“Sometimes i wish for a heterosexual romance

so I look very carefully/for that special everyday kinda man

in university corridors/a hegelian-but-not-marxist guy

to eventually get bored/of the endless addas and cups after cups of pheeki chai

      -Vqueeram Aditya Sahai

 

As a seven-year-old reading some book whose title I now don’t recall, I had encountered the word “dating” for the first time. In my head, dates only meant DD/MM/YYYY, and I had asked my grandmother what it meant to date somebody.

Fast forward to a few years later, when dating is not just something I understand, it is also an activity which fills me with anxiety. And the Indian household and “good girl” image isn’t the only reason.

Growing up Queer in an Indian household generally comes with a lot of secrecy, lies and denial. Coming to terms with my identity, aged thirteen or fourteen, was very easy- but navigating my identity in relation to the rest of the world felt scary. Finding a Queer community amongst friends, and later online, has been a wonderful feeling, and kept me going through bitter moments.

When Cupid’s arrow is shot at the patriarchal heteronormative society, a public display of affection is often frowned upon. For a Queer couple, the fight is perhaps harder.

Especially with the pandemic stripping most of us off our social lives, the Queer community has lost access to physical safe spaces. While Queer dating has largely been shelved away in online spaces, the pandemic has taken away the thin garb of privacy and safety which they might have had earlier.

A survey conducted among a mixed group of people revealed that 81% of the respondents’ families were not accepting of their Queer identity, or were completely in the dark about it. 83.3% said they would never be able to talk about their non-heteronormative relationships with their families.

Mili, a student at Mithibai College, responded that stereotyping is a massive problem for queer individuals, sometimes even within the community itself. One of the respondents who would prefer to remain anonymous stated that- owing to the stereotypes, she fears that someone will forcefully out her if she does not come out soon. Potential partners feel insecure and fear cheating, if an individual is attracted to multiple genders. Hem, a student- agrees, and adds that body dysphoria especially among trans individuals is a cause of insecurity, often leading to jealousy over the partner’s body. Harshil Singh, a Bangalore-based graphic designer and visual artist says, “I was in lockdown with my family and it almost felt like being at straight camp.” They also talk about power clashes between potential partners, and the fear that comes with being an older gay man in India.

For women loving women (WLW) couples, a public display of physical affection can be written off as girls just being sentimental. They get away with a lot more, was a common response to the survey. This too has its obvious downside- drawing from experience, my partner and I were recently followed around by a man who was very “curious” about us, and was hoping for sexual favours.

For Queer couples of different gender identities, it is harder to feel safe in public. Most of the respondents agreed that Queer dating will largely remain locked away in online spaces for the foreseeable future. Abira Das, a Calcutta-based student, feminist activist, and founder of a youth organization- points out that while apps for Queer dating allow regaining of online spaces for Queer communities, they are largely owned by corporates which thrive on pink capitalism. She stresses on the need for campaigns and sensitization programmes. Drawing on her own experience, she said that she had been dating someone who later came out as a transwoman. When she told her mother about the same, her mother’s elated response was- "Thank god! There wouldn’t be any men in this family." That kind of support is generally hard to find, however. Ruhi, a student in Bangalore, says that their family is extremely dismissive of their Queer identity, and pretend like it never happened. Echoed by Ruhi and several others is a common refrain- the cisgender heteronormative society don’t understand even the basics of the Queer community, and it becomes a painful responsibility to “educate” them, in the hopes of gaining some acceptance.

Having to hide relationships, never consuming any Queer content near family, and being at the receiving end of pity rather than empathy are other issues.

While the pre-pandemic era allowed a more open space to meet, and allowed a greater sense of community, the pandemic has taken away these safe spaces, relegating many individuals into abusive households. For those without access to online spaces, the pandemic has perhaps been the hardest.

Most of the respondents felt that the prospect of acceptance or normalising Queer relationships seems bleak at best, in India. Nearly three years since the abolition of Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, homosexuality is a largely misunderstood and ridiculed concept.