Ronita looks at the clock and gets out of her hostel room. She has informed her family that she will be visiting the library, and the library is the type of excuse she likes to make, as it seems to be the safest. Despite that, she walks down the stairs with her phone vibrating. She is anxious about missed calls.
To Ronita, dating is never spontaneous. It consists of route planning, deleting messages, and timekeeping. “If I don’t pick up their call, they ask where I was and who I was with,” she says. “I’m always careful about what I say.”
Her family has no idea that she is queer. They make several calls a day to know her location. They examine her cell phone when she comes home. There is the deletion of chats, the hiding of apps, and the changing of contact names. It is not just that the fear is emotional rejection. “If they find out, they’ll stop my studies and bring me back home,” she says.
Ronita is also an example of a bigger truth in India for a number of queer women. Family surveillance rather than desire influences dating. Phone calls, curfews, and interrogation make intimacy a danger instead of an option. The possibility of the existence of any relationship depends, in many cases, on the way the life of a woman is closely observed in the home.
Surveillance changes everything
Dating has a much different meaning to queer women, who are either rural or lower-middle or working class. Close monitoring is a common aspect when it comes to family . Phones are checked. Calls are frequent. Movements are tracked.
What is presented as an interest in security soon becomes domination. When I do not pick up their call, they would begin enquiring where I was and what I was doing, Ronita says. The necessity to always be on the defensive side of a case puts privacy and choice on the back burner.
Lying and a lot of planning are required when dating under such situations. The meetings are justified in terms of library visits or classes. Messages are deleted. Apps are hidden. Even little outings are strictly watched. It is not just emotional rejection which is feared, but the loss of independence.
Getting caught can spell doom, including being sent home, issuing threats of a marriage, and loss of education and employment. Homosexual relationships are perceived to be dangerous, something that may cause embarrassment or inconvenience.
This fear is not abstract. Getting caught can spell doom, including being sent home, issuing threats of a marriage, and loss of education and employment. Homosexual relationships are perceived to be dangerous, something that may cause embarrassment or inconvenience.
Love in such situations is strained. There are no relationships that are ended because of a lack of feelings; the cost involved is too heavy to bear.
When dating feels impossible
In more conservative or rural settings, dating feels almost impossible. Visibility invites gossip. Repeated interactions are noticed. Even friendships are questioned. Sathi is 28 years old, and she resides in the Birbhum district of rural West Bengal. She is a helper in a tailoring unit around the community, and she stays with her parents. Dating is not an accepted activity in her region, particularly among women.
“People don’t really go on dates here,” she said. “If a woman is seen with the same person again and again, people start talking.” She has very strict control over her movements by her family. She is supposed to be home by 6.30 in the evening, and going out at night is asking for questions. Her life is anchored on a routine: she has to work in the morning, and then in the afternoon she has to do the chores at home, and then she spends the evening watching TV with her family. Telephone conversations are reviewed, and delays should be explained. Together with this, she constantly hears the reminder that it is time to settle down. In such a setting, it is inconceivable to date another woman.
“I’ve liked someone for years,” she said quietly. She met the woman around three years ago through Facebook, in a queer discussion group. The other woman lives in Kolkata and works in the private sector. They have never met in person. “We only talk on calls, Sathi said. “That’s all we can do.”
The talks occur at an hour when her family is asleep. Throughout the day, they do not communicate. Physical proximity is unimaginable, and even emotional intimacy is very much controlled. ‘I do not think of coming out,’ she said. “I think of surviving.”
The conditional acceptance and its restrictions on dating
Other queer women receive a different form of support, though with conditions. Their parents are aware of the fact that they are queer, but want it to stay in the shadows. Mampi, 30, who belongs to an upper-class conservative traditional Bengali family, is in between these two worlds. Her family background is a middle-class city family. Her parents are aware that she is queer, but she should not be seen. “They say, ‘Do what you want, but don’t bring trouble home,” she said.
Sathi is 28 years old, and she resides in the Birbhum district of rural West Bengal. “People don’t really go on dates here,” she said. “If a woman is seen with the same person again and again, people start talking.”
Priya can date, but with limits. No overnight stays. No neighbours finding out. No plans were discussed openly. Her family’s support is conditional. It allows space, but not recognition. Dating is possible, but commitment feels uncertain. “I can love someone,” she said. “But I don’t know if I can build a life.” This middle ground highlights how support is not a simple yes or no. It often comes with rules that shape how far a relationship can go.
When family support creates room
Although the dating life of most queer women is influenced by family surveillance, a few of them have a different reality. In the case of members of higher classes, the assistance is usually provided in the shape of space and silence, not open acceptance. Dating can be possible even without being brought out openly, though in the case of queer women who belong to upper-class families. Their families do not necessarily know much about queerness; however, they do not intervene either.
Ananya, 26, comes from an upper-class family in Kolkata. She lives with her parents, both professionals, and works in a private firm. Her family knows she is queer, though they rarely talk about it openly. “My parents don’t ask where I’m going or who I’m meeting,” she said. “If I say I’m meeting a friend, that’s enough.” Ananya is a long-time girlfriend of her partner. They get to meet at cafes, go to events and even at times travel together. Although she does not demonstrate affection publicly, she is not afraid that she will be caught or interrogated.
Social comfort and not safety define her dating life. She said she was still clumsy in explaining things to family members. However, my parents do not monitor my phone and do not prevent me from going out. Family support does not imply pride flags or the reassurance that she needs all the time. It means space. Without surveillance, her relationship gets to be in the open despite being secret. This absence of questioning is important. Sharing relationships without the fear of overload includes access to personal space, financial independence and personal transport. Relationships are formed in cafes, at bookstores, or somewhere one can sit and rest and feel safe.
“I still avoid holding hands in public,” she added, “but I don’t feel like I’m doing something illegal.” Here, dating looks almost ordinary. There are worries about compatibility, emotional vulnerability, and the future, but not the constant fear of being caught. Queerness exists quietly, but not in complete hiding.
Sneha, 24, is a post-graduate student from an elite family. As she emerged, her parents could not tell what to feel, but they were not angry. “They said they didn’t understand it, but they trusted me,” she said. That confidence is translated to freedom. Later, going out does not cause panic calls. Friendships are not questioned. Dating is a normal life, and it does not require the use of extensive cover-ups. Silence is security in these families. The family does not see, and the non-seeing makes space.
Queer intimacy, control, and class
In all these experiences, there is one strong trend, which is that class defines the manner of queerness living and experiencing. Queer scholar Srila Roy insists that the norms of class, caste, and respectability still define the way queer life is perceived and experienced in India, and social hierarchies can affect the relation to identity, as well as access to space, autonomy, and dignity. In most families, the privilege of classes enables one to ignore discomfort, establishing silence instead of close examination; money and personal privacy.
Families in upper, lower and middle classes, however, tend to use surveillance as a way of dealing with risk. The actions of women are directly connected to the reputation of the family, and authority is normally packaged as compassion. Queer dating has become perceived as a problem and not necessarily the choice in this environment. Intimacy turns out to be something secretive, to control, and to sacrifice.
Loving quietly, at a cost
In the case of queer women who do not have the support of their families, the emotional burnout cost is high. Continuous concealment brings about fear and fatigue. Relationships seem to be short-lived. The future feels uncertain. “I don’t dream far,” Ronita said. I simply consider the following week. Conversely, women whose families are supportive and have no interference talk of plans. Living together. Building partnerships. Imagining futures. There is a distance between these, and a mere question is the result. Who is allowed to date at the expense of love?
Until the family support can find a way beyond silence and regulation, most queer women will keep loving quietly, cautiously and at a price. Family support is said to be emotional. However, to lesbian women, it is highly functional. It defines the access to space, time, privacy and safety. It determines when dating is mundane or risky.
Until the family support can find a way beyond silence and regulation, most queer women will keep loving quietly, cautiously and at a price. Family support is said to be emotional. However, to lesbian women, it is highly functional. It defines the access to space, time, privacy and safety. It determines when dating is mundane or risky.
Throughout, there is no consistent appearance of support that resembles celebration. Occasionally, it is just a matter of not being monitored. As long as families do not abandon surveillance and control, dating life of queer women will remain an affair of fear as opposed to choice. Intimacy will be disjointed and bargained.
To most of the queer women in India, it is not about whether they desire to love, but rather it is about whether they are permitted to love. It is already tricky to be queer in India. It is accompanied by stigma, silence, and low levels of social acceptance. This is not the only struggle that queer women face. This is further discrimination, being a woman is more regulated, less freedom and observation and regulation of behaviour and desire.
They are judged in their queerness and police their womanhood. Collectively, these forces complicate the decisions made in everyday life, such as dating, meeting someone or envisioning a future, even more.
