Perhaps some of you took a look at my undergraduate thesis website a while back (if not, go here: http://lisa.cs.duke.edu/~john/finalproject). In it, I discuss the uniqueness and problems of a community in India called “hijra.”. I never quite tire of talking about them, so I decided I would use them as the topic for this particular entry.
First, a bit of background on sexuality and gender in South Asia. As with many other things in the subcontinent, it’s a study in contradictions. From the land where we get the Kama Sutra (in which there are hijras!), we also get the culture of purdah (literally means “curtain,” but refers to strict gender segregation), ascetics, and the oft-cited anxiety over semen loss. I still haven’t wrapped my brain around that last one, but they say it still has consequences for certain South Asia-specific psychological disorders, so we’ll go with it for now. However, if we do want to make any sort of generalization, we can say that South Asia still falls on the conservative side of things when it comes to sex-related issues.
Enter the hijras. And what, you might ask, is a hijra? It’s actually a bit more difficult to answer than most people realize, but there are a few characteristics that are associated with this special group of people. I should preface all this by saying that, if you want the American equivalent, it would be male-to-female transgender. But this comparison belies fundamental cultural differences based on millennia of history. Hijras are, by and large, individuals who are born biologically male but who come to identify with the female gender, typically during late childhood and early adolescence. There are some hijras who are born intersexed (i.e. ambiguous genitalia), but these are far outnumbered by those biological males who experience what we would term “gender dysphoria.”
Hijras have, according to myth, been around since the dawn of time. They are mentioned in Ramayana, one of Hinduism’s beloved epics, as being blessed by the deity Rama. Other Hindu stories and literature are known to feature characters that undergo sex changes via magical curses – perhaps Arjuna in the Mahabharata is the best example of this. In short, gender-bending in South Asia has a history that blows “enlightened” gender discourse in the West completely out of the water. Indeed, it is due to this lengthy history that hijras, who traditionally dress as women and request to be addressed using feminine terms, perform badhai. The concept of badhai is a bit difficult to explain, but you can think of it as song-and-dance routines that bestow blessings on auspicious occasions. For example, hijras will often perform badhai at the birth of a male infant (sorry girls…better luck next time). During badhai performances, the hijras will grant fertility blessings to the infant, for hijras are thought to have the power to bless and curse others. This power is said to come from both asceticism and the castration operation that hijras frequently endure.
I could go on and on about hijra subculture, as well as the work I did with them in New Delhi, but that’s what the website I listed above is for. At this point, I’d like to pose a question that struck me long ago. How is it that I am not supposed to see a man and a woman kiss in a Bollywood film (this is still largely a no-no, for those of you that don’t know), but when I exit the theater I do see a group of transsexuals clapping and dancing for what is essentially good luck? Perhaps South Asians don’t see it this way. Perhaps I wonder this because we in the West have a particularly nasty history with sexual and gender minorities, but are okay with the fact that “sex sells.” But I would have to qualify this relativist explanation by saying that hijras by no means enjoy widespread acceptance in India. At best, they’re tolerated. At worst, despised. People often pay them not for their singing and dancing, but just to get them to leave weddings and birth ceremonies. Many people consider them to be dangerous, disgusting (I hesitate to say “polluting” because that has religious connotations, but I think it would also be applicable here) – basically any negative adjective you would use for a group of people you dislike. Then there’s the fact that a large number of hijras are prostitutes for male clients, so it’s not like there’s no element of sexuality involved here. In the end, I feel that it’s less an issue of what South Asia does and does not “allow,” per se, but rather what has had a place in its history. For, even if most individuals in South Asia do hold a negative opinion of hijras, the fact remains that hijras have been in South Asia for thousands of years. Public kissing has decidedly not been (as far as I can tell).
But the real reason I chose to devote this entry to the hijras is because…well…I think they’re so fantastic! I come from a relatively laidback society where social norms are often malleable, if not ignored entirely. I consider myself to be a polite person (thank you, Southern culture), but I never really worry too much about if what I’m saying is taboo, not in line with “decorum,” or too informal. I mean, let’s face it, if it’s before 10am, I’ve been known to wear my pajamas to class. Somehow, I cannot see this flying at a university in South Asia. When I first arrived in India and began to meet the locals, I constantly had all these behavioral codes floating around in my head: “Nope, don’t hug your fellow Dukie from the States, because she’s a girl and you’re a guy!” “Definitely don’t bring up such and such a topic in front of an auntie!” “Saying you don’t want more food is no good – you’ll need to vocalize it at least three times before they slow down the kheer train!”
A lot of people find the things I just listed to be part of South Asia’s charm. I don’t. To be honest, I just find them really annoying (pardon the judgment). I’ll get into the things that I do find charming in a later entry, but my point in saying all this is that, with the hijras, the rules just really fly out the window. I could hug anyone I wanted, say pretty much anything I felt like, was listened to when I said I was full…Actually no, the hijras were just as bad at trying to stuff me full of sweets and chai. Although it seemed like harmless hospitality at the time, my scale back home ultimately disagreed. But, anyways, can you imagine the relief and freedom I felt?! It was like this great burden had been lifted, and I was no longer censoring myself. It’s a shame this was only the case because hijras are total outcasts in South Asia and, as such, aren’t really expected to follow certain mainstream social norms. Whatever. Give me a societal aberration any day.
I worry about them, though. I worry that progress isn’t always guaranteed with the passage of time. With the advent of LGBT rights in India and elsewhere, I’m hopeful that the community will become better integrated into society and not necessarily have to rely upon badhai, begging, and prostitution (khanjura) to earn a living. But I worry because I’m afraid that any significant push to really improve their lot will just be seen as some sort of neocolonial advocation of Westernized rights. In reality, the democratic and liberal principles set forth during the South Asian independence movement should have made certain social inequalities a thing of the past. Yet too often, we have seen the zealots of traditionalism claiming that granting groups like the hijras any semblance of humanity would constitute moral degradation and the perversion of South Asian culture. Apparently it’s okay to oppress someone as long as it’s tradition. To be perfectly honest, if South Asia has a tradition of anything, it’s flexibility and tolerance. The question is when it will be extended to sexuality and gender. The hijras are waiting, and they have a right to know.
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