Dear BLOG! reading person,
I have to warn you early enough today. This letter you see before you is actually a rant. A long winded-one at that. So, if you’re in no mood to listen to me rant (again), you can leave. I seriously don’t want any more e-mails detailing just why do I rant and what’s so wrong with it. Now that all the troll-people have gone, let’s get on with our usual LadyBusiness shall we?
It comes as no surprise that I love watch mind-numbingly horrid T.V. shows; it’s a real problem with no visible cure. So today, while I fed my weekly need to pierce my eyeballs out addiction, something terrible happened. It happened. Indian T.V. has finally managed to completely repulse me by just a three-minute dance performance. Every time I see something terrible, I promise myself I won’t watch the show again. Sure enough, next week I am on my position on the couch, waiting for the horror to unfold.
This show I talk of is called ‘Zara Nachke Dikha’ which is probably the Indian version of ‘Dancing With The Stars’ — only the stars are divided into two teams : Men Vs Women. This week the theme was ‘fusion’. This is an opportunity for the contestants to mix Western and traditional Indian dance styles. Apparently contestant Siddhesh Pai interpreted this theme to ‘fusing genders’. Just peachy.
The dance performance is set to an ‘item-number’ genre of song (These songs are typically identified with courtesans and prostitutes), where the contestant is dressed as a woman first and then quickly changes back to his usual masculine self. As it is a ‘second-grade’ song, this gender subversion is ignored. The audience looks at the dancing prowess of the contestant, how effortlessly he dances like a woman, how equally effortlessly he changes to his shiny silver costume, giving out a ton of dude-ittude one moment, shifting to feminine seduction next. This can possibly be an extremely warped version of Woolf’s Orlando on an alternate universe. You can hear people cheering, the judges laughing, while I seethed in fury from my position in front of the T.V.
This is certainly not the first time transgender and trans-sexual identities have been an object of ridicule. It’s de rigueur for stand up comedians and script-writers to use trans-sexuality as a joke. After all, transsexuals in India are nothing but a joke. A man who actually has LadyBits? Or a woman who is born with the cumbersome male-appendage? Nothing provides better fodder for jokes and mockathons. They are called hijra and chakka — derogatory words that symbolise their “incomplete-ness”.
The trans-sexual community is a grossly marginalised one; people literally walk away when they see them. We see them at road signals, dressed in sarees, walking in packs of two’s and three’s. They beg for money, tease the taxi driver, laugh and walk away. As a child, I was scared of them mainly because I didn’t know who they were. When my mum explained to me that they were “half and half”, I realised they were people too.
Finish reading at Womanist Musings here.