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@desbianherstory
It's great to see you back on tumblr! You had such a great blog chronicling desi lesbian history, your work is truly appreciated.
Hey, thank you! I'm not really back but I did really like that film and would recommend it, content warning that it's about PTSD from sexual assault.
Sabrina Jalees in I Used To Be Funny (2023) dir. Ally Pankiw
Category: Woman (2022, dir. Phyllis Ellis). Stream here.
When 18-year-old South African runner Caster Semenya burst onto the world stage in 2009, her championship was not celebrated, but marred by doubt, her personal medical records leaked to the international media. The public scrutiny of her body, driven by racism and sexism, questioning the most fundamental right of who she is, a great champion. The International Amateur Athletics Federation (now World Athletics) then ruled that targeted female athletes must medically alter their healthy bodies in order to compete. Their naturally high androgen levels, 'deemed' a performance advantage. Category: Woman focuses on four remarkable athletes, from the Global South, forced out of competition by these regulations, the devastation to their bodies, and their lives. Equally arresting is their passion for sport is further emboldened by their conviction to stand up for their human rights. Following her award-winning film Toxic Beauty, filmmaker and Olympian Phyllis Ellis exposes an industry controlled by men putting women’s lives at risk while the policing of women’s bodies in sport remains, in a more nefarious way, under the guise of fair play.
Breaking from this blog's hiatus to post this in light of the racist bullying of Imane Khelif. I'd recommend everyone watch it (it's only 76 min) for an understanding of the issues at play - how the false, easily digestible narrative of "fairness" in fact means unfairness and racist mistreatment for these extraordinary women. Even the introduction is powerful:
"Some bodies are marked. The gender that goes unmarked as male. Women are maked in all the ways that they are different. The unmarked race is white. Some bodies that are black and brown and female have a particular kind of marking. These bodies are marked as insufficiently human. How do you castigate a category of people as insufficiently human? By throwing their gender into doubt."
Dutee Chand, India's first openly lesbian athlete is interviewed in this documentary about the racist mistreatment and scrutiny she received for these issues.
Please watch and spread!
Source
maja ma (2022)
hi, so i'm a south asian lesbian too, and i was really excited when i found this blog. i've read your past responses to being asked about your personal thoughts on trans women and responses to being called a 'terf'.
i mean no offense when i say this, but i never felt like i got a clear answer after reading through those. so i'm simply going to ask straight-up, if you believe that trans women are women? like just a yes, or no, or maybe, since you've already exhaustively given out explanations. personally, i would really appreciate if you could provide a clear, short answer :)
hope you have a nice day
tbh, i'm a professional woman in my 30s and i find this need to repeat mantras as opposed to practising actual thought and empathy kind of pathetic.
i wasn't born on the internet yesterday. i know how this goes. "you're saying trans women are women? so then why are you saying that lesbians should categorically be able to say they aren't attracted to trans women? how are they lesbians then? aren't they genital fetishists? because they're not interested in women, just genitals? if you really believe trans women are women then why won't you date a trans woman?" it's not a game that i will be playing.
trans people should be treated in conformity with their gender identity which means societal recognition of trans men as men, and trans women as women. this does not mean our lives and experiences will be without significant differences, and smoothing over those differences and the complications posed by them is a lazy evasion that disrespects all parties.
MANIFEST (2018━) 2x08: “Carry On”
hey genuine question from a desi ace lesbian but I just wanted to confirm: do you think lesbians who date/are sexually attracted to trans women are valid? what about trans men; do you think a lesbian being attracted to a trans man as a lesbian is valid? non-binary people regardless of genitalia? I thinkkk you do but I couldn't tell clearly from your posts
‘lesbian’ is a term used to describe female people who are exclusively attracted to other female people. this group of people - female people who are exclusively attracted to other female people - will always exist because our orientation is innate. homosexuality is innate. so if you change the word 'lesbian’ to mean something other than us (for example, i once saw someone on this site say it should be okay to refer to oneself as a lesbian if you’re attracted to ‘everyone apart from cishet men’ and that seems to be what you’re getting at with your question) we will continue to exist. we will continue to be a minority, we will continue to be discriminated against, but we will no longer have language to describe our shared and specific experiences. specificity in language is important when talking about minority groups (think about racism, casteism, ableism etc) because otherwise our lives and experiences are unheard/invisibilized, and the issues impacting our lives are incorrectly framed.
i created this blog to spread accurate information about south asian lesbian cultures and histories. in keeping with this goal, i have posted pretty much everything i can find relevant to south asian lesbians/lesbian relationships. i’ve posted the stories of people on this blog who see their identity as somewhere between lesbian/trans men. i have posted a woman talking about how her ex does not appreciate that she identifies as a lesbian because the ex has transitioned, identifies as a trans man and therefore sees their past relationship as a straight relationship. life is complicated and people are complicated. i didn't create this blog to police anyone's sexuality or identity but to spread information.
i have posted opinions i’ve disagreed with because it’s not a blog about my opinions but a blog about lesbians, about lesbian identity, about lesbian pride. but that said, i deserve a word to describe my experiences and that word exists - it’s lesbian. there are broader terms like queer for example, and many blogs re: queer people. in fact, most of the south asian lgbtq blogs on this site are for all lgbtq people. my blog however focuses on lesbians. that was intentional. i made this blog when i excommunicated my family. i’m not going to apologize for or deny my sexuality on my lesbian blog.
why have you tagged asks as cw homophobia when they speak about you being a terf? asking this as a cis lesbian no hate
are you a terf? 1. I’m tired of this but here is a post with some links answering related questions. Anyway, I’ve decided to do something un
Happy 1500 posts!
When I started this blog in Oct ‘18, had no idea I would be able to put together 1000+ original posts on south asian lesbians/lesbian relationships.
Hope this blog has been helpful!
Monisha Ajgaonkar, a wedding photographer and founder of The Photo Diary in Mumbai, is also an LGBTQ activist. Taking a unique approach to honouring Pride month this year, she released a video titled Our own galaxy incorporating sign language into the plot. “This video was made to raise awareness among both the deaf and LGBTQ communities,” says the 33-year-old Monisha.
Monisha elaborates, “Our Own Galaxy is the story of a young lesbian couple in love, who speak to each other in sign language. The story revolves around a couple spending their last day together. One of them is fascinated by the stars and moon and reminds her partner that even though they will be in different cities or countries, they will always be in touch because the moon is shared by both of them, and they will think of each other every time they look up at the sky. Apart from the sign language used in the film, expressions and movements also convey much more.”
huge influx of followers want to let you know jsut as a litmus test that I would beat Johnny Depp to the edge of death with a baseball bat should the stars align and if you disagree with that block me
amber just had to prove one incident of abuse. as per the motion to set aside, there was evidence of multiple uncontested incidents of domestic violence.
but really, one of the things that bothers me most about depp’s lawsuit, one reason why he should be beaten to the edge of death with a baseball bat as above, is that the whole lawsuit was trying to sue her for having the audacity to apply for a restraining order and receive one, which she did to formally protect herself from his abuse. he could not sue her for having gotten a restraining order so he created this frivolous lawsuit for an article she did not write, where she did not name him, instead.
if johnny depp was awaiting lethal injection, i would press the button to inject with no hesitation whatsoever and no blind system required.
Sharan Dhaliwal is an openly bisexual British-Indian writer, journalist and activist. Dhaliwal is the founder and editor of Burnt Roti, a South Asian magazine. She also created Oh Queer Cupid, a queer speed dating and comedy night, in addition to founding and directing Middlesex Pride. Dhaliwal’s memoir Burning My Roti: Breaking Barriers as a Queer Indian Woman was published this year.
Since Burnt Roti’s inception, I came out as bisexual and realised that a lot of the reason that I had held back from living my true life was because of the way I grew up. I wanted to make sure that it wasn’t a continued pained experience for others, so I started to focus on LGBTQ+ stories, and out of that have created Middlesex Pride. It’s the first Pride event for Middlesex – I want to focus on discussions and education. I grew up in Southall and Hounslow and, along with many other South Asian people, was immersed in a very traditional life. When I came out, I noticed messages from people thanking me for doing it, but also telling me that they can not – I learnt that a lot of these people lived in the Middlesex area. There’s a severe lack of LGBTQ+ visibility in communities there and that creates two things – a lot of people don’t understand what sexuality means for the LGBTQ+ community and tend to focus on sexual acts or HIV. It means that the stigma attached to it causes young people to stifle themselves, sometimes exacerbating mental health issues. Another thing it does it creates a doubt in the minds of those who are discovering their sexuality. If it isn’t discussed or taken seriously, it must not be real. People could live a long time (like myself), keeping any feelings or desires to themselves. My mental health suffered, I was in various relationships I didn’t actually want to be in and I was stuck in a destructive pattern of getting with someone, disliking the situation and leaving it soon after.
So attitudes towards sex and sexuality where you grew up were a little guarded?
There’s a stigma around sex and sexual acts (like with much of society), and it’s considered ‘dirty’. Talking about our bodies is seen as ‘disgusting’ – including puberty and menstruation. A lot of South Asian womxn learn to keep to themselves – never asking questions and never really learning more than they’re told. It’s changing a little, but there are still remnants of it there, which I want to break down. Older generations would, for example, say that they never heard of the word ‘lesbian’ before. There’s not really a word that translates in the Punjabi language now (I’m not sure if that’s changed over time) but there is a language barrier. Teaching certain words, what they mean and what effect they would (and wouldn’t) have on them is important. There’s still stigmas and negative connotations, but it needs to be broken down and explained.
So, being bi! What are your experiences like as a bi woman of colour in 2019?
Ok so let’s talk about fetishisation. The first woman I went on a proper date with was a white American, who seemed to have an obsession with Indians. I’m not gonna lie, I ignored the red flag from her text which popped up on my phone in all caps “I REALLY WANT AN INDIAN”. At first I wondered if she was Indian, and then she spent the rest of the day texting me about Bollywood films, as if I knew nothing about them. It felt strange. But I was incredibly attracted to her and just wanted to go on a date, so I did. She didn’t speak too much about Indian stuff then, but the texts continued – she wanted me to teach her Hindi. I suddenly felt like I was working as an unpaid language tutor. For some reason, I expected to experience fetishisation from cis men, not from the LGBTQ+ community – it was that naivety that was the biggest blow. I’ve had struggles being specifically bi on dating apps – lesbians haven’t taken me seriously. I’ve had some unmatch me because they assumed I was just “messing around” on the app. I’m now in a relationship with a woman and it feels amazing – she doesn’t question my bisexuality, she knows I want to be with her. It’s not just the lesbian community – there are bad eggs everywhere. But bisexuality is definitely considered a ‘half assed attempt at being gay’.
How did your family react when you came out?
My dad had a pure and wholesome reaction, where he quoted me verbatim “Sharan, sexuality is fluid” and I lost it. Firstly, credit me when you quote me, secondly I don’t even know if he knows what he’s saying. But bless him, he doesn’t care about my sexual preference, he just wants me to be happy. My mother had a strange reaction – she jumped between disliking it and not caring. I think she thinks there’s fifty per cent chance I will marry a man, so she’s just relying on that. I don’t want to get into maths with her, so I just let her be for now. But a big part of Middlesex Pride is to allow her and others like her to find out more about what it means to want to be with someone who isn’t the ‘expected gender’. I want her to know it’s okay if I don’t marry a cis man. In fact, I’m going to marry my girlfriend, so she has to be on board or she won’t get to hang out with her grandkids lol.
...I’ve had people engage with my race while dating. Not in a positive way, but in a way that fetishises me. There was a woman, (yes, you guessed right, she’s white), who I went on a couple of dates with and my friends and I still speak about her actions to this day. I came across her on Twitter and we started talking over DMs. She showed mild interest, but not as much as I did: remember, I was eager to prove my bisexuality with women and non-binary people, so would find myself engaging excessively on social media platforms. We eventually exchanged numbers and went out on a date. On the lead up to the date, I would receive a flurry of messages, showing interest but also a very specific interest. She talked a lot about Bollywood and well … Indian things. At one point, assuming she knows more than me, would tell me things about the Bollywood stars I grew up with. I assumed she was just dense, but my horniness took over and I went on the date. It was awkward: she controlled a significant part of the conversation and as it was my first proper date with a woman, I was nervous. The date ended and I felt strange. A few days later we were still talking over text, and she kept talking about India and I found myself sighing every time her name popped up on my phone.
I was on the bus, coming back from a meeting when I looked at my phone and saw a message saying:
‘I’m obsessed with Indians now. Watching these movies like “CAN I HAVE ONE?”’
I stopped moving. In fact, it felt like the bus had stopped in shock too. It felt like everyone on the bus took a sharp intake of breath and were staring at my phone.
‘CAN I HAVE ONE?’
Can I have one? My mind goes to takeaways, because I always give people the benefit of the doubt. She’s hungry for a takeaway? No, she wasn’t. She was hungry for an Indian person. The cannibal nature of her fetishisation is not an exaggeration – there’s a need to devour the culture, the people, the art. They consume it.
‘Indian people fucking love me. I will be in an item song. I WILL BE.’
Do Indian people fucking love you? Really? Because this Indian person is really regretting that date. For those who don’t know: an item song is a number in a Bollywood film, performed by a dancer/actor who isn’t cast as a main character but is just introduced for this song – and it is usually very seductive. Like a sexy cameo that no one needed. I guess that sums her up as well.
‘I FANCY ALL INDIANS. Hahahahahahaha!’
The laugh was deafening.
She talked about adopting an Indian accent, about learning how to speak and write in Hindi and then perform her stand up (yup, she’s a comedian). She talked about wearing Indian dresses like they were costumes and has since modelled for Pakistani TV. She would send me scribblings of her learning Hindi and ask me to translate certain words.
I’m Punjabi. I know Hindi from Bollywood. Also, I can barely write in English, I can’t decipher what you’re writing, woman. Eventually, I stopped replying more and more. It took longer than it should have because my heart was broken over the idea that my first proper date with a woman went down like this. What were the chances. I was so adamant that men were the worst and then I was reminded that white women are not far behind them. She was not at all interested in me, my personality, my work, my looks, my desires … she was interested in the fact that I’m Indian. She didn’t care that I had a magazine that works with creative and young people. She didn’t care that I wanted to talk about systematic oppression. She definitely didn’t care about any of my stories. She didn’t even really want to be with me in any sense of the word.
She wanted to use me to learn how to be more Indian. This white woman. Turns out she was known in the comedy circuit for being problematic and my friends who were actual good comedians filled me in. I’ve been fetishised by men before, but that’s kind of expected. I have very little expectation from them, so I wouldn’t be surprised. But when it came from the first woman I went on a proper date with, it sent me down a hole of uncertainty. I wasn’t sure whether I was able to survive the dating world as a bisexual person, because men suck and now, I had this awful experience. So, what now?
Through time and speaking to others, I developed confidence back in myself, but it has still stuck with me. Now when someone says ‘I’d like to watch a Bollywood film with you’, after I’ve told them I’ve spent the whole day dancing to Bollywood songs, instead of saying ‘sure!’, my mind thinks ‘okay but why though’. And I scrutinise actions. I rarely give the benefit of the doubt. I often overanalyse.
Sharan Dhaliwal, Burning my Roti: Breaking Barriers as a Queer Indian Woman
The surge in homophobic attacks will only add to uncertainty felt by some LGBT people, says Sharan Dhaliwal, editor of Burnt Roti
I came out last year, just before my 34th birthday, as a bisexual woman. As a result, I regularly hear from people asking what they should do because they’re getting older and, sometimes, are more frightened to come out. I understand. I wasn’t sure what to do for a long time – I didn’t know if I was going to be accepted or understood. As a 35-year-old who had been previously engaged to a cis man and as someone who could have never imagined being publicly happy with a woman or nonbinary person – I empathise.
Coming out as bisexual – a misunderstood sexuality – added layers of insecurity and doubt. Will everyone think I’m just seeking attention? Do I just need more Instagram likes to make this go away? Just because I think Zoë Kravitz is beautiful does that really equate to being queer? Why didn’t you do this earlier?
People look at me now, a vocal queer activist, and wonder what I’ve been doing for the past 25 years. I get asked what it was like to “live a lie”. It wasn’t a lie – I’ve always known I’m attracted to women, I just didn’t feel safe enough to say it out loud. There’s no denying the levels of doubt that enter your mind when coming out, but that’s the reaction to years of conditioning – to be a good straight Indian wife to a straight Indian man. I knew deep down that I was attracted to more than just men, but I wasn’t sure that it meant I was queer or that I could do anything about it.
Yet as a straight-presenting queer, I had the privilege of taking my time in coming out. No one’s attacked me before for being different or assumed my sexuality. Safety is the key here – no one can expect you to come out until you’re ready, whether it’s because of your family, religion, culture, work or mental health. If the next generation of young people are taught the concept of different sexualities and genders in an open and transparent way it will help with their journey. But while this debate continues, more people will suffer with mental health issues, some will come out later in their lives because they don’t feel safe, many will harm themselves or be harmed by others. Although I want people to feel safe and comfortable before making any public announcements, I’m also aware of the nature of the world we live in.
Homophobic attacks are becoming more common, having more than doubled in England and Wales since 2014; our trans (especially black) brothers and sisters are being killed. When Ann Widdecombe publicly says that science “may produce an answer” to being gay, she’s telling people like me that it’s not OK to come out. That there’s something wrong with us. This narrative has run deep in my life – from family to the media. People around me have used “lesbian” as a slur or the butt of a joke. The media gives a platform to homophobes. All this fuels uncertainty in the minds of LGBT+ people, it perpetuates mental health issues and creates a hostile environment for anyone considering coming out.
It’s vital we change that narrative. Don’t let your friends call someone “gay” as an insult, don’t let people make assumptions about someone’s identity and don’t try to out someone before they’re ready to do it for themselves. Allies of the LGBT+ community need to create an environment of safety to allow us to feel welcomed. Understand that letting your children learn about all sexualities and genders won’t instantly make them queer – that’s not how that works. Children don’t hear about Henry VIII killing his wives and go around murdering their partners. Education is important for the wellbeing of all communities – whether immigrant or LGBT+.
It took years of work before I could allow myself to feel comfortable in my sexuality. I found that my openness and mental health came hand in hand. My mind told me I was worthless, and so I didn’t believe my sexuality was of any importance. But part of my mental health issues were the result of the homophobia I had witnessed around me. I understand why it took me this long to come out, but perhaps if we can change the environment in which I grew up, it won’t take others so long.
Sharan Dhaliwal, “A Letter to My Aunty: I Promise To Live The Life You Couldn't Lead, Loudly“
Dear Aunty,
When womxn of colour are asked if there are any queer people in their families who’ve helped with their journeys, you will often notice an air of silence. It’s rare you see or hear these people. They exist, but it’s rare.
I thought I was the only (out) queer person in mine. I came out as bisexual almost two years ago, in an article for my magazine. I did it without telling anyone first. I was scared of what people might say. And having placed myself in a vulnerable state, I was aware of the isolation that would follow.
Among my relatives, I was already considered a lost cause for being ‘reckless’ with life decisions. Some reacted negatively about my sexuality, too – seeing me as a stain on the respectability of our name.
Then one day I heard about you.
You lived in India your whole life and I knew you mostly as the woman who had untreated schizophrenia. Only recently has your condition been diagnosed; before that, ableist terms were used to describe you. You were always referred to as “the mad one” in your lifetime. The diagnosis came after your death.
There were a handful of times, when I was very young, that I met you, on one or other of the many trips we took to India. You were labelled as dangerous and scary, so I found myself hiding behind my parents when we were introduced. I now remember the pain in your face.
You died in old age, a few years ago and it was only last year that I found out about the relationship you’d had with another woman. I remember saying, “No, you mean she had a girl who was a friend, not a girlfriend.”
I was interrupted with a simple, “No, Sharan. She was gay.”
Things are changing for my generation and those younger than me. But looking back, it was harder then for people in immigrant communities to come out, due to cultural or religious strongholds. It was – is – especially hard in families where there’s an entrenched need to please, whether because of lingering colonial mindsets or honouring back-dated caste systems. In my own Indian family, these things have held some people back from living their true lives.
You never came out. Instead, you were married at a young age and because of your mental health and abusive partner, you went through a divorce. Getting a divorce in those times was looked down upon – but because your schizophrenia was viewed as destructive, you were were branded as unlovable.
So you stayed single and isolated, until this other woman came into your life. She helped take care of you and from there, a relationship blossomed. You fell in love and were by each other’s side constantly. Then one day, the family found out. They stopped you from seeing each other and you died alone.
Anonymity even after death is something I wish to hold for you – your sexuality has rarely been discussed until now. But since I heard your story, I’ve felt a powerful energy. Knowing that someone else in my family was out there, in a relationship with a woman, has meant the world to me.
Now, in my relationship with my own partner, I know that every moment counts, because those before me suffered to get what I have. Every time someone tells me they don’t approve, I know I have the freedom to continue as I am, because I have your story in mind.
Despite all that you went through and your lack of access to the care you needed, you were able to have that moment of joy with the woman you loved.
I didn’t know you had paved a way in my family to conversations about being gay. For so long, I believed I was the only one. Nor did I imagine the young girl hiding behind her parents as she looked at you in fear would one day look at you as someone who validated her existence.
There was a queer woman before me. And the life she wasn’t able to have is the life that I will loudly lead.
Thank you,
Sharan
Archie Panjabi as Kalinda, with Jill Flint and Jordana Spiro (8th pic) in ‘The Good Wife’ S5 & S6
