now how I got suckered in to my first WHaQ! meeting, but it is very sad to know that I have someone else to blame for my new friendships, my new schedules, my new peers, my new enjoyments. Damn you, Some Who Made Me Socialise, how dare you make me do something that turned out to be good for me!

Anyway. I rebel against my newfound social life by being very doubtful about people in general and community-forming in particular. You must admit, on the surface it is a dubious process. Back when I was a teenager and didn't know what lesbians were, I'd've been bemused - utterly bemused - if my (default straight) friends got together and said, We're starting a support group for being (default) people who are attracted to other people!

So I tend to say, Am I "queer"? Should I tell people I'm "bisexual"? Am I proud? Aside from the fact that I like some of these people, why I am actively hanging out with them and calling them mine?

Some of these questions - not all - are so stupid I want t

o hide rather than ask them out loud. I don't think, however, that I dealt with the question of belonging, of community, until recently.

Not actually all that recent, to be honest. This is STALE, DULL, DEAD news by now, but back in February, a nominally decent news channel called TV9 did something pretty yukky. You probably know it already, but I'm rehashing it for you:

TV9 in Hyderabad put together a "sting" to tell the world that there are gay men in Hyderabad. They party. They date. They have sex. They have dating sites! (It's like they're normal people!)

The news item was called "Gay Culture Rampant in Hyderabad" [link to English translation], and was extremely homophobic, and worse yet, targeted specific men, displaying their names and pictures after entrapping them over recorded phone conversations. ("What do you like in bed?" Bitches, that sort of stuff is private!)

There were protests in Delhi, Mumbai, Bangalore, Hyderabad - other cities too, even if I didn't keep track of them. (Pink Nation and Party Square also threw a "No Panic" party, in defiance and affirmation.) AllOut sent TV9 CEO Ravi Prakash a petition telling him, in polite terms, to get his shit together and behave himself.

So, a month or so after the original item went viral, the News Broadcasting Standards Authority also told TV9 to get its shit together. Gaysi ran a fairly comprehensive article, so I'm not rehashing that.

Needless to say, we are all pretty pleased.

The thing is, until two or so days after my mom and I saw the apology (which Ma though

t was very gracelessly done, and it so was; the reader sounded shrill and sulky and flat) I didn't truly make the connections. I knew them intellectually, but in the middle of breakfast I straightened up from my I-hate-mornings slouch and thought: My friends in Bangalore go to parties. My male friends go to parties. My female friends go to parties. My friends use dating portals. Male friends, female. It's a regular part of our collective social life.

This wasn't "those poor sods in Hyderabad" with whom we have ties. This could

have been us. This WAS us.

(I tend not to go to parties, because I freak out at the thought of dancing with strangers/in the dark unless I am drunk. But that is a different story.)

No, I really am that stupid. I'd been wandering around for over a month wondering why the hell I cared beyond the requisite "those poor sods in Hyderabad", why I was expending so much energy caring what the hell happened to TV9. Why I found it so emotionally - as opposed to philosophically or academically or socially - important that TV9 get their shit together and fucking say they're sorry.

I'm not sure what would have happened if so many of us - LGBTIQ, what-have-you, straight allies (and otherwise decent people) had not said, online, in petitions, in slogans, in person, in protests - that this was not going to do. That this was atrocious. That we wouldn't stand for it. When so many of us have access to the media - as consumers, as sources, as producers - "our" issues have more weight than they would have if we all hide under the beds and shamefacedly went to parties where no one knew the others' names, if we were all strangers to each other.

It's strange to realise that no matter how anti-social I get, no matter how angry with people for just being people, no matter how leery I am of getting close, of caring - no matter how hard I try, as a functioning human being I have made these connections. T

hey go deeper than my beliefs and principles; they strengthen those beliefs and principles, they work against them.

It's very strange to realise that I am not an island. I'm not even part of an archipelago. I'm in the middle of my very own web, filaments of togetherness, principle, empathy, identification and liking stretching across the the otherwise yawning nastinesses of dislike, alienation and discomfort that makes up my inner self.

Dear you: Hello, I hope your day goes well.

Gays and Mahatmas Not Allowed (and women don't exist)

2011-03-31T01:27:00.013+05:30

There's been a lot of hoohaa about this book:

Joseph Lelyveld is a Pulitzer prize-winning journalist. To be precise, he won the Pulitzer in 1986 for Move Your Shadow: South Africa, Black and White, which Amazon USA tells me is an examination of South Africa's racial policies in a (very) critical light. Lelyveld was foreign correspondent for The New York Times, stationed at Johanesburg, at this point - and apartheid in South Africa continued till 1993.

Five minutes of Wikipedia and Google, ladies.

Those of us who've been indoctrinated in the Gandhian fairy tale - which removes much from the grittier, uglier, more human and courageous story - will remember that Mohandas Karamchand Gandhi went to South Africa in his early twenties. Any biography of the man will cover this period, and I daresay Lelyveld looked at this period with an especial interest, or at least a more educated interest, steeped as he had been in South African culture for however many years. (I'm going to throw in Nelson Mandela here, and suggest that South Africa is where Lelyveld access Gandhi for himself in the first place.)

Anyway. Lelyveld writes his book, publishes it, and the Daily Mail gets hold of it. Wikipedia describes The Daily Mail as a "middle market tabloid", which is code for "sensationalist stuff written mostly for entertainment value rather than information sharing or truth seeking".

As far as I can make out, it was The Daily Mail which first decided that Great Soul chronicled Gandhi's love affair with Hermann Kallenbach, his racism, and his lifelong bisexuality, though generally reports finger both the US and UK newspapers without naming any.

You should read the entire article, because it is interesting in a certain way, but here are some excerpts, included ere because they are BEAUTIFULLY funny:

At the age of 13 Gandhi had been married to 14-year-old Kasturbai Makhanji, but after four children together they split in 1908 so he could be with Kallenbach...

...Although it is not clear why, Gandhi wrote that vaseline and cotton wool were a ‘constant reminder’ of Kallenbach....

...As late as 1933 he wrote a letter telling of his unending desire and branding his ex-wife ‘the most venomous woman I have met’.

I'm being very mean to The Daily Mail here, and I would apologise if the image of the venomous Kasturba Gandhi, evil hag, ex-wife who for some reason still tagged along with the Mahatma, was not dancing around in my head.

In today's patchily enlightened world, it is a big deal with Mahatma Gandhi gets "branded" bisexual. The Maharashtra and Guajarat governments have banned the books*. Lelyveld is getting not-so-veiled death threats.

The book hasn't even been released in India yet!

So, with absolutely nothing to go on, it's hard for us to be sure if Gandhi did in fact have a torrid romance with Kallenbach. Gandhi did tend to write extraordinarily emotional, frighteningly frank letters. This man did not hide his vulnerabilities. (Though apparently he hid his male lover? Or didn't make a big deal about him, the only time Gandhi downplayed someone important to him?) He wrote of love, of connection, of yearning. During his lifetime people were throwing scandalised fits at this business of sleeping with naked young women - because he did it all where people could see, and discuss. He presented it as a philosophical principle of living. (Some people, I am sure, were throwing fits at the business of sleeping with naked young women and not having sex with them. Such a waste!) We're still having to read all about his sex life, alleged or otherwise, decades after his death. A mere letter of love is not enough of a tell-tale for an affair. So we shall put aside this issue and move on to actual questions of interest to us.

(This is an article that seems to summarise reviews rather than have anything of its own to say; it's much more informative than I expected it to be.)

Do we want Gandhi to have been bisexual? (If you hate the term/category, rephrase that as "Do you want Gandhi to have had homosexual/homoromantic relationships?") Do we, as LGBTIQ people, as a collective formulating our own icons and writings and histories and cultures (and integrating at will into mainstream society), want Gandhi the man on our team?

You know, he has never struck me as a very happy man. He inherited, adapted and refined a strong set of values from his parents and in general from his childhood environment, and seems to have been the sort of child who took badly to having to hide things, to not earning his parents' love and respect. Just look through the chapter headings of his autobiography, especially in the first two sections. This is not a man who is proud of his younger self, and I have always personally felt like those younger failings drove him farther than any positive ambitions for his Self did. He was shamed of his youthful sexual drives, he was ashamed of his lies, his thefts, his small betrayals of his father. (And of course, that last, horrible one.)

In a time when homosexual activity was a crime, was socially condemned, was considered wrong - the Manusmriti is not fond of it either, so we can't wave around Hindu accepting happiness - for Gandhi to have desired, wanted, loved men would have just one more thing for him to be ashamed. He'd have done a fairly decent job of hiding it, too - or at least, everyone around it would have done it for him. To be so dishonest - I can't see him being happy with that. I can see him being more ashamed, more disgusted. One more canker in his already abraded soul.

And really? Really? Gandhi was an amazing man, yes, and a strong personality, yes, but he was married (which for me complicates things) and celibate in the most tortuous way possible. He was a skinny man who kept starving himself. His fashion sense was non-existent and his glasses were dorky. He was always hanging around with other people, not having sex, discussing matters of "greater import". If you weren't his minion, you were both at loggerheads. He did a lot of walking, talking, arguing. He'd travel to England and not bring back any souvenirs.

If this man was bisexual, he didn't live as bisexual, he didn't express love physically and was so wrapped up in his own personal goals he had very little time for other people's. (Jinnah and Ambedkar had some very valid reasons for wanting a separate state, quotas, reservations, what have you.) People either bent to his way of life or they left.

I'm not running around screaming Gandhi is bad and anti-gay! Some of the flaws we point out now were part and parcel of the force, the natural charisma of the man. These have led to some very good things, some very beautiful things. And homosexuality was, in many ways of necessity, an invisible absence in colonial society, so the fact that I can't find him saying anything about homosexuality at all tells me he was just too busy to ferret out new things to take care of.

Mind you, I am so going to read that book.

[Edited to add clarity] SO TO VEER OFF ON A TANGENT:

In all this hoohaa about the desecration of Gandhi's memory, no one speaks about the women in his except as vehicles for his celibate-sexual antics. A (male) friend who read this post told me he thought that was perfectly valid. But it does make me wonder. If we recast a man as queer, we need to address the people around him, recast their relationships with him. Not much. There's no need for venom. But just a little. Don't we? [/edit to add clarity]

What woman do we know, which Indian historical figure, would create nearly as much controversy if someone did hir research and declared her gay? Or "really" a man? Are there any (female) historical figures we'd like on the team? (Many of my arguments re: Gandhi do not apply!) It seems like every second historic male is declared gay, repressed or a pervert these days. Represent, people, I want us wymmyns to have some love too!

(What did Kasturba do when Mohandas was apparently cavorting around with his paramour? Stay at home and feed the children?)

Why do we examine, so very closely, the sexual relationships of our historic men, while it seems like our women get, at most, called a "slut" and confined to boring extra-marital heteronormativity? Why do angry Hindus (male!) stop at "Sita is sitting on a monkey's tail and masturbating, and this makes me angry!" without going farther to "Sita's only contact at that point was with Raavana's demoness minions and THEY GOT IT ON and this makes me angry?"

I've run out of thoughts to think.

* This paragraph was edited to remove an egregious error.

Accepting Gina

2010-03-25T23:46:00.000+05:30

Came across this story, it's an interesting story and makes for a nice share.

ACCEPTING GINA
by Bernadette
This story is dedicated to Maria.

* * * * * *

Paul left me months ago.

Six long, lonely, dreary months of endless darkness and
gloom. The weeks of crying, the days of yearning for a
phone call, the nights of empty wine bottles and morn-
ing headaches were all behind me.

I was healthy now, ready for a chance at a new begin-
ning. Life was looking fresh again. The sun was
bright, the air was clean. I was finally whole without
him. I had loved him so deeply. It had been unnatural,
unsettling, and uncontrolled. Now I could find the
paper and pen before me through the fog. I could see
the vision and the words. I was writing again.

Looking back, I realized the bad times were barely
lingering, whereas the good times were painted like a
portrait in my mind. But a portrait painted by a clown,
not an artist. All that time, what did we talk about?
I remembered the drinking, the parties, his friends,
the football games. All of it was one big celebration.
We laughed, we had sex, and we laughed some more. I
could not single out one time we had a serious con-
versation other than an in-depth analysis of his team’s
fortunes on the field.

Paul left me the night my sister was tragically killed
in a car accident.

He couldn't handle the intensity, my emotions, and the
horror of it all. He was gone when I needed him the
most. My memories of that night are vague: a dinner
party at my parent’s house, the phone call, and guests
leaving quickly. Lying in the grass and vomiting. The
sounds of shattered glass. Shattered pieces of my
heart. Shattered pieces of my sister.

After six months of therapy, I was finally able to talk
about him, but not Gina. My therapist told me this was
my way of shutting down - something about misplaced
emotions, the loss of my baby sister, substitution, and
obsessing over a man that never really loved me.

But today, the sun was shining and I was doing this for
her, and for myself. I was joining a local poetry
critique group and writing again. Gina would be proud.

There were about sixteen people in the group, ten women
and six men. The group leader was an older woman named
Kira. Kira had fled the Communist regime of Soviet
Russia many years ago, and her poems had been published
many, many times. She was a kind, older woman with
sparkling gray eyes, and obviously had experienced life
to its fullest.

I took my seat next to a woman who looked about my own
age, perhaps a few years younger. It was hard not to
notice her because of her striking features: unruly
black hair, porcelain white skin, and big, green
luminous eyes.

Kira led the group in an icebreaker game. We took
turns introducing ourselves, which was fun and awkward
at the same time. Most of the people there were
insecure amateur poets, who were simply looking for
something to do with their spare time.

When it was "her" turn, she spoke with a bold confi-
dence and radiating energy I immediately envied.

"Hello, my name is Cassandra. I am here for a one-year
appointment because of my husband’s job. I am from
Tasmania."

Her accent revealed she was obviously not from this
country. But it was more than that. It was the way
she said it. She sounded so exotic, so mysterious. So
distant.

"I have written over twenty poems, mainly dealing with
passion, desire and courage -- in particular, sexual
courage," she continued. Sexual courage, I thought.
That’s a familiar concept.

"The poem I am working on currently is called, 'En-
twined.' It is about female bonding, intimacy and
friendship in today’s world. I am very proud of it
and I hope you like it as well. I look forward to
sharing it with all of you."

She sat down and looked right at me. I assumed it was
because I was next. But I couldn’t help but feel an
attraction, the feeling that she and I would become
very close friends. I needed a best friend about now.
Mine were both gone.

It was my turn. I didn’t like speaking in front of
even small crowds, and I was acutely aware that my
hands were trembling. I miraculously found my voice.

"Hi. My name is Jessica Preston. I am from here. I. . .
I . . . started writing poetry when I was seventeen.
Most of it is of course, unpublished, but I hope to
learn some things from being here." I quickly took my
seat. However, Kira was not done with me.

"Jus-ik-aa," she said in her Russian accent, "what is
your, ah, latest? Hum? Or perhaps a current project
you’d like to share with the others?"

"Well, I. . . I haven’t written anything in six months,
although I was published last year in The Poet’s Haven.
A small literary journal."

"That’s wonderful!" Cassandra blurted out. "What a
great magazine! Wow! I have never been published. What
was it called? The piece, I mean?"

"Oh, it was just a little piece called, 'Unconditional'
It is about, well, unconditional love," I stammered
and blushed. I sounded like an idiot.

"Splendid! Will you read it to the class?" Her face
was lit up like a Christmas tree.

"I don’t see why not. Sure, I guess I will." I felt
so self-conscious, though a part of me was eager to
share.

Kira cut in, reasserting her leadership status. "What
is your next piece?"

Cassandra eagerly looked at me, her eyes shining with
interest. I paused for what seemed like eternity. Then
I said it and sat down.

"Accepting Gina."

* * * * *

She made me forget the loss. Over the weeks, we be-
came the dearest of friends. Cassandra was married to
a successful financial consultant named Simon, who was
assigned to spend one year in the United States. She
had been suddenly uprooted from her country and found
herself here. Since her husband traveled frequently,
she was alone much of the time, just her and her poetry.
And now, she had me.

We began our relationship at the coffee shops, reading
and critiquing each other's work. Slowly, more per-
sonal topics began to emerge, such as relations with
the men in our lives. She loved her husband very deep-
ly - something else I admired and envied tremendously.

"Simon is such a wonderful husband," she once said. "He
allows me to do my own thing. We got married quite
young, too young I must say. But I am very, very
lucky."

I told her about Paul, but never Gina. I found myself
so relaxed, so open around Cassandra that I could talk
about anything, everything but my sister's untimely and
clouded death. I was too ashamed to reveal the details
of what really happened that night. Even to Cassandra.
Anything but the secret, the truth.

On the many nights Simon was out of town, we went to
dinner, had a few drinks, and talked for hours.
Cassandra grew to hate Paul and everything he stood
for.

"My dear little Jessica," Cassie would coo. "What an
absolute oaf of a man. My precious angel, you can do
so much better. If you ever come visit us, there are
a few sexy little devils I could introduce you to in
my country." The thought delighted me! Handsome, sexy
devils from a far away place who spoke and sounded as
exotic and mysterious as my Cassandra!

"Besides, was Paul ever really good in bed? Really?"
She smiled. I giggled. Cassie had such a cute, infec-
tious way of saying things. I tried to remember what
it was like. Sex with Paul had been a roller coaster.
Hurried, fumbling, hardly a word spoken in passion. It
was animal lust. I remember longing for sweet words
spoken in whispers, a gentle caress that would’ve made
the difference. I found myself telling Cassandra all
this. I had never told anyone. Why was I telling her?

"And," I giggled again, "He had a crooked penis." We
burst out laughing. I thought beer was going to come
through my nose.

"There was a crooked man and he had a crooked smile,
had a crooked penis and he walked a crooked mile!" she
began to sing. We laughed and laughed. She was holding
my hand under the table. It felt like high school all
over again.

* * * * *

I had a date! For the first time in eight months, I had
a date! I met Joshua one night, while out having cock-
tails with Cassandra. He was of Syrian descent, with a
smooth, olive complexion and long, dark hair worn in a
sleek ponytail. Joshua was a professional musician.
He taught classical guitar at the local university. A
Greek god. A male muse. For the first time since Paul,
I was attracted to another man.

Excitedly, I went to Casandra’s to get dressed. We
drank champagne and I borrowed her sexiest little black
dress. It was made of a clingy fabric that went so
well with our hourglass figures and ripe cleavage.
Cassie and I both shared these attributes, and although
she was a few inches taller than me, the dress fit per-
fectly. We arranged to have him pick me up at her
house. Since I met him in a bar, I was a little
cautious, but Cassandra didn't mind.

So I planned to spend the night there. She had given
me the key, even told me to invite him in and said to
feel free to use the guestroom as "I pleased."

Joshua arrived in all his exotic glory. We were both
flabbergasted. He was wearing dark pants and an
expensive crisp, white shirt with a charcoal tailored
jacket. I winked at her as I left, and she gestured
back. Simon was on a business trip and I hated to
leave her alone.

She would never have thought of coming along with us,
but nonetheless, I felt terrible about leaving her
behind.

The evening was exquisite. Joshua proved to be a
charming, cultured, artistic man. We had a romantic
dinner at a quaint Greek restaurant, dancing at a local
jazz club, and sipped on expresso afterwards until the
wee hours of the morning. Our conversation was very
natural. We talked about everything: fascinating
stories of his parent’s native homeland, Paul, his
ex-girlfriend, even our views on sex. Joshua was very
open about this topic and I realized he was a very
passionate person. It was starting to intrigue me more
and more. We went on and on, about everything but my
sister, of course. What would he think if he knew?

"So, Jessica, do you have any brothers or sisters?" he
asked politely, but sincerely interested.

"I have one sister, well had." I stopped. I still
wasn’t used to speaking in that tense.

"Had?" He look a bit confused, but not pushy.

"Well, she died in a car accident about six months
ago."

He never used the worn phrase "I am so sorry." He
simply took it matter-of-factly, as thought it was as
simple as, "She is a senior in high school."

"What was her name?"

"Gina."

"Ah, Gina. A pretty name. Any other siblings?"

His ease at accepting the topic was unexpected and a
welcome relief.

"No, just Gina. She was the only one."

"I am an only child," he casually added. It’s just me
and my uncle. My parents were killed in a terrorist
bombing while visiting friends in Beruit, Lebanon."

"Oh, Joshua, I am so sorry . . ." I caught myself. Now
I was doing it.

He never paused. "My uncle is an amazing man. He came
to this country shortly after I was born. He and his
wife, Alla, were taking care of me while my parents
were vacationing. I was ten. They raised me." I sat
speechless. Despite my loss of words, I felt bonded in
ways beyond my comprehension. Losing both your parents
at age ten. Joshua had offered details of his story
but never asked for mine.

He never mentioned Gina again.

At the door, he leaned forward to kiss me good night.
It was light, faint on the lips. His lips were warm,
as warm as the Mediterranean Sea.

"Thank you for a lovely evening," he said.

I must have snapped at that particular moment, because
I leaned forward and began to kiss him hard on his
full, inviting mouth. The fire in his eyes matched the
fire on my lips. He responded eagerly, and I could
feel the passion unleashing rapidly through his hot,
Mediterranean veins.

We kissed for what seemed like an hour. I was well
aware of the familiar longing, aching and desire I had
not experienced in a very long time. The well was no
longer dry.

As he lightly fondled my breasts through my dress, he
whispered something in a very low voice. I was gently
pinned against Cassie's front door. I knew I could’ve
easily moved if I’d wished. Before I could speak, he
abruptly pulled away. Had I offended him?

He took my hand and stared so deep into my eyes, I felt
he could see the secrets I tried so hard to bury within
me.

"What?" I whispered.

"I want you to know something, before this goes any
further. Let me preface this by saying that I am very
attracted to you, Jessica. I can see a future in this,
if you are willing and interested." I could hear my-
self swallowing.

"But in order to be completely honest with you, there
is something you need to know. We talked a lot about
sexual intimacy tonight and I was so comfortable with
you. You are truly sensuous. I desire you. But, I
have had some experiences that you may or may not be
comfortable with."

I knew what was coming. I felt in it my stomach. My
hands began to shake.

"I have had sex with a man. Several times, the same
man. It was for my girlfriend, a couple’s thing,
experimental."

"Are you gay?" I found myself blurting out a blunt,
rude and forthright question. My voice was like a
bullet.

"No, I am not a homosexual. I love women. I love men.
But I am not saying it will never happen again, I
enjoyed the experience. I take it you have a problem
with it."

Silence. I was flabbergasted. My Mr.Wonderful, Mr.
Right, was bi-sexual? He was so manly, so handsome, so
. . . how could this be? I felt something else too. My
guilt came flooding back. The half open door, watching
them in the soft glow of the night-light. Knowing what
was happening, feeling aroused. I knew what he was
going to ask.

"You’ve never been with a woman?"

"Yes, I mean, yes it does bother me, Joshua. And no,
I have never been with a woman."

My answer came more defensively than I expected. I
paused. "I am sorry."

"I am not ashamed of my experiences. If they repulse
you, then we must move on," he said. His big, gorgeous
brown, disappointed eyes stared deep into mine. I felt
angry, confused, and most of all -- guilty. I wanted to
explain it wasn’t him - or was it?

"Friends?" He offered his hand. A muscular, brown
hand that I would have loved to have touching the
inside of my thighs at that very moment, bringing me
to the destination I’d desired for so long.

"Friends." I managed to barely whisper.

I took his hand and squeezed it. Then he was gone.

* * * * *

I never intended to wake her.

She walked in on me unexpectedly. I was changing into
my satin nightgown. It had been a gift from Paul. For
some reason, I became aware that she had caught a
glimpse of my naked breasts. It gave me goose bumps.
She was so cool, so relaxed, so beautiful and so brave.
Cassandra.

She came and sat on the edge of the bed. Her short,
dark hair was a bit rumpled from sleep, yet still sleek
and shiny. Her complexion glowed without make-up, her
green eyes were alive as lightening on a hot, summer
night. I noticed how naturally feminine and lovely she
was in one of Simon’s old cotton shirts. Cassandra.
What a provocative, erotic name, I thought. Cassandra.

She was asking me in her endearing accent about Joshua,
the evening, the details. I couldn't concentrate any-
more. The zombie feeling was taking over. She finally
asked me if I was okay. She was strong. Courageous.
I was a coward.

At first, I told her about Joshua. But it wasn’t really
him I wanted to talk about. It was Gina. Joshua had
stirred up something deep with in me. Something he said
reminded me of Gina. My darling, baby sister whose
death - I was convinced - was my fault. The guilt was
overwhelming. I had to confess to someone.

I began to tell her the story, as tears flooded down my
face and into lap. She never flinched. She just sat
there and listened, stroked my hair and held me.

I told her about Joshua and what he had told me. How I
hated myself for being shocked at his bisexuality. I
wasn’t a bigot. But somehow what he told me brought it
all back. About Gina and Cindy. About me.

She held me close and whispered it was all right.

* * * * *

It was a stormy night. The Gulf Coast fog was as thick
as molasses. My parents were having a small, elite
dinner party at their home for several important
friends including Paul’s parents. Paul and I were
there, putting on our usual act, masquerading as "the
perfect couple," with our polite, witty, and charming
banter.

My younger sister, Gina, who was only seventeen, had
invited her best friend over to spend the night. Cindy
was a pretty, delicate girl. They were inseparable.

The party was dull, but Paul was in typical form with
a scotch in one hand, talking about the stock market
and sports, while impressing my parents and everyone
else as usual.

My father, who was a stern, conservative man, had gone
upstairs to check on the girls. They were in Gina’s
room watching television. Looking back, I'm not quite
sure why he went up there. Surely a good host would
not abandon his guests so abruptly. Perhaps he sus-
pected what I was certain of?

Suddenly, he came down the stairs and asked to speak to
my mother in private. His face was white as the color
of her fine linen. After a few moments, the yelling
began. My father’s protests rang out, loud and furious.
I heard my mother’s muffled crying. The guests were
hushed.

Then the back door slammed and I could hear the sound
of a car speeding down the street. After what seemed
like an eternity later, my mother and father descended
from the stairwell as though nothing had happened. My
father addressed the crowd in his most composed speak-
ing voice.

"I apologize to everyone present. My youngest daughter
needed a little discipline. Please excuse the fuss."

The party continued. Quietly, I slipped upstairs.
Both Gina and Cindy were gone. I figured my father had
punished her for something, and she and Cindy had fled
the house. What could have been so awful?

The hospital phoned about an hour later. The news was
surreal. Both Gina and Cindy had been killed when
their car spun off the highway and into a tree. The
guests left quickly. My mother became hysterical. My
father approached me, tears streaming down his face.
I had never seen him cry before.

"Did you know about this? Did you know your sister was
having sexual relations with her little friend?" The
shock of my father’s brutal words were too much to bear.

I had known, watched in silence. It aroused both my
curiosity and sexual desires. I never confronted Gina.
I never told anyone. I just didn't know what to think
or feel about them. Somehow they made me terrified
about my own sexuality. It made me run to a "man’s man"
like Paul, as if to reassure myself that I was normal.

I ran upstairs to Gina’s room. Surely she was still
there, perhaps just asleep in her bed? This was all a
terrible mistake! Her room looked the same as it
always did. Cotton candy pink walls, Winona Ryder
posters, pictures of her favorite rock bands, school
banners, cute little framed pictures of her and Cindy
holding hands and smiling. Teddy bears and lace pil-
lows, nothing unusual about it.

As I was leaving the room I noticed a small pair of
white lace panties lying on the floor. Cindy’s panties?

I was overcome with a feeling of entrapment, confusion,
and frenzied emotions. As my head swirled like a whirl-
wind, I ran down the stairs, tripped down two and
nearly fell. The pain unnoticed, I managed to throw
the heavy wooden front door wide open and run out into
the blinding rain.

I vomited in the azalea bushes as my guts tried to
expel the grief, the shame, and the guilt from my body.
Wrenching violent sobbing seized my body as I fell, a
limp heap onto the muddy ground. My legs were no
longer capable of holding me up.

After a few minutes I heard Paul’s voice. He hadn’t
left earlier with the other guests. I looked up at
him from my pathetic fetal position in the wet grass.
I wanted so badly for him to hold me, just hold me
until the pain went away, if it ever would. Instead
he spoke with an indifference that shot through my
veins like an icy needle.

"Look, I need to go. I am sorry about your sister."

"What?" I managed to speak. "Now? Paul, I need you.
Don’t leave me now, Paul. Please."

His eyes were cold, lifeless, and ashamed. His lips
curled as he said his final heartless words.

"You knew didn’t you? You knew your sister was gay. God
what a family! I suppose you will be tempted too. My
Dad always told me it was genetic. It’s bad enough if
your girl goes with another man. Imagine what it will
do to me if you end up with another woman. I’ll be the
laughing stock of the locker room."

I curled up even more, each word a blow to my heart. I
wept uncontrollably.

"I said I was sorry. But I cannot stay. Goodbye,
Jessica. Goodbye."

"Paul, please . . . please come back. Paul?"

* * * * *

Cassandra spoke gently, comfortingly. She understood
the guilt and fear. She understood my confusion.

"Sex is beautiful, Jessica. It gets ugly if tinged with
guilt. It is to be free and natural. Sexuality is a
preference. Like everything else. If it gives you plea-
sure and happiness, comfort and understanding -- then
you take it with your heart and body, just as you give
these things to your partner."

It had been a long time. I finally felt safe, secure,
and loved. I must have looked awful with swollen,
puffy eyes, tear-streaked face and dry, chapped lips.
I couldn’t help but notice that she was erect through
her thin, cotton shirt. I stared at her nipples. They
were a work of art. I was again jealous.

Most of all, I wanted them. In my mouth.

I'm not sure how it started exactly. I was crying, she
was stroking me, holding me. Then I felt her lips on
mine. They were soft, lush, like tiny pillows. She
tenderly kissed my check, my mouth, my neck. Friend-
ship had turned to driving fire -- a burning sexuality
neither of us could harness. Not tonight.

Somewhere in the recesses of my mind, I heard a little
voice begging me to stop. This was Cassandra. My best
friend. She’s a woman. Stop. Paul was right!

But I ignored that little voice and I gave in to my
desires, my fantasies. I knew this was natural. So what
if this happens? I liked men, but should that stop me
from liking this?

I knew all along, I had wanted her -- from that first
day in the poetry group. She began to lead, for which
I was grateful. Cassandra touched my breasts in only
the way a woman would know. Not like Joshua and not
like Paul. Her touch was tender, soft, and sensuous
-- and was as wonderfully exciting as anything I have
ever experienced before. Ever. Cassandra, the lovely
Cassandra.

There was something I could see in her eyes. She pos-
sessed a mysterious, burning hunger. Indistinguishable,
unnamed, deep within her, a persistent need calling out
to be heard.

Did she genuinely desire me? Did my eyes reflect my
wanting? Does she sense how I feel?

I realized I hadn’t had sex for more than six months.
This was more that sex. My pulse began to race. I
wanted to embrace her, to feel her body, to caress her
skin, to encircle her gently and passionately in my
arms. I gazed hungrily, longing to seize her and kiss
her fully on those red lips -- to explore her lips
with mine, to explore her mouth with my tongue.

Then she smiled. I knew it was right. I grinned back,
and she knew I was ready for her. She stood and un-
dressed before me while my eyes took her in. She was
so smooth and soft, so very much like me. Cassandra
reached over and carefully lifted my champagne colored
nightgown. She did it so delicately, as though it
were made of fine bone china. The satin gown I would
never wear again.

She sat next to me on the bed, and I touched her cheek.
Looking into her eyes, I kissed her nose, then her
chin. I moved down and kissed her breastbone. I felt
her shiver as I licked her stomach. As I moved down her
body, my kisses became more passionate, more willing.
I was no longer afraid.

I heard the rhythm of her breathing, soft and fast. I
pulled her close, and her arms surrounded me. We kissed
again, this time more feverishly than ever. Our mouths
were starved for each other. I felt her tongue in my
mouth, and I sucked it gently as I heard her groan.

Then Cassandra took one of my erect nipples into her
moist inviting mouth. I gasped at the sensation. Why
does this feel so good? Her lips were like home for
me, a warm, cozy abode. I wanted more. Cassandra’s
hands began to move up my legs, which I could feel
slowly parting as she teased me with her fingers.

I could not believe this was happening. I was making
love to a woman. And it was wonderful, so very
delicious. I found myself whimpering softly. She
seductively ran her warm hand between my legs to
experience my precious secretions. To see if I was
ready. I was. She lightly coaxed my legs wider apart,
and they fell open effortlessly.

Never in my wildest dreams had I imagined a woman going
down on me. Cassandra did so -- willingly, wantonly,
eagerly. Her tongue was more skillful than any man's
had ever been, she seemed more patient, more deter-
mined, more at ease. I could feel her breath lightly
on my blooming garden, now exposed to her, no secrets
held back. No more secrets.

I wanted her inside me, deep inside my body, my heart
and my soul. I wanted her to consume me. It was
different from the desire I felt for a man. Chills of
pleasure racked my body as her tongue found my pearl.
To my vast astonishment and delight, I reached my des-
tination rapidly.

After a while, my breathing calmed, and she gazed at
me and smiled again. I knew what to do, itwas her turn.
I wanted to know. I wanted to know what Gina knew.

I ran my hands up her soft, silky smooth thighs. She
eagerly spread her gorgeous milk white legs wide as I
explored the unknown. It took courage, but I found it.
Her special little spot, her secret treasure, her sex-
ual joy. Cassandra felt as soft as expensive velvet.
It was not frightening or foreign, merely an extension
of myself. She felt just like me.

I briefly thought of all those dreadfully empty nights
when I thought of Paul and touched myself. After my
climax, I always cried. I cried for Paul. Most of
all, I cried for Gina.

I caressed her with every ounce of passion, love and
tenderness I had within me. I caressed her for the
beautiful gift she had given me. I caressed her as
though it were my own. It was. I gently probed her
mouth with my tongue and Cassandra exploded in my hand.
The same tongue that read my work. The same hand that
produced my art. Cassandra in my hands and in my mouth
was a climatic chorus sung in poetry. Poetry in motion.

But most of all, I was at peace with myself.

I had accepted Gina.

* * * * *

It is April. The weather is cooler now, not as harsh.
The one-year anniversary of Gina’s death has come and
gone.

Cassandra and Simon are moving back home to Tasmania.
Drake and I have an open invitation to visit, one we
plan to take advantage of as soon as we get the money.
Drake is my new lover. He is a wonderful man who loves
me dearly and treats me with more respect than I ever
imagined. Most of all, Drake accepts Gina. No questions
ever asked. He loves her memory as much as I do. We
talk about her every day. We smile and laugh. Gina
would have liked him.

I heard through the grapevine that Paul is getting
married to his much younger secretary.

Cassandra and I kiss each other goodbye. We kiss light-
ly on the lips. Drake and Simon shake hands.

We have our secret. We both love our men with equal
intensity and we love each other. We are friends
forever. Poetry in motion.

* * * * *

"Accepting Gina"

by Jessica Marie Preston

My guardian angel watches over me
From the heavens,
My soul mate, my mentor, my guide.
I feel her presence
Surrounding me like a soft glow,
A misty haze,
She is my light.
I look in the mirror
I see her behind me,
Wings spread wide, ethereal.
I open my hands,
As she reaches for me.
Her touch, a rush
Of unconditional love, courage, acceptance.
I feel her through me
Consuming my soul
A loving force, a flame.
She is with me always,
I am in her hands.

And Today I Shall Celebrate

2010-03-14T02:27:00.000+05:30

And today I shall celebrate
Of love of longing of a reddish hue
Of my pulsating clit that throbs

When I know you

Hooted winks that rest on my curves
And returning to an empty floor
Of a parched mouth longing for rum
And of dismay because it is eight
And the streets are dark and the men are drunk

And you can’t be because you’re alone

And today I shall celebrate
Of smoke from my nostrils
And of tubes of the plastic coconut honey paste
That keeps these curls just as you know them

Tight wild and lost

And today I shall celebrate
Because this bottle is over
But my words are not
Nor the love the longing or the reddish hue

Of things that were old but now seem new

And today I shall celebrate
Because it has been long due.

The Wayward Cloud

Neha

Sharing Dealings

2010-01-14T23:14:00.001+05:30

Very recently a lot of my friends got to know about my (bi)sexuality. It's one thing that I'm quite open about it, I've never really made an effort to hide it, but I came out formally to my friends only a few months ago. I did believe that they would be more supportive of me, considering they've known me for about 4 years now, and they never came across as non-accepting in any form of conversation or interaction.

I came to know that they had made many sarcastic comments, and asked other friends of mine (girls) of I had been flirting with them, with a smug smile on their faces. This was absolutely unexpected, coming from the liberal background that we all did come from. It struck me at that point of time, that the loss I felt was in fact, absolutely nothing when it came to acceptance of homosexuality. There are so many more people on this planet who have to deal with so much more, ranging from expulsion from the workplace and disownment by the family to shock therapy and isolation. How would one deal with this? How do we explain us to the straight and so called liberal community?

So let's say that right now, the "normal" thing to be is heterosexual. Now imagine a society, a culture, where the "normal" thing to be is homosexual. How would we treat them? Would we be equally compassionate? I'm tempted to ask these "friends" of mine, why they never had issues with me when supposedly did not know. The second I said "I'm bisexual" in a game of truth and dare, the tables really spun around. If those are the ground on which people decide who is a friend and who isn't, I'd like to ask them if they actually know what a friend is. So is it worth explaining us to them, or should we just ignore them? Would that make us less approachable to them? Would that increase the distance between them and us?

And ironically, the song in the background goes;

"Release yourself - it's a big sky.
Reveal yourself, it's a big sky.
We love, we leave. We take, we give.
Release yourself - it's a big sky."

In Last Week's Group....Marriage!

2009-12-03T07:53:00.000+05:30

We talked alot about marriage: what it means, what it can be, what it should be, what it could be, where it's headed, and if it's for the Queer community.

Thoughts? Comments? Here's where to discuss it.

Human Rights Campaign

2009-12-03T07:49:00.000+05:30

Check it out here. They have the most up to date information for the LGBT community in the US, and information about current law etc.

New York just voted down same-sex marriage. Boo.

The Thailand Gurl Scene

2009-12-02T07:43:00.001+05:30

Hi Gurls,

As some of you know I'm getting ready to head back into the wide, wide, world again, this time to Thailand. It'll be my second trip there, and while it is a very gay friendly place, it's a very strange place for a gurl like me, who, in my mother's words for me since birth, "is the most agressively feminine creature she ever came across". Basically, I, like many of you, don't fit the nice butch/femme kinds of labels, being not quite femme, and not butch either.

Enter Thailand.

Well. It was a big lezzie culture shock for me. Big. There, you see, everyone is "this" or "that". You're either a "tom", their term for something past butch and closer to transgendered, or a "dee", their term for something like a 1950's pin up girl.

Just read for yourselves...

Susan Hawthorne: feminist, lesbian, activist, poet

2009-12-01T08:07:00.001+05:30

Some of us from WHaQ had the good fortune of attending Susan Hawthorne's lecture on biodiversity and feminism yesterday. It opened up alot of new ideas in my mind, I've been positively buzzing (and no, gurls, it wasn't just the beer I had) ever since, and spinning all kinds of web like thoughts around in my head ever since.

I want more out of life, gurls. More living, more enthusiasm, more action. It was really beautiful to see another woman, older and definitely wiser, who's gotten to have just that through her work and writings.

Check her out :)

Afterellen

2009-11-28T20:33:00.000+05:30

First, i'd like to bring this site to attention

http://www.afterellen.com/

its a must-see site, imho.

In relation to the most recent post, here's an article on music videos. Gay moments in music videos, to be specific.

And also, some of us were talking about 'gay' clothing. This is an article on movies and style - how one's sense of style is influenced by the characters you see.

2009-11-28T10:58:00.000+05:30

I loved this post from La Chola. Not the least because it brought back memories of sitting in high school Geography, watching Aerosmith's Crying and obtaining a giant girl crush on Alicia Silverstone.

Alicia in Aerosmith's Cryin'

So a LOT of friends had a real hard time reconciling the fact that I really dug the epitome of sexist nastiness: Hard rock/heavy metal bands. I mean, what could possibly get more misogynistic than “She’s my Cherry Pie” or “Girls Girls Girls”?

[...] the only place I could ever see women expressing sexuality at all was in the videos I was not supposed to be watching–the only place where even *imagining* making love to a woman was possible was at concerts where women “explored” their sexuality by showing their tits (because that’s what rock girls did.) more

I started thinking about all those spaces in the world that are not meant to empower women, but do so anyway. In high school, I never went around calling myself a feminist. I don't think I even spent a whole lot of time pondering gender at all. That came much later, and it caught fire like wild brush. But in high school, I was too busy finding space for my brown self in all that aggressive white. I was too busy answering questions like, "Why do women in your country get sold when they are married?" (They don't) or "Should I call you Native American?" (I am not Native American). "Isn't Indian offensive?" (Not when you are an actual Indian.)

And then this struck my heart.

Do I really care about “the movement” or do I care about the lonely and depressed queer girls out in the middle of Religious Town U.S.A? Lonely and depressed queer girls, forget the above paragraphs and pay special attention to the paragraph below. There are alternatives out there. There are spaces where your presence is not only honored but desperately needed.

Do I care about "the movement"? These past two years, I have tripped over "the movement" and gotten trampled on by its need, its voracious self-destruction. I find myself listening to those "lonely and depressed queer girls in the middle of..", wide-eyed, my palms tingling painfully. How did I get here? Being part of their stories, their lives, their movement. It's easy to want out. I have no answers to give. I only have questions. I have meaningless suppositions that make little difference to anyone's lived realities. When I do wrong, I wreck the world. When I do good, I move a pebble out of the way.

Something in my heart clenches every time I find these connections in the most random, most unexpected places. Despite all the many differences, there are threads that bind that we cannot see. It is gratifying to know.

Smell and Being Gay

2009-11-27T13:52:00.001+05:30

We brought this up in last week's group session and discussed it with lots of zeal and zest. I found a little article about the study, just now so I thought I'd share it. Interesting, no?

I've always said, it's the way women smell that makes me love them. Here's physiological proof!

Julia Serano

2009-11-26T12:49:00.000+05:30

Quote of the Day:

"Some women have a penis, some men don’t and the rest of the world is just going to have to get the fuck over it." — Julia Serano, Trans Activist (from clip below)

Very Cool.

The Word Shall Set You Free

2009-11-26T11:45:00.000+05:30

"Words are, of course, the most powerful drug used by mankind." Rudyard Kipling

Words, be it spoken or written, have the power to transform our world and the world of those who come in contact with it. Words are the most powerful weapon that we have. Some of us take pride in the fact that we know many languages. But, language is at its best only when used to inspire others to find the best in themselves.

All positive emotions like love, laughter, heroism, friendship, and every emotion we feel as human beings can be inspired by words. Negative emotions like fear, anger, and hatred can also be invoked by words.

One verse in the bible that has inspired me a lot is John 1.1, "In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God."

Actually what the apostle (John) meant to say was that all the verses in the Bible are from God and it should be obeyed without question. For a rationalist like me, the verse shows the power of words.

We all know that more blood has been shed in the name of religion than for any other cause. What provoked the bloodshed? The words in the religious books whose meaning was transferred wrongly or the words of the author taken as from God and believed and followed blindly.

So dear friends we have the most powerful weapon with us let us go forth and conquer the world.
Here is the link to my favourite song, Words from Boyzone

Black Womyn Conversations

2009-11-25T12:47:00.000+05:30

It is easy to disintegrate ourselves into the roles that we play to live our lives. Identities are something that we either grasp hold of or let go and float free from. Both apply. Both are valid.

We're Here and Queer

2009-11-25T08:35:00.000+05:30

This blog represents We're Here and Queer, a group primarily for women, founded in Bangalore, India in August 2009. Our group was a direct result and in a way, the response to, a research project on the distress of Queer Women in India done through Good As You and Swabhava.

What's followed is alot of fun, and lots of silliness. It's a very new group, and we are still small. But, we're growing.

And We're Here. And Queer.

You can write us for more information about our meeting times, and how to get in touch with us, should you be in the neighborhood. We are creating a safe haven of support and love for our Queer Sisterhood and we welcome any and all that would like to be a part of that nest.

Love and Light,

Gurl in the World