Log Kya Kahenge? LGBTQIA+ South Asians Navigating UCLA and Beyond
Image Description: Digital illustration of a person in profile, facing to the right. They have short, wavy black hair, a brown skin tone, and a strong jawline. They are wearing a small gold hoop earring in their visible ear. Their facial features are well-defined, with arched eyebrows, a slightly upturned nose, and full lips. They are dressed in a purple shirt, which contrasts with the vibrant, multicolored background. The background features a gradient of warm and cool tones, including shades of orange, red, purple, and green, radiating outward in a soft, blended effect.
“Log kya kahenge?” The pervasive question of “What will people say?” dictates many decisions South Asians make – a pressure that remains even more difficult to navigate for queer and trans South Asians. Living authentically often means navigating a labyrinth of cultural expectations, societal scrutiny and deeply ingrained familial pressures. These pressures have forced many LGBTQIA+ South Asian folks to lead double lives, only living authentically when they achieve financial independence and self-acceptance. In contrast, queer-friendly spaces like clubs at UCLA offer queer and trans South Asians an environment where they can explore their identities more freely. Even so, in these more progressive spaces, obstacles persist. Through the challenges and celebrations, community – whether found through family, friends, or organizations – plays a critical role in the journey of embracing queerness and living authentically.
The Double Life: Navigating Familial and Societal Expectations
For queer folks living in South Asia, the road to acceptance often first evolves into leading a double life – one that garners acceptance and praise from others, and another where they can be themselves. I interviewed Parimal, a gay man in his 40s who grew up in Pune, Maharashtra and now lives in the Bay Area. He reflected on his youth as a time without the words or role models for understanding his identity. Isolated in his queerness, he spent years concealing his true self. He first came out to his sister, a pivotal moment that marked the beginning of his journey. Later, he shared his identity with his parents, a decision that took even more time and courage. Living openly, he said, made him feel “lighter” after years of keeping parts of himself hidden. However, even after moving to the United States, the pressure to conform to traditional expectations followed him. His family’s concerns remained tied to external appearances – what relatives and neighbors might say, or “Log kya kahenge?” – rather than his happiness.
Similarly, Deepak spent much of his early adulthood in the closet, coming out publicly only in his late 20s. Deepak, like Parimal, grew up in India and moved to the States later on in his life. Originally from Kerala, he noted that the absence of safe spaces and community support in his childhood made self-discovery an isolating and prolonged process. By the time he was thirteen, he realized he was gay but felt he could not tell anyone. Hearing his peers mock gay people daily fueled his frustration to the point where he told a classmate – a fleeting moment of vulnerability that he would not take any further until fourteen years later. As Deepak got older, he grew more financially independent, a security that gave him the freedom to embrace his identity. Education became his safety net for self-support and garnered him respect, even from the homophobic members of his family. Though he grew more secure in his identity, Deepak only felt safe enough to come out publicly when he attended an LGBT party in Mumbai. Seeing hundreds of fellow Desi queer people around him, living freely, authentically and proud of who they were, sparked a pivotal shift in him. In that moment, he saw a reflection of the life he could have and it gave him the courage to live as himself and out loud.
I also spoke with Vishnu, a gay man in his early 30s also from Kerala who now lives in Atlanta. Vishnu knew he was gay when he was thirteen years old, even finding young forbidden love with a classmate. His mother found out he was gay when he was 18, but swept it under the rug. To this day, they avoid the topic, with the weight of societal expectations around marriage and children continuing to linger in their relationship.
Balancing the desire to embrace important parts of identity with these ongoing expectations has been a source of stress for many queer and trans South Asians, illustrating the unique challenges of navigating both personal and communal identities. For many queer South Asians, the fear of rejection is ever-present, fueled by the cultural taunt of “Log kya kahenge?” This pressure often forces queer and trans folks to suppress their identities until they achieve independence or a sense of security.
The Roots of Homophobia: A Colonial Legacy
While homophobia in the U.S typically stems from Christian ideals, homophobia in South Asia grew out of its history of colonialism, driven more by political gains and cultural norms, rather than religious beliefs. British colonial laws, particularly Section 377 of the Indian Penal Code, has institutionalized discrimination against queerness. Prior to colonization, many South Asian cultures acknowledged and embraced diverse sexualities and gender expressions – as early as 400 BCE – prevalent in historical texts like the Kama Sutra and Sangam literature, sculptures of genderfluid deities and the concept of a “third gender.”
Today, ignorance and misinformation perpetuate homophobia and transphobia across South Asia. Parimal shared how being gay was often stereotyped as “too effeminate.” When he came out to more people, many questioned him with comments like, “But you’re not…” or “You don’t act…” Perception of queer identities have been conflated with negative stereotypes around Hijras, a distinct and often misunderstood trans community in South Asia. Hijras, who have historically held a unique cultural and spiritual role, are frequently associated with exaggerated gender roles and are marginalized due to their nonconformity to binary gender expectations. These stereotypes fuel exclusion and mistreatment, reinforcing the idea that non-heteronormative identities are inherently “deviant.”
The lack of understanding of what queerness even is or can look like may stem from a colonial legacy, but is perpetuated by a lack of understanding, partly due to neglected sex education in schools. The curriculum, if any, reinforces heteronormative ideals, contributing to harmful perceptions of queerness, leaving many to discover their identities in secret and confusion. Keshav, a UCLA student, shared that only when reading about attraction in a biology textbook in middle school did he realize he did not fit the norm of heterosexuality. This gap in education not only breeds confusion but also isolates queer folks, forcing them to navigate their identities in solitude. Keshav shared that he too found it easier to navigate homophobia by “being the smart kid and helping people with their homework.” The lack of representation and education builds environments where queerness is misunderstood or erased, leaving people like Keshav to rely on coping mechanisms, like education, to navigate societal prejudices. Addressing this gap is crucial – not only to create spaces where queer youth feel seen and understood but also to challenge the deeply ingrained stigma that perpetuates isolation and silence.
For South Asian immigrants in the U.S., homophobia continues to intersect with cultural dynamics shaped by colonial legacies. That, combined with the added stressors of racism and xenophobia, create complex challenges. Parimal shared that even after coming out, his family’s concerns were more about maintaining societal appearances than prioritizing his happiness – a sentiment echoed by other interviewees as well. The preoccupation with preserving social reputation can reflect deeply ingrained cultural values rooted in collectivism. While collective values help nurture community, they can push for sacrificing individual well being to maintain family reputation. Norms like arranged marriage – which were more rigidly redefined during colonial rule – continue to persist across generations and geographic boundaries. For queer and trans South Asians in the Western world, these intersecting experiences culminate into a complex struggle of reconciling various identities with differing pressures and expectations.
Intersectionality of Queerness and South Asian Identities
Despite campaigning for inclusion, many queer spaces – including those at UCLA – brush past intersecting identities of race, class, and more, thus ignoring the relevant cultural complexities of the Desi queer experience. Deepak shared how embracing his queerness was extremely difficult, even in countries that are more accepting of queer identities. As the only immigrant and person of color in many of his social circles, he often felt like an outsider – not just because of his queerness, but due to his racial and cultural identity. The lack of understanding from others, coupled with the pressure to conform to a predominantly white society, made it even harder for him to be open about his sexuality.
Meanwhile, South Asian spaces at UCLA often perpetuate the homophobia embedded in South Asian communities. ShaQTI, UCLA’s only LGBTQIA+ South Asian organization at UCLA, circulated a survey to gauge how safe and welcome LGBTQIA+ South Asian students feel at UCLA in various spaces. The results were unanimous: participants did not feel safe nor welcome sharing their queerness in South Asian circles at UCLA.
Community and Belonging: The Power of Shared Spaces
For many queer South Asians, finding community has been a turning point in their journeys toward self-acceptance. Organizations like Trikone in the Bay Area and Desi Rainbow in Atlanta provide spaces where queer and trans South Asians can connect without the added stress of navigating predominantly white LGBTQIA+ spaces. These spaces foster authenticity and allow individuals to celebrate both their cultural heritage and their queer identities.
Vishnu described South Asian queer spaces as places where he could let his guard down and simply exist without fear of judgment or the need to explain himself. This sense of belonging is critical in countering the isolation that many queer South Asians experience, particularly when grappling with the dual pressures of immigrant and racial stress and societal expectations.
At UCLA, student organizations like ShaQTI create similar environments. These spaces allow students to explore their identities, often for the first time in their lives, without fear of judgment. However, challenges persist. While members were tabling for ShaQTI on Bruin Walk in November of 2023, someone walking by yelled a slur at them. Beside moments of outright homophobia, lack of knowledge and sincere support for the club has hindered efforts to build community. Even in more inclusive environments, true acceptance and allyship remains a work in progress.
Media, Representation, and Shifting Perspectives
Representation in media has played a significant role in helping younger queer and trans South Asians understand and embrace their identities. In recent years, media representation and social media has amplified queer voices and narratives, allowing people across geographic and generation divides share stories, find themselves, and build community.
Legal progress in South Asia offers glimpses of hope for LGBTQIA+ rights. The 2018 repeal of Section 377 by India’s Supreme Court marked a historic step forward, while Nepal, as early as 2007, became the first country in the world to legally recognize LGBTQIA+ rights, prohibiting discrimination and mandating a third gender category on official documents. These advances stand in stark contrast to many other South Asian countries, where queerness remains criminalized, with punishments ranging from imprisonment to, in Afghanistan, the death penalty. While legal victories are causes for celebration, cultural changes remain crucial for lasting progress.
Representation in films, television, and public spaces plays a critical role in normalizing queerness. When we see people like us on the screens in front of us, we often find the courage to explore those parts of our identities. When one person finds the courage to embrace their queerness publicly, a domino effect occurs, inspiring those around them to challenge their own views and accept themselves. Deepak shared how younger family members who grew up seeing him and his partner together now view queer relationships with acceptance, offering hope for a more inclusive future. This ripple effect shows the power of representation in battling prejudice and cultivating acceptance. By challenging ingrained biases and normalizing queerness within families and communities, stories like Deepak’s pave the way for a more hopeful future. While legal progress lays the foundation, it is these personal and cultural shifts that build a truly inclusive society.
Hopes for the Future
Balancing cultural expectations with queer identities continues to be a challenge. Even in environments like UCLA, where people have more freedom to explore their identities, familial pressures often linger. Many queer South Asians must navigate questions about marriage and children, illustrating the ongoing tension between personal authenticity and societal norms.
Interviewees expressed hope that greater representation and education will continue to challenge stereotypes and foster acceptance. Queer-inclusive spaces in schools and diverse portrayals in media were highlighted as essential for reducing stigma and promoting understanding. Community organizations and safe spaces remain critical in fostering connection and providing refuge from cultural and societal pressures.
For queer South Asians, the journey to living authentically is shaped by resilience, community, and hope. Organizations, shared spaces, and increased visibility in media are paving the way for a more inclusive future. While challenges remain, these shifts offer a glimpse into a world where no one has to choose between their identity and their culture. Deepak’s nieces and nephews, who grew up seeing him and his partner together, have a much more accepting view of queerness than previous generations. Their normalization of queer relationships offers a glimpse into what the future might hold: a world where queerness is not only accepted but celebrated.
