I thought immediately of a transgender friend of mine who suffered a major loss late last year. Her Nani, a close relative within the trans community, was stabbed to death in her own home. Her savings, amounting to a few lakhs, and jewellery, had been stolen. The police refused to investigate the case. She had been living with a man that she considered her partner, whom she cared for and gave much of her money to. My friend was certain that this man was involved in the murder. Finally, after a struggle on the part of local activists, the man was questioned. He accused her Nani of “sexually torturing” him. This “sexual torture”- whatever that means!- must have been so unbearable, my friend remarked sarcastically, that he had no choice but to murder her and take all her money! Despite all this evidence, in the minds of the police and the public, the heterosexual man was blameless and the murdered person was the villain.

Even after her demise, my friend’s Nani was suspected of having abetted her own murder. This incredible reversal was achieved by invoking the image of the deceptive, sly, oversexed transwoman, who turns cruel when refused. Transgender people endure horrific kinds of bodily violation everyday because of this image, and they are repeatedly held to blame for this same horrific suffering. This is the image that Shankar has exploited in this film, to the great enjoyment of the audience.

A few days ago, on January 17, 2015, Pravallika, a hijra sex worker in Hyderabad, was murdered [1]. The police refused to investigate the case. The murder was the culmination of a steadily rising tide of transphobic violence. Activists had repeatedly told police how hijra sex workers were pelted with large stones, thrashed on their heads with beer bottles, slit with sharp knives on their limbs, faces and genitalia, and robbed of their income and savings [2]. On Jan 20, the police finally decided to intervene, by interrogating Pravallika’s friend, another hijra sex worker. They confiscated her cell phone and locked her in the police station for 4-5 hours. They made her strip naked and manhandled her body, claiming to “check if she was really a transwoman”. She had not had a penectomy, but cited the recent NALSA judgment by the Supreme Court, asserting the right of a person to claim trans identity independent of surgical status [3]. The police did not stop manhandling her. She was eventually forced to admit that she was HIV positive and that she could not bear the cold for so long. Their only response to this was to cover their face and mouth when they came near her; they did not return her clothes. They have now accused the community of conspiring to kill Pravallika.

The same week, on January 22, a transgender sex worker was picked up for questioning regarding a murder case in Pulianthope police station, Chennai. Police suspended her by her legs from the ceiling and inserted a lathi into her post-operative genital opening. They left her hanging and bleeding for hours. The next day, they arrested someone else and let her go. She is currently receiving treatment at Stanley Medical College Hospital. Some activists associated with Nirangal are trying to file a human rights violation report against the police.

In 2008-2009 there were multiple cases in Chennai and Bangalore, accusing transgender women of “deceiving” innocent men. With minor variations, news reports claimed that transwomen lured these innocent heterosexual men into their dark lair, castrated them, and forced them into prostitution. Following these cases, the Bangalore police raided hundreds of hijras’ homes in the neighborhood of Dasarahalli, leaving many homeless and bereft of all their belongings. These raids have increasingly become a common occurrence, along with other kinds of violence on trans bodies, perpetrated by police, rowdies, family members, and the general public.

Some people still obstinately argue that these are “stereotypes” that don’t reside in real life. “I mean come on yaar, Bollywood stereotypes everyone! Look at “Chennai Express”!”. These people miss the fact that the image of the deceptive, cruel transgender woman is much more than a harmless stereotype. It is a construct of our criminal justice system, dating back to the 19th century.

In 2009, the Karnataka Government amended The Police Act to include a clause permitting “the registration and surveillance of all eunuchs reasonably suspected of kidnapping and emasculating young boys” [4]. The wording of the act borrows almost verbatim from The Criminal Tribes Act of 1871, a colonial-era legislation premised on the notion that certain communities “breed” criminal tendencies. The law holds that in the case of such “innately criminal” communities, suspicion of committing a crime, or of planning to commit a crime, is enough reason to detain an individual without trial for up to one year. In Tamil Nadu this lives on in the form of “The Goondas Act”, under which Section 377 was recently brought [5].

The “deceptive cruel transgender woman” is an image into which real police conduct real investigations that cost real money, for which real people are jailed and really killed, for which real newspaper reporters are sent to cover real cases that happen in real courts. Try laughingly telling the person suspended from the ceiling of Pulianthope police station, bleeding for hours: “Lighten up, yaar! It is just a stereotype! Over time, we will educate the police! For now, its just a movie!”

The suffering of transgender people has been extensively documented. There is ample evidence to show that it happens everyday, everyday, everyday [6]. Yet the transgender person emerges as the sick monster that is responsible for their own suffering. Something about the laughter in the theatre today seemed to indicate how this reversal happens. Witnessing and documenting trans suffering doesn’t provoke outrage: instead it becomes a kind of pornography, a fodder for deep and genuine enjoyment. When witnessed, for some it leaves no impact; they feel a sense of unruffled calm no matter how loud the noise. For others, it even provokes a real sense of pleasure: smiles, big belly laughs, thundering applause. The pain turns into a kind of tragicomedy, a lilting music.

References

[1] https://new2.orinam.net/statement-telangana-hijra-transgender-samiti-to-condemn-police-brutality/

[2] https://www.facebook.com/telanganahijratrans

[3] http://www.lawyerscollective.org/updates/supreme-court-recognises-the-right-to-determine-and-express-ones-gender-grants-legal-status-to-third-gender.html

[4] http://infochangeindia.org/agenda/access-to-justice/policing-hijras.html

[5] http://www.thehindu.com/opinion/editorial/goondas-act-preventive-detention-law-in-tamil-nadu-amendments-a-threat-to-personal-liberty/article6332457.ece

[6] http://www.pucl.org/Topics/Gender/2004/transgender.htm

More articles on “I” on Orinam and mainstream media

Smiley’s letter to Director Shankar: https://new2.orinam.net/ta/open-letter-to-director-shankar-i-ta/

News coverage of protests against “I”: http://www.thehindu.com/news/cities/chennai/transgenders-speak-out-at-second-protest-against-i/article6817247.ece

Sir,

I watched “I”.

I stand here in Tamil Nadu, where religious fundamentalist forces have ensured that a creative piece of work has been retracted and its author gone into exile, where – on grounds that it hurt religious sentiments – “The Da Vinci Code” was banned, and “Viswaroopam” was temporarily banned and went on to get a lot of publicity, becoming a high grosser.

I stand here today and look at your work. Everyone knows that a ‘Shankar film’ caters to the actor’s hunger for versatility in a role, the producer’s fetish for money, the mad worship of a rogue masquerading as a hero, or  the blatant misogyny underlying the blind craze among fans.

However, you would have known that most critics, barring a predictable few, have found the film disappointing. While they have ridiculed your script and your screenplay, it seems to be beyond them to criticise your ridiculing the ‘nine’* (trans) character in your movie. I am amazed at the wonders of freedom of expression exercised in the making of this particular work. You are, after all, the epic director! You are free to depict us, trans* people as sex freaks, sociopaths, second class citizens, or in any way you want to. I’m sure you would have liked it when one of them took a leaf out of your book and wrote, ‘there’s another villain, a “nine”thara.’

Beyond your magnificent ambition, ostentatious sets,  striking actors, and your grand budget, I would like to reach out to your large and imposing mind. If the appalling denigration of transwomen in “Shivaji” (when Vivek says ‘It has just come back from surgery,’ and our super star moves away, disgusted) was at one level, you have surpassed yourself by taking transphobia to a whole new level in “I”.

This insignificant little girl would like to speak a few words with you about this.

Just ten minutes into the film, Vikram, the epitome of on-screen machismo, stares at the villain and says ‘dei, potta’. I was not surprised. Other ‘pottai-s** like me and I are used to such slander on screen. When Vinoth, director of the socially-sensitive film “SathurangaVettai”, casually uses the word ‘pottai’ as an abuse, and critics ruling this part of the world support him, can we expect any less from you?

Shankar, how are we, the pottais of the world, any less dignified than your masculine ideal? Is that ideal bigger than our realization that our being is filled with femininity, and we yearn to live the truth of our gender? Is your ideal much bigger than the courage to be honest and leave the safety of our home, and the comfort of our families? Is your ideal nobler than us losing our basic rights as citizens, when we run away and become refugees, second-class citizens, in our own country? Is it more magnificent than the scorching pyre of starting life afresh as a woman, without economic or social support? Is it any grander than us bearing with fortitude, the violence of your masculine ideal on our bodies every day of our lives? Or, Shankar, do you simply think we do not feel at all? That we cannot realize our dignity is assaulted?

It’s fine that you wanted five villains. I understand your script required all of them to be from the film industry. But then, you wanted one villain among them to be plush and grand and at the same time comical. I am appalled that you chose to have a transwoman as that villain.

Your transwoman character is a stylist. Just so that you wanted it to be authentic you cast Ojas Rajani – Aishwarya Rai’s stylist in “Enthiran” (I wonder if she knew what she was doing; if you told her how transphobic her character is in the movie). Even while she is introduced as the top stylist by the ciswoman who plays the leading lady, why do the hero and the friend look down on this transwoman? You must know that there are numerous examples of transwomen who have risen to great heights, battling these very same struggles. Do you wish to make the statement that despite our rising to great heights, the fact that we are trans* is reason enough to look down on us? To denigrate us? When you see fans update their vocabulary to use the name of a popular film that strove to bring dignity to the transgender community (I am referring to the film “Kanchanaa” which, surprisingly, against its intention, has lent its title to be used by people to tease us these days), why would you start with that popular song sung by a travelling group of transwomen singer-dancers, “oororam puliyamaram”? Unfailing your ignoble intention, the audience erupted with laughter at this mean usage of the song. Would you have heard the wail of our mothers, who are, just like your “Muthalvan” Pugazh’s mother, in anguish?

Your leading man sees your leading lady only in posters and on the silver screen, falls in love with her – true and honest – and yet manages to not have any sexual desires at all. And your leading lady loves him in return, thanks to guilt and sympathy. When this is okay, how is it that the love of a transwoman is so worthless that it disgusts not just the leading man, but also the lady, and the friend, and the faraway ad filmmaker? This disgust is a tool you have employed to vilify the character in your script, isn’t it? When you wanted to show her as a rich transwoman, your camera lens showed her in a very beautiful light. Immediately after her love is brushed aside as being worthy of scorn, your camera shows her as a despicable person. Shankar, let me tell you, your camera does not just show a despicable Ojas, it shows a despicable you!

You know, right up to this scene I wanted to be civil and polite in expressing my angst. Just when you showed us that Ojas occupied Room No. 9, I lost it. You must know that I have been called ‘nine’ all my life in school. I was poked and pierced on all sides, torn apart, left alone and to nothing but tears, with this number. I still have this number now, thrown at me on the streets. I also have the arsenal of swear words I have picked up on the way, and I would not hesitate to throw back at you. But then, the critics of the world (special mention, Cable Shankar) will take it upon themselves to give me lessons in cultured conversation. I do not want that; so I will continue to be polite.

While the censor board made you place the disclaimer, ‘No animals were harmed during the making of this film’, it turned a blind eye to the blatant discrimination of sexual and gender minorities, and people with physical disabilities – granting you the freedom to hurt and offend these sections of the population. What is the use of questioning the faults in your work without condemning the kindness of the CBFC?

Let’s turn to your leading actor Vikram. He has risen to great heights after much effort and hard work, but he is no exception to this insensitivity – the film that gave him his big break, Bala’s “Sethu”, has him say ‘de, you are going to become an ajak one day, doing this’. His inspiration – the rationalist, modernist, liberal – Kamal Haasan has, after all, used ‘pottai’ with such recklessness, and has famously vilified transwomen and homosexuals in his film ‘Vettayaadu Vilayaadu’. This insensitivity is common to every actor here.

But still, if it will reach, I’d like to say one thing to you – and all actors, comedians and directors. The men of this world are not your only audience – those men who worship that abusive, insensitive, patriarchal, masculine ideal that denigrates people who are courageous enough to live the truth. Your work is also watched by those very same people you denigrate, alienate and laugh at. We have TVs in our homes. We watch your films. We laugh, we enjoy. We also feel. We can also rise in fury when our dignity is assaulted.

* Nine: “ombOdu”, a derogatory Tamil term for transgender and other gender-nonconforming people.

** poTTai: another derogatory Tamil word, loosely translated as “sissy” and used  against gender non-conforming and transgender people, but also used in some communities as a non-derogatory reference to girls and women.

See original letter in Tamil by Smiley here.