Hijra Politics in Pakistan

In a country that is ruled by a mixture of both Anglo-Saxon colonial law and Islamic Sharia law, the lives of queer Pakistani people are different than what we see here in the United States. Being a lesbian, gay, or bisexual person is considered a taboo vice in parts of Pakistani community and there are practically no gay rights. In fact, same-sex sexual acts are illegal and the Pakistani Penal Code of 1860 punishes sodomy with a possible prison sentence. However, in many south asian nations, there is a concept of third gender--neither male nor female. Most often referred to as Hijras, these individuals have a long history dating back to court eunuchs of the Mughal era. Due to their position in precolonial Desi society, they are somewhat accepted or tolerated in many south asian communities. 

In fact, in 2009 the Supreme Court recognized them as a third gender, and simultaneously ordered they be issued with separate identity cards. In a nation battling enormous human rights abuses and chronic violence, this was hailed as a landmark decision. So what's the catch? Pakistan is a country where sexual relations outside of marriage are considered taboo and same-sex relations are illegal. Trans* people are tokenized as sex objects, often becoming the victims of assault and end up as beggars. This vibrant community of trans* people are subsequently stereotyped as dancers, beggars, and prostitutes. 

A recent article titled as Pakistan's Transgender Poltical Candidates Stake Claim In National Vote, author Khurram Shahzad shares the story of Sanam Faqeer, an independent trans* candidate for Pakistan's upcoming general elections. Rather than staying shunned in the shadows of the community-at-large, trans* people, most notably Faqeer, are transcending boundaries and striking into politics. 

Faqeer's story begins as the son of a radical prayer leader, who kept all his children at home to be taught only the Koran. After her father died, her brothers kicked her out of their house, due to her girlish tendencies, and she was taken under the wing of a prominent member of the trans* community. It was after this moment in her life that Faqeer would be able to embrace her womanhood. According to the article, " She changed her name, grew out her hair, dressed permanently as a woman and spent the next decade dancing and working as a prostitute. She became popular and earned good money, but her ambitions spread wider." 

She invested in the textile business and began supplying bed sheets and ladies clothes door-to-door. She began to make new contacts in the city, which propelled her to branch into welfare. She provided care to elderly eunuchs and registered her own charity in 2009. 

Today, Faqeer's two-room apartment serves as a home, an institute offering transgender people computer training and therefore the prospect of more respectable work, the headquarters of her charity and as a campaign hub. According to the article, all the transgender candidates are running as independents, limiting their chances of success. Because the political system in Pakistan is based heavilty on patronage, wealthy landlords and entrenched political parties are given a distinct advantage. 

While many posit that they could never support a trans* candidate or a  "sex client", Faqueer has large support from the poor and various trans* communities in Pakistan. "The main political parties have failed to lessen people's problems," she said, leaving her house to campaign against rising inflation and poverty. My fingers are crossed for her and the voice that is slowly, but surely, being heard from the trans* communities in Pakistan. 


http://www.huffingtonpost.com/2013/04/18/pakistan-transgender-political-candidates-_n_3106370.html?utm_hp_ref=transgender

http://www.eturbonews.com/34433/pakistans-oppressed-transgender-lgbt-community-gets-voice

To my fellow Trans* people of color,

                You are brilliant, beautiful, and incredible.  Not that you need to be reminded, just that it’s not a message we get a lot and I want to add it to the world as often as I can.

                And I think you can help me with that.  See, thirty years ago Audre Lorde wrote that poetry is not a luxury in an essay that outlined the importance of writing in our daily lives.  You should look it up, like all of her writing.  I guarantee you’ll love it, because few writers or activists have shown the sheer love in their work and ideology that Lorde has.  Anyway, her point was that we must create and find beauty in our daily lives, even in the most mundane aspects.  This is something we as Trans* people of color need to do both as a community and as individuals.

                We need to begin to define who we are if we are going to organize and move ourselves forward, and one of the easiest ways to do this is by writing poetry.  Creating and performing poetry is possibly the most basic way of creating a united community that has existed for as long as human beings have, and contributes to the development of a culture and a shared identity.  Take a moment and think about how our writing—your writing—could shape TPOC culture and consciousness.  While we have a history,  a long and powerful one, the writings that are most influential, those from the Seventies and Nineties are in many aspects as removed from our lives as the white, straight, cis narratives that pervade this country’s culture today.  There is an undeniable need for something that defines us now, in a time when the world is constantly changing and being redefined.  

Also, I know that in my own case I need a vent for all the frustration and the fury I feel when I confront oppression, in any way I might be doing it.  Poetry can be a creative outlet for that, and can give us, a group of people who are never given the opportunity to speak for themselves, a powerful voice.  Only we can outline the full extent of our experiences, and we need to do so.  Not for others, not for the media that has misrepresented us or the communities that have marginalized us, but for ourselves.  For those of us who are just beginning their journey as a Trans* person, and for those of us who are isolated from a welcoming space.

                Even more than expressing all the rage we must stifle in our daily lives, we must show our beauty.  To portray the inner and outer beauty of our community is one of the most revolutionary things we can do, and one of the most fundamental for us to create a strong community.  Nothing remotely close to this exists, certainly not as a cohesive consciousness toward writing.  There are some poems online and in Trans* history, but these things are few and scattered.  That leaves it to us to add to this body of work and to make a space for our community to thrive and create spiritually and emotionally.  These writings can be our love note to one another in a world that has no positive messages for us, they can counter every stereotype, every internalized bit of transphobia, and replace them with strength and self-confidence.

Our words can and will carry power that no one has ever seen before, they can create bonds between us that will never be broken.  In my life I know that loneliness and a sense of alienation were some of the biggest struggles I faced, and I know that this is the case for many Trans* people.  I firmly believe that when we begin to represent ourselves, when we work to find one another, this situation will end and the TPOC movement will finally begin.   

                 Todo mi amor,

Sam Andazola