Aditya Tiwari interview: ‘Queer heroes have transformed lives of others like them’

“To my fellow queer friends, I hope that when you hold this book in your hands, you cherish the lives of these people and also think of those countless voices who will never be seen or heard but will continue to live and leave behind their impact, even if it may not be felt widely,” writes Tiwari in the preface of his book. The trailblazers who raised their voice for queer rights are either not known or long forgotten.

Tiwari writes, “The Pride flag alone is insufficient to make one whole sari for a hijra who has to clap and strip naked on the streets to protect herself,” underlining why the fight for queer rights in India is fundamentally different from fight for queer rights in the West. What was his motivation behind profiling these 19 heroes? What was the process of writing the book like? The Federal spoke to Aditya on queer liberation, issues within the LGBT+ community and how one can make publishing an inclusive space. Edited excerpts from the interview:

In many ways, India’s Queer Heroes can be read as a primer on familiarising oneself with the trailblazers who laid the foundation of the fight for queer rights in India. Do you agree with this assessment?

I agree with it to a certain extent. But I feel a book like this will never be completed, no matter how many versions of it are written. People often ask, “LGBTQ+ logo ne kiya kya hai (what has the LGBTQ+ community accomplished)?” This is what they have done. They are heroes who have made lives easy for other queer people. People like Ashok Rao Kavi, India’s first gay activist, or Madhubai Kinnar, who became Raigarh’s Mayor — they have transformed lives of others who are like them.

What was your motivation behind profiling India’s queer heroes?

I remember an incident. There’s an app called Clubhouse which gained popularity during the lockdown. I would go on this app and speak to young people from Delhi, Mumbai and the metropolitan cities. Surprisingly, they had no idea about India’s queer history. I felt that there is a need to document queer folks who played a crucial role in India’s fight for gay rights. I hosted rooms in the Clubhouse trying to educate people. Many of our heterosexual counterparts would join in and listen with great curiosity. Then there was an increase in incidents of self-harm among queer community. I was greatly impacted by Aarvey Malhotra’s death. I felt we were failing queer kids. I didn’t want queer kids to feel lonely and ostracized because of their identity.

Growing up, I remember there used to be a hijra person I interacted with in Jabalpur using a secret language called hijra farsi. Folks were flabbergasted seeing us converse, wondering “what are they talking about?” People didn’t know kothi means non-binary. They used the words ‘gay’ and ‘trans’ interchangeably. I was appalled seeing this because India is a diverse country. There is a need to change this and bring in awareness. I wanted to change this. That is how the book was born.

Tell us about your personal journey as a queer person. Did it play a role in profiling these individuals?

This book is a personal journey for me. I grew up in Jabalpur, a city where discourse on homosexuality was next to none. I was bullied throughout my school life. I became a part of the movement when I was 13. I was a rebellious child. I found my way into gay parks of Jabalpur where I would meet people like me — the kothis, the transgenders and the gay people. Back in the day, gay parks were not exclusively meant for cruising but for finding companionship. In a pre-Article 377 Jabalpur, these spaces existed in a parallel world after the dark. If we met someone like us, we would be happy and befriend them. Unfortunately, this doesn’t happen today.

What are some issues within the LGBTQ+ community that you feel must be addressed?

The movement is capitalized now and the media plays a role in it. This is an issue particularly around the pride month. Companies would just Google search “India’s first gay activist” or such keywords, pick up a figure and use them to promote their brand. I have spoken about it before. I wanted my work to get noticed like Delhi and Mumbai folks do but that wasn’t happening. So I made an effort to include people in the book who come from different intersections of class, caste, gender identity. I wanted these nuances and complexities to be reflected in the book.

While there may not be a simple answer to this, do you feel the publishing industry is welcoming of queer voices? Or is there still a long way to go?

It is not. There’s no lying about it. There are independent efforts being made. There are queer people in positions of power — queer writers, journalists and Commissioning Editors have tried to change this. Today, we see books by K Vaishali or Santa Khurai. Five years ago, things weren’t so great. LGBTQ+ titles were easily seen on the bookshelves of stores. The publishing landscape needs to change completely for queer narratives to thrive. We need publishing to be a safe space for queer writers to share their stories.

Did you take extra steps to make sure that there is no unintentional appropriation or misrepresentation on your part since these stories are very sensitive?

When I wrote the book, I wanted to handle these profiles with care and sensitivity. I didn’t want to unintentionally deadname, or misgender any individual. I give credit to Juggernaut here. I had suggested adding a trigger warning in the book and they agreed. It is a watershed moment and a huge step in terms of inclusion. I believe Juggernaut is the first publisher to do something like this. Even in the process of copyediting, we added an extra note for Rituparno Ghosh’s pronouns. These small additions are big wins.

Is there any queer hero you wished you could add to this list of 19 names?

There are people from different castes, classes and different cities we profiled in the book but we couldn’t include a trans man. In India, we rarely see trans men in the open, owning their identities which must be addressed. I also feel we could have added more names to the list but I am sure if there is a second version, we’ll be mindful of that.

Have you met any of the individuals you profiled? If yes, how was the experience?

I met Saleem Kidwai when I attended the Likho fellowship in Bombay in 2019. It was dinner time when Saleem ji came up to me, asked me to sit at the table quite warmly. That is the best thing a queer person can do — help folks like them who have faced the same challenges but aren’t from big cities feel like they are at home and welcomed. Saleem had a warmth about him. We stayed in touch after that day. His passing left me baffled but he taught me the gift of empathy towards our own kind which we often forget.