For Maria, with love and pain
Remembering the bravery and vibrancy of a transgender activist who was brutally murdered last month.
"Hello Chetta [brother], I am Mariya. Sweet Maria”.This was how she introduced herself to me in a flamboyant red dress trailing behind her on the streets of Thrissur, during the first Pride March in Kerala two years back.
I was impressed by her sheer courage for walking the streets of Thrissur in that dress. While others were making hesitant steps to assert their identities in an extremely homophobic, transphobic and misogynist space, she marched with real pride.
Not just for that one day, but everyday of her life, she was that scandalous and vibrant. And she loved the attention she got for it. She would plan months ahead about what to wear for the next Pride March and get her dresses stitched in accordance. She had not had a sex change surgery, she spent most of her workdays in pants and a shirt [panthi satla], she was male bodied and unapologetically trans/queer identified.
Her gender was not expressed through her clothes or the pronouns she used. She was more fluid about gender. A juggler of identities. A gender queer performer. And what a performer she was! She would turn any situation into an assertion of her identity by making crude jokes that would shake others out of their heternormativity. Sometimes, even making them feel ashamed for being heterosexual!
Her amazing sense of humour and ready wit were her weapons against people who were disrespectful to her. And she won by just the power ofher crass humour [even if it was “politically incorrect”].
Maria [whose given name was Anil Sadanandan] was brutally murdered on May 10 in the harbour quarters of Thankassery, Kollam. Her colleagues went to look for her when she didn’t turn up for work as a toll collector and found her body inside her house. Her throat was slit and a U-shaped wound was found on her stomach. Chilli powder was smeared on her body and around it to prevent the sniffer dogs from picking up smells. Hair was found in her right hand. Her laptop and cell phones were also taken away by the murderers, in an obvious bid to throw off the police from the fact that this was a cold, calculated crime of hate. Possibly committed by multiple people.
The police first questioned the people from within the community, then there were some wild theories about her being HIV positive and transmitting it to others and of this being a retaliation. All these wild guesses seem implausible. Because, the Maria we knew would have certainly declared to all of us with all openness thatshe had tested positive for HIV. She had no notion of privacy. Gossip queen. Teller of secrets — her own and others. That was who she was. Dangerously open.
Most of us around her have, at times, felt unsafe and disturbed by how fearlessly open she was in everyday life. I remember the time when she took me to a Bata shoe store in Kollam, the young boys working there asked her what size she was [obviously referring to her feet]. She titillatingly raised her eyebrows, faked being morally affronted,and said — “I have come to check your sizes, how dare you ask a modest Mallu woman that question!” I didn’t know whether to run out of the shop or to stay back and laugh at the shocked expression on their faces.
Sweet, scandalous Maria, you have been taken away from us violently. Is this what we get for fearlessly questioning imposed genders and heterosexuality? Someone so vibrant and full of life is no longer with us, to march and joke and struggle by our side. Maria’s murder has shaken the spirit of the community to a large extent. But it should not lead to fear and further repression of who we are. The struggle must go on, against the regressive patriarchal forces that are trying to silence us.
We must demand a fair and speedy enquiry into her murder and bringing the culprits to book. The State and the legal system must ensure the protection of all minorities and vulnerable communities. The struggle for a safer world for all of us who are gender and sexual minorities to live in, must continue. All of us cannot be the queen or diva that Maria was. But we can all be comrades in the struggle. Maria fought for herself and all of us. Now it is our turn to fight for her and ourcommunities.
Gee Ameena Suleiman is a transgender man who works with people’s movements in Madhya Pradesh. He is part of LesBiT, an organisation for LBTpeople in Bangalore.