The report states that the two young men consumed poison on March 2, unable to bear the taunts and harassment of peers who ridiculed their close friendship and ragged them based on this.  They were rushed to the Government Rajaji Hospital, Madurai, where one passed away four days ago, and one this morning.

While they are not alive to comment on the nature of their relationship, it seems clear that the ragging they faced was motivated by homophobia.

Three years ago, in 2016, the University Grants Commission published its 3rd Amendment of the Anti-Ragging Regulations. This amendment expressly prohibits ragging based on sexual orientation and gender identity (including transgender), among other factors. While most colleges and universities around the country display their anti-ragging regulations and even organise sessions on ragging during orientation for incoming batches, ignorance of this amendment –  and the vulnerability of gender-nonconforming, queer and trans students to ragging –  is pervasive (see Queerala’s study of colleges in Kerala).

Six months after the Navtej Singh Johar verdict, homophobia, lesbophobia and transphobia are alive and flourishing. They are reflected in statements by the police that same-gender relationships, though decriminalised, are against ‘our’ culture; in attempts by parents to separate their adult progeny who are in queer/trans relationships with their lovers and place them under house arrest (individuals in six such cases reached Orinam for support from Dec 2018 to February 2019); and in continuing violence faced by students in educational institutions, leading to hate crimes such as the Madurai suicides.

When will the prejudice and hate stop?

Notes:

• For crisis support and suicide hotline information, visit https://new2.orinam.net/resources-for/lgbt/crisis-support/
• For information on how educational institutions can be LGBTIQA+ inclusive, see https://new2.orinam.net/resources-for/educational-institutions/
• Thanks to Gokul for translation support.

Figuring out answers to such questions, living and working in a world that is often unfriendly and sometimes outright discriminatory, can mean a life lived in the shadows. For the Indian LGBTQIA+) community (Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Trans, Queer, Intersex, Asexual and other), in addition to the social and familial prejudices, the legal framework is oppressive, leaving little room to find safety and protection. Conflicts between one’s internal reality and the way the world is, can be a source of major distress [1]. We are aware of many instances of suicide and suicide attempts among community members that were prompted by such distress.

While support groups and queer-friendly counsellors do exist in India, particularly in the metros, there is a need for more support including channels of trained peer supporters in the community.

Peer Support may be defined as the help and support that people with lived experience of a minority group are able to give to one another [2]. It may be social, emotional or practical support but importantly this support is mutually offered and reciprocal, allowing peers to benefit from the support whether they are giving or receiving it. It is built on the premise of empathy and personal experience.

Peer support and professional mental health support can complement each other through two-way referrals [3]. Increasingly, LGBTIQA+ community groups are receiving referrals from psychiatrists and counseling psychologists who ask their clients to reach out to such groups to obtain peer support and reduce their sense of isolation.

With the goal of building a strong peer support system in mind, a group of organisations and collectives based in Bangalore and Chennai, including professional counsellors, peer supporters and diversity/inclusion professionals, have taken the following
steps:

1. Initiated 3-4 hour workshops  for LGBTIQA+ community members and allies to orient them on peer counselling principles: The workshops have been conducted in Bangalore (January 7, 2018) and Chennai (February 25, 2018) so far. Participation is capped at 20 per workshop, and is open to those with prior exposure to providing peer support, as well as those who would like to engage in the future. Workshops are multilingual and held in accessible venues. At present they are funded by community donations and a participant fee (sliding scale, including waiver, available).

2. Building a referral network of peer support individuals: A WhatsApp^TM group has been created with all the peer supporters who attend the workshop and agree to be part of the network, to ensure that there is an ongoing effort to reach out to people who could benefit from support. The group also intends to function as a safe space for people to exchange best practices around peer support and build their capability as peer supporters.

Organising entities include InnerSight, Diversity Dialogues, and Orinam. The Chennai workshop was co-organised with Nirangal and focused on the role of peer counselling within the larger crisis support framework. Reading materials created to help build understanding around peer support may be downloaded from https://test.orinam.net/wp-content/uploads/2018/03/Feb25_2018_LGBTIQA- Peer-
CounsellingHandouts.pdf

Note: These community-initiated workshops are not the first of their kind. To our knowledge, previous workshops of this nature have been organised in Chennai (2008, 2009), Kochi (2016) and Imphal (2017). The present set of workshops has been motivated by an increase in individuals seeking support, mobility of individuals especially among southern states – that calls for a referral network of peer counsellors (in addition to those involved in crisis intervention), and several reported instances of suicide and suicide attempts in the past year.

References

[1] Natarajan, Mahesh. 2017. Coming out vs Fitting in: Mental health and the LGBT person in India. White Swan Foundation. Online at
http://www.whiteswanfoundation.org/article/coming-out- vs-fitting- in-mental- health-and-the-lgbt-person-in-india/

[2] Mental Health Foundation. year unknown. Peer Support. Online at https://www.mentalhealth.org.uk/a-to-z/p/peer-support

[3] Pattojoshi, A., BB Pattanayak, and L. Ramakrishnan. 2017. LGBT Mental Health: The Way Forward.The Odisha Journal of Psychiatry 2017 issue: pp. 2-8. Online at http://odishajp.com/wp-content/uploads/2017/12/JOURNAL-BOOK-2ND-EDETION-NOVEMBER-2017-16-Version.pdf

We condole the demise of a member of the Chennai queer community on Sept 20, 2014,  a week short of his twentieth birthday. Although the cause of his decision to take his life was not known, we believe he was driven to do so by the collective apathy and hostility of the larger society that we live in, a society that  alternately denies our existence and  punishes those of us who do not conform to stifling norms around gender and sexuality.

We cannot help thinking – if only he had not chosen to end his life but reach out to the community, it is possible that he would have found support and courage to tide over the difficult period in his life. Or, had he indeed tried to reach out, and failed to find an empathetic ear? As we stand in condolence with his family and friends, we are also shocked at the fragility of life.

Let us remember we can always reach out before crisis strikes. Let us look out for signs in ourselves and in people close to us. Let us reach out ourselves or refer those in need to individuals and organisations for peer or professional counselling support.

And, as we mourn his unmade dreams and desires, let us resolve to root out harassment and hatred, for it crushes us.

At this moment, we also reiterate that taking one’s own life is not the answer. Life gets better only if we stand with each other, acknowledge and embrace our differences.

Join us at the remembrance gathering on Sep 28th, 5 PM – near Kannagi statue at Marina beach, Chennai.

You are not alone. We are here to listen to you! Reach out to us. Visit our crisis support page.

And remember, life gets better.

I loved my cousin brother Raghu*. I liked to think I was the one in the family he was closest to, the one he would confide in, seek advice from.

Well, not close enough, evidently.

One morning, three years ago, Raghu called me on the telephone. Without preliminaries, he announced to me that he loved men, not women, and hung up just as abruptly. This, just weeks after he had become father to a baby boy, and a year or so after his marriage.

Later that day, Raghu, all of 26, ended his life in the south Madras flat where he and his family lived.

I wish I could say I had suspected something like this was brewing when he made that call to me, the call that was to be our last conversation. I hadn’t.

Love and forgiveness. I wrestle with these each day. Through love, one can overlook others’ faults, however significant they may be. Through forgiveness, one seeks peace.

Raghu, I wish I could forgive you easily for ending your life, leaving your wife and infant son behind, casualties of the choices you made. Forgiving you remains a struggle, though I try. Questions race through my mind all the time. Why could you not have thought about your preferences beforehand, and avoided drawing her into your life? Did we, as a family, make it so difficult for you to admit your different orientation? Or, was it your desire to conform, to not hurt your parents, that drove you to consent for marriage in the first place? What of the hurt that engulfed everyone when you chose to depart?

Raghu, wherever you may be now, I still love you, my brother. Your difference did not matter to me then, nor does it now. I wish you happiness wherever you may be. And I continue to try to forgive.

To the readers of this note, I ask that you live and let live. If you have a sibling, child, friend or other loved one who has a different orientation, please do not let this difference come in the way of your love for them.

And if you are yourself differently oriented from the so-called mainstream sexuality, be strong in your convictions. Going against family expectations may cause some grief, but that is nothing compared to the devastation resulting from the choices that Raghu – and I fear there have been many like him through the ages – felt compelled to make.

*name changed

This piece is based on a note submitted by an Orinam reader, and is being posted on Sept 10, World Suicide Prevention Day. If you or someone you know is depressed or suicidal, please seek help. Some crisis support resources are here.

Orinam and the East West Center for Counselling present a discussion on suicide prevention in the LGBTI communities. Barry Taylor from the National LGBTI Health Alliance, Australia, will be sharing insights based on his 25 years of experience in the field.

Details are at

https://new2.orinam.net/event/4501/lgbti-suicide-prevention-a-discussion-with-barry-taylor/

A brilliant actor on and off the stage. He always would tell you what you wanted to hear. He convinced all of us that he was leaving to go to his sister’s house in Allappey. He convinced us by making calls to his sister in front of us telling her that, letting us all confirm what he had told us. Ramu planned everything in life. Even his death. He was one of the first transmen we knew who had begun his physical transition. The joy he felt on seeing the fuzz on his face form and voice deepen had us fooled into thinking he was moving towards life, not death.

A soulful singer, who had such a beautiful voice, the one thing that the rest of us worried about when he started his hormonal injections was that he would lose his singing voice when his voice dropped. And he was so sharp about things. He would’ve probably been the CEO of some big company if he had an MBA and wasn’t trans.

Born in a working class family in Thuravoor, Kerala, he lost his mother who committed suicide when he was two years old. His older sister, six years at the time, raised him and his younger brother, then, a six-month old baby. They would go to relatives’ houses asking to be fed because his father was never at home. I saw his sister at his house crying inconsolably asking him why he hadn’t asked her to join him when he decided to leave.

When he fell in love, he fell hard and loved with all his heart. He was loved dearly in return, to the point where people were willing to end their lives for him. But he was torn apart from his lovers, separated by families, by the cold forces of gender, money and a vindictive society. These took its toll on him, creating a gnawing despair that grew over time.

The day after he left us saying he was going home, we got a call from the Thrissur Railway Police saying they found his body. We are grieving despite knowing he wouldn’t have wanted us to. He would have wanted us to laugh through this all. But, we are not strong like Ramu. There are times when humour doesn’t work and despair engulfs us. This is one such time. We will never get over this loss. All he had was packed into a little plastic bag and handed over to us by the nurse at the mortuary. A pair of head phones, a platform ticket and 160 Rs: that’s all he left behind. That and the memories of time spent together laughing through all the hard times.

*name changed

We at Orinam grieve the loss of Deepu, a transman, who took his life on Thursday, July 26, 2012, in Kerala.

Deepu was part of the LesBiT theatre group that performed at Nirangal, ChennaiPride’s cultural festival, in 2010. Most recently, he was brought to the screen in Gee Ameena Suleiman’s film Kalvettukal (2012),  a moving docu-fiction on transmen in southern India that screened at Chennai’s Queer Film Festival in June this year.

A condolence meeting will be held in Chennai at 6:30 pm on Saturday Aug 4, 2012 at Spaces, Besant Nagar.

At the meeting,

• we will screen Kalvettukal in tribute to Deepu, and Charu from LesBiT Bangalore will  facilitate a discussion on the issues faced by transmen.
• we will raise funds to help defray some of Deepu’s funeral expenses, based on a request from his family for assistance.
• we also hope to generate a community dialogue on peer support for individuals coping with depression associated with living and loving in an LGBT-phobic society; and on resources available to our communities to prevent more such losses.

The event is being organized by Orinam together with Nirangal and The Shakti Resource Center. For more information on the event or to make a donation, please contact us. 

Click here to listen to an excerpt of the song Teri Diwani rendered by Deepu, that he had posted on his Facebook wall in June 2011.

People may remember this story from about a year and a half back. Tyler Clementi was a freshman student at Rutgers University in New Jersey who was sharing a room with another freshman Dharun Ravi. Ravi discovered that Clementi was gay, and when he requested use of their room to have sex with another guy, Ravi set up his webcam to capture them and tweeted about it like it was a joke. Clementi found out and committed suicide.

The story provoked huge sorrow and outrage at what people saw was misuse of techonology by uncaring and unfeeling young people to out someone closeted. As it happened the suicide happened just when Dan Savage was launching his It Gets Better video campaign aimed at persuading gay kids not to commit suicide, and the campaign got a huge boost from this.

Ian Parker from the New Yorker goes into the story to show that it was a bit more complex than it seemed, though no less tragic. Clementi wasn’t quite closeted, but he was socially awkward and shy, especially compared to the much more outgoing and confident Ravi. But Ravi wasn’t entirely the homophobic jock he was made out to be, though certainly rather stupidly unthinking and brash.

At the time there was also something of a racial subtext to the story since Ravi, and the friend he roped into this, were both fairly privileged Asian ‘model minority’ kids, while Clementi was from a not-as-well-off white family. Again here Parker shows that this was a simplification, though some class angle probably did play in: he shows that Ravi had a rather ugly prejudice against ‘poor’ people. Ravi, incidentally, has Indian citizenship, so one reason why he is refusing to accept a guilty plea bargain is probably because that would lead to deportation.

But overall what comes out of this story is how shockingly normal so much of it us, but also how normalcy can so easily spin out of control. You can easily identify with Clementi, the shy gay boy who struggled to make friends (though, interestingly, he seems to have been more sexually confident than Ravi).

But you can, if not exactly identify, you can see where someone like Ravi is coming from – confident, brash, self centred, but also young and with so much to learn. Can everyone here say unequivocally they were never in a position where they bullied someone a bit? I can remember I was and I’m not proud of it, but I grew out of it without, I hope, causing much harm. Ravi wasn’t so lucky.

All this really makes the story worth reading, and I’m curious what people feel about it. Where do your sympathies lie – obviously with Clementi, but is any due at all for Ravi? What sort of punishment would be fit? And what does the story say about the role technology now plays in our lives?

An earlier version of this post originally appeared on the LGBT India mailing list. It has been reproduced with consent of the author.