Transgender people feel disappointed, but they aren’t without hope

Stepping out of the rickshaw, 21-year-old Zoya fixes her cap and pays her respects to Bindiya Rana, who reprimands her for being late.

Zoya sheepishly joins the rest of the transgender community that has gathered at the Karachi Press Club to commemorate Transgender Day of Remembrance to honour those who have been killed for their identity.

Dressed up to the nines, the group makes their way through to form a queue as Bindiya, whose Gender Interactive Alliance helmed the event, harks at them to stay put. Soon, the participants take turns to walk for the camerapersons blocking the road for traffic.

Clad in a copper-coloured sari, Bindiya is the first one to walk like models do on a ramp, except she holds a sign saying ‘Stop Transphobia’. Others follow suit and tell via their placards that all genders should be respected and given equal opportunities.

Out of all those who have dressed up for the walk, Zoya is the only one who is extremely underdressed, hence the scolding she received. Holding the message ‘What are my rights?’, she still comes forward, indifferent about the grey shalwar-kameez she has donned.

“It might seem odd, but this is our reality,” says Nisha Rao. “Many of us can’t live with our families if we don’t pose as men, hence her [Zoya’s] outfit is perhaps mirroring our stark reality.”

But while these transwomen feel confident in appearing before the lens, the men behind the cameras do not let go of any opportunity to pass lewd remarks or smirk after asking for their contact details. “However pathetic and heartbreaking it seems, it’s not news for us,” says Bindiya. “The media have usually supported us by voicing our concerns, but times like these shake our faith again. Journalists are supposed to be sensitised, but we can see that nobody spares us.”

Speaking about the idea behind the walk, Bindiya remarks that although Transgender Day of Remembrance has been observed every year since its inception, it is for the first time that members of the transgender community have organised a catwalk show.

“I agree that it’s a solemn day, and we remember all those who have met their untimely deaths by lighting these candles, but we have dressed up to tell the world that we shall not silently cower. We have gathered here to show that we have struggled for our rights and shall continue to do so.”

Following the walk, the attendees are handed candles in memory of those who have been killed, but as soon as they keep the candles away to talk to the media, men on motorbikes do not lose even a moment to use the road blocked for the commemoration.

While one biker apologises and turns away, censure by the transgender people bruises the ego of a few who do not budge and say vile things before breaking their chain. “I think we should not speak further to prove our case, because it’s visible how people consider us lesser than humans,” says a fuming Bindiya. “Had this been a protest organised by any other group, these men wouldn’t have dared take a further step.”

As the crowd makes way for traffic, Zoya fixes her cap again and smiles sadly. “I think I just need prayers to solve all the troubles in my life. I’m planning to continue my studies and then get financially independent, because without it my future seems bleak, filled with daily beatings at the hands of those who can harass us because they can control us.” But Bindiya is still optimistic. She beamingly exclaims that the next general elections would bring more faces contesting for the seats, hoping that the bill for the rights of the transgender people would give them their long overdue rights.