In the absence of representation and reflection of themselves in everyday spaces around them, queer/ trans people search for or create spaces they can call their own. These are typically not natal family spaces that cis-het people have continued access to. ‘I was part of a group where we would hold events for trans persons, t4t, away from the party scene. It was on this road only,’ said Akshata, pointing to the street opposite my office where we were meeting.
She turned to Anubhuti and added, ‘Anubhuti has done a lot for the community in corporate spaces through her company. Her work has been mentioned in Parmesh Shahani’s book Queeristan. Through her efforts, a reputed company has hired over 100 trans people, is working on trans-affirmative workplace policies and is making the effort to sensitise the workforce towards trans lives. When a company of this size and reputation makes an effort, other companies follow suit.’
In the absence of representation and reflection of themselves in everyday spaces around them, queer/ trans people search for or create spaces they can call their own. These are typically not natal family spaces that cis-het people have continued access to.
At the time Anubhuti was coming out there was no one in her town or company who was out as a trans person. She grew up quite isolated and knew with certainty that no medical or mental health practitioner would support her. ‘In 2012–13, in a small town where everyone knew everyone, I knew no one would support me. I still told the company counsellor about my gender identity and he prescribed anti-depressants for me, and asked me to join a group. I never went. Then I knew it had to be DIY. Do It Yourself.’
Anubhuti was 23 years old at that time. She found a website AskSusan for support; she went to Calcutta to find healthcare, she found a group there called Sappho For Equality, she found resources on Reddit, she asked other trans people and slowly she gathered the information she needed to start hormone therapy on her own. When it was time for surgery, she knew that psychiatrists would ask her a bunch of standardised (and irrelevant questions) to ascertain whether she can receive the Gender Identity Disorder (GID) diagnosis and certificate required for gender affirming medical procedures.
‘They ask questions like, did you play with dolls, did you like the colour pink? I did none of this as a child but I knew by then how to crack this and so I ticked yes for everything.’
While we laughed at the absurdity of cis understandings of gender, it only underscored how much power these systems had, run by cis-het people, to control trans lives.
While we laughed at the absurdity of cis understandings of gender, it only underscored how much power these systems had, run by cis-het people, to control trans lives. Every step towards an authentic life in one’s correct gender is blocked, delayed and refused to trans people. Each trans individual has to fight these systems alone, repeatedly.
That is why Akshata was worried about retraumatising Anubhuti who had gone through so much all on her own. Anubhuti on the other hand, wanted to be by Akshata’s side not just because she loved her, but because she wanted to be the support she never had in her own journey. ‘I wanted to offer her what I never had. I felt if she could feel less alone, if she knew there was someone cheering her on, it would make a huge difference. One day, I gave her a hug and said, “I hope you know you are bossing this.” The smile she gave me when I said this, I will never forget it. She had been going here, there and everywhere for her GID, for her documents, meeting doctors, and I don’t think anyone had told her that she was really doing such a fantastic job against all odds. Nobody tells you that as a trans person that you are doing good.’
In 2008, Akshata had started looking for resources to transition. However, every psychologist or psychiatrist she met, gave her damaging information, pathologising her. She had done her MBA, had a high-paying job and lived in a city like Bombay, yet there was no support. This lack of support threw her back in the closet for some more years. She even considered trying to live in the wrong gender because it seemed hopelessly futile.
It was in 2021 that Akshata began to consider transition again. She met a therapist who was supportive, she began HRT on her birthday and started meeting the community. It was during one of these queer events that she had bumped into Anubhuti. Akshata finally underwent surgery in December 2024 in Bangkok, Thailand. Anubhuti accompanied her.
‘I had initially planned to go alone. I knew my parents may not be able to be the support I need so I was going alone. But Anubhuti insisted on coming along. During that surgery period, she was by my side throughout, and that is when I realised that I really needed her. I don’t know how I could have done it alone.’
It was in 2021 that Akshata began to consider transition again. She met a therapist who was supportive, she began HRT on her birthday and started meeting the community.
Anubhuti adds, ‘I was not going to let her go alone. I have been through it and I know how much it would have meant to have someone with me. On the day of the surgery, we had to spend one night apart. Even the doctor was teasing us about constantly being together.’ Anubhuti imitated the doctor’s hand gestures depicting scissoring to goodhumouredly joke about being lesbians.
When Akshata opened her eyes after the surgery, the first person she saw was Anubhuti and she felt a deep joy. Anubhuti gifted her a book titled Pussy to congratulate her and welcome her into this part of her trans journey. The next few months were spent in recovering from the surgery, which took a little longer given her age; Akshata was 39 when she had the surgery.
When I met her for this story, Akshata was raring to be out and about in the world after her surgery. She was feeling a sense of confidence as a woman and was eager to be seen.
Excerpted with permission from ‘Homo and Juliet: Queer & Lesbian Love Stories’, by Shruti Chakravarty, Yoda Press.
About the author(s)
Feminism In India is an award-winning digital intersectional feminist media organisation to learn, educate and develop a feminist sensibility and unravel the F-word among the youth in India.
