Interview: Santa Khurai, author, The Yellow Sparrow – “Telling these stories is a way to save the lives of many like me”

Writing is my passion and I always wanted to share my story with the public as there were instances where people weren’t ready to listen to my lived experiences. In the journey to find myself, I was all alone and felt low for a prolonged period of time. Hence, writing my diary became my solace not because I wanted to publish it some day but because I wanted an outlet for my voice. Finally, when I decided to write my memoir, these diaries helped me to revisit memories and that’s how The Yellow Sparrow was born. The title is actually from one of my poems, which is written in a long narrative form, and is based on a difficult point in my life when I had an intense fight with my father and my mother tried to intervene. Eventually, we stopped fighting and I came out to sit in the courtyard under a short mango tree while my mother sat in the verandah. We had put some paddy on a mat in the sun and sparrows were trying to eat it. My mother was trying to shoo them away using the hem of her shawl and all the sparrows flew away except one. I tried to get closer and realized that one of its wings was broken and that’s why it wasn’t flying. I related a lot to the sparrow’s situation and took care of it. That’s how I came up with the poem. I imagined its situation if it had been yellow and its mother, horrified by how different it was, tried her best to hide the baby bird’s true colours by plucking out its feathers. That’s how it was with my mother, who tried to hide me from society as I was feminine. Eventually, she was unable to hide my true colours and I came out as the strong-willed woman I am.

Writing has always been one of my passions and it has also been a way that has helped me stay strong in the most vulnerable situations. Yes, I had several thoughts before putting down those vulnerable moments and incidents that happened in my life. However, I also felt responsible about revealing those stories to the public. If I didn’t tell them, who would? The vulnerability that I faced in the context of my gender identity and in the expression of my ethnic identity would be erased forever. Telling those stories by putting my life at risk is one way to save and protect the lives of many like me. Hence, I decided to put everything in the memoirs.

In your book, you’ve talked about how your desire to be a beautiful strong woman outlived the constant violence that you endured not just from your family but also the armed forces in Manipur. How do you see this dichotomy in queer lives?

For queer people the situation is always a bit paradoxical. When a queer individual is born in a conflicted zone then their problems also increase tremendously. During the 1990s, growing up in Imphal was beautiful but the day belonged to the cis-het community. We used to meet at night and claim it as our day. When AFSPA grew stronger, it largely affected our community building process as we were even targeted during the night. I was beaten up by the security forces on multiple occasions and the trauma remains with me till date. The derogatory terms they used for me severely affected my mental health and took away a lot of my confidence. This also negatively influenced my activism and pushed me back. I still carry that fear with me. Even recently, the police came to my house without women police personnel to intimidate me. I have also heard from fellow transgender women, who have their own beauty parlours, that they have been asked for sexual favours in exchange for being allowed to run their business. We are not sex machines and we have our own desires and everyone needs to respect that.

You’ve talked about surviving an abusive marriage in your book. Unfortunately, violence in queer relationships is quite common in India. What is your message to the community about this?

To be honest, I cannot speak for others about coming out of such abusive relationships as they are generally structural in nature. In my case, my husband lived with me peacefully for quite some time, almost seven years, and then suddenly became violent towards me. I tried to understand the reason behind it and then heard that the neighbours and his friends would taunt him and question his manliness as he was living with me. He was from Assam, so in the initial years, he couldn’t understand what others were saying but after he learnt to speak Manipuri fluently, he understood what was being said about our relationship and the insults directed at him, specifically from men. Many called him “homo gi mawa” meaning “homo’s husband” and that really hurt his male ego and made him ashamed. Often, he’d tell me that I had a fake vagina as the local men told him that I was a man who later got a plastic vagina. Hearing their comments, he chose to pour his frustration on me and forced himself upon me. I was raped. My husband wasn’t an educated person but society filled his mind with hatred against me. They told him that I would eventually leave him because I’m not an “original” woman (a term that’s used against trans women). I was able to file a case against him in the women’s police department but I wonder what would happen if someone didn’t have that privilege. I believe we need legal protection as well as social transitions to make the situation better for all. With legal rights, we will be able to avail several securities that come with them. It is equally important to note that apart from marriage, we also need to celebrate friendships.

While translated works are being appreciated a lot, translations from the northeastern states are quite rare. What would you like to say to the emerging translators and publishers about this?

There are plenty of writers and trans writers in the North East but we require support from the literary community at large. Getting a translator to translate our work is a difficulty that I also faced. Before Rubani came into the picture, the manuscript was with another translator, who kept it with her for almost five years, and then, when I finally decided to change the translator, she sent me a legal notice alleging breach of trust. I decided that I needed to fight for my own story and after getting some legal advice, I started fighting back. I got support from multiple sections of Manipuri society but she still wasn’t ready to give back my manuscript and kept on harassing me over email. People who are privileged think they can take advantage of us but I wasn’t going to allow it. The incident affected my will to write but, in the end, I came across Rubani , who translated my story beautifully. Translators need to have a sensitivity towards the story. In my case, it was necessary that they be trans-affirmative. It was necessary for them to be with my story for a long time and be able to translate the essence of it. It’s time that bigger publications reach out to trans-authors as they will bring forth a kind of literature that has been pushed into oblivion for too long. We need to encourage diverse stories – not just for the sake of them being diverse – but also because they represent different shades of Indian society.

Since the past few months, Manipur has seen widespread violence. As an indigenous Meitei Nupi Maanbi activist who has been working on the ground for years, what has been your experience?

It has been very difficult. I have a different opinion about this sudden surge of violence in the state and have been meaning to write about it on social media but haven’t been able to do so. All of us are feeling like refugees in our own homeland and as someone who has been working with different ethnic communities, such a conflict complicates the situation for me. I was at the office when the violence first broke out. And while there were instances where the community came together to help each other, eventually divisive politics was able to divide us too. The situation in relief camps is not good for the transgender community. But it is extremely important that, in difficult times, we rekindle the love and trust we have in each other irrespective of whatever community we come from. This can happen only when the state comes forward and does not stay silent.

Manipur is home to many indigenous communities and for every transgender person, Imphal is a comfort hub. Unfortunately, the recent ethnic riots have instilled fear in the transgender community whose members belong to different ethnic identities. This has introduced a neurosis that questions identity and transness, which have been built with care, support, love and trust. The ethnic riots have damaged the solidarity of the community that has been built over the last 20 years. For the first time, many of our transgender brothers and sisters, both from hill and valley, have experienced feelings of “homelessness”. Hopefully, the community will rediscover lost love and trust by looking beyond the dichotomies of victim/perpetrator and continue to nurture the transgender commune.

Chittajit Mitra (he/him) is a queer writer, translator and editor from Allahabad. He is co-founder of RAQS, an organization working on gender, sexuality and mental health.

What inspired you to write your story and include even your most vulnerable moments?

Writing is my passion and I always wanted to share my story with the public as there were instances where people weren’t ready to listen to my lived experiences. In the journey to find myself, I was all alone and felt low for a prolonged period of time. Hence, writing my diary became my solace not because I wanted to publish it some day but because I wanted an outlet for my voice. Finally, when I decided to write my memoir, these diaries helped me to revisit memories and that’s how The Yellow Sparrow was born. The title is actually from one of my poems, which is written in a long narrative form, and is based on a difficult point in my life when I had an intense fight with my father and my mother tried to intervene. Eventually, we stopped fighting and I came out to sit in the courtyard under a short mango tree while my mother sat in the verandah. We had put some paddy on a mat in the sun and sparrows were trying to eat it. My mother was trying to shoo them away using the hem of her shawl and all the sparrows flew away except one. I tried to get closer and realized that one of its wings was broken and that’s why it wasn’t flying. I related a lot to the sparrow’s situation and took care of it. That’s how I came up with the poem. I imagined its situation if it had been yellow and its mother, horrified by how different it was, tried her best to hide the baby bird’s true colours by plucking out its feathers. That’s how it was with my mother, who tried to hide me from society as I was feminine. Eventually, she was unable to hide my true colours and I came out as the strong-willed woman I am.

Writing has always been one of my passions and it has also been a way that has helped me stay strong in the most vulnerable situations. Yes, I had several thoughts before putting down those vulnerable moments and incidents that happened in my life. However, I also felt responsible about revealing those stories to the public. If I didn’t tell them, who would? The vulnerability that I faced in the context of my gender identity and in the expression of my ethnic identity would be erased forever. Telling those stories by putting my life at risk is one way to save and protect the lives of many like me. Hence, I decided to put everything in the memoirs.

In your book, you’ve talked about how your desire to be a beautiful strong woman outlived the constant violence that you endured not just from your family but also the armed forces in Manipur. How do you see this dichotomy in queer lives?

For queer people the situation is always a bit paradoxical. When a queer individual is born in a conflicted zone then their problems also increase tremendously. During the 1990s, growing up in Imphal was beautiful but the day belonged to the cis-het community. We used to meet at night and claim it as our day. When AFSPA grew stronger, it largely affected our community building process as we were even targeted during the night. I was beaten up by the security forces on multiple occasions and the trauma remains with me till date. The derogatory terms they used for me severely affected my mental health and took away a lot of my confidence. This also negatively influenced my activism and pushed me back. I still carry that fear with me. Even recently, the police came to my house without women police personnel to intimidate me. I have also heard from fellow transgender women, who have their own beauty parlours, that they have been asked for sexual favours in exchange for being allowed to run their business. We are not sex machines and we have our own desires and everyone needs to respect that.

You’ve talked about surviving an abusive marriage in your book. Unfortunately, violence in queer relationships is quite common in India. What is your message to the community about this?

To be honest, I cannot speak for others about coming out of such abusive relationships as they are generally structural in nature. In my case, my husband lived with me peacefully for quite some time, almost seven years, and then suddenly became violent towards me. I tried to understand the reason behind it and then heard that the neighbours and his friends would taunt him and question his manliness as he was living with me. He was from Assam, so in the initial years, he couldn’t understand what others were saying but after he learnt to speak Manipuri fluently, he understood what was being said about our relationship and the insults directed at him, specifically from men. Many called him “homo gi mawa” meaning “homo’s husband” and that really hurt his male ego and made him ashamed. Often, he’d tell me that I had a fake vagina as the local men told him that I was a man who later got a plastic vagina. Hearing their comments, he chose to pour his frustration on me and forced himself upon me. I was raped. My husband wasn’t an educated person but society filled his mind with hatred against me. They told him that I would eventually leave him because I’m not an “original” woman (a term that’s used against trans women). I was able to file a case against him in the women’s police department but I wonder what would happen if someone didn’t have that privilege. I believe we need legal protection as well as social transitions to make the situation better for all. With legal rights, we will be able to avail several securities that come with them. It is equally important to note that apart from marriage, we also need to celebrate friendships.

While translated works are being appreciated a lot, translations from the northeastern states are quite rare. What would you like to say to the emerging translators and publishers about this?

There are plenty of writers and trans writers in the North East but we require support from the literary community at large. Getting a translator to translate our work is a difficulty that I also faced. Before Rubani came into the picture, the manuscript was with another translator, who kept it with her for almost five years, and then, when I finally decided to change the translator, she sent me a legal notice alleging breach of trust. I decided that I needed to fight for my own story and after getting some legal advice, I started fighting back. I got support from multiple sections of Manipuri society but she still wasn’t ready to give back my manuscript and kept on harassing me over email. People who are privileged think they can take advantage of us but I wasn’t going to allow it. The incident affected my will to write but, in the end, I came across Rubani , who translated my story beautifully. Translators need to have a sensitivity towards the story. In my case, it was necessary that they be trans-affirmative. It was necessary for them to be with my story for a long time and be able to translate the essence of it. It’s time that bigger publications reach out to trans-authors as they will bring forth a kind of literature that has been pushed into oblivion for too long. We need to encourage diverse stories – not just for the sake of them being diverse – but also because they represent different shades of Indian society.

Since the past few months, Manipur has seen widespread violence. As an indigenous Meitei Nupi Maanbi activist who has been working on the ground for years, what has been your experience?

It has been very difficult. I have a different opinion about this sudden surge of violence in the state and have been meaning to write about it on social media but haven’t been able to do so. All of us are feeling like refugees in our own homeland and as someone who has been working with different ethnic communities, such a conflict complicates the situation for me. I was at the office when the violence first broke out. And while there were instances where the community came together to help each other, eventually divisive politics was able to divide us too. The situation in relief camps is not good for the transgender community. But it is extremely important that, in difficult times, we rekindle the love and trust we have in each other irrespective of whatever community we come from. This can happen only when the state comes forward and does not stay silent.

Manipur is home to many indigenous communities and for every transgender person, Imphal is a comfort hub. Unfortunately, the recent ethnic riots have instilled fear in the transgender community whose members belong to different ethnic identities. This has introduced a neurosis that questions identity and transness, which have been built with care, support, love and trust. The ethnic riots have damaged the solidarity of the community that has been built over the last 20 years. For the first time, many of our transgender brothers and sisters, both from hill and valley, have experienced feelings of “homelessness”. Hopefully, the community will rediscover lost love and trust by looking beyond the dichotomies of victim/perpetrator and continue to nurture the transgender commune.

Chittajit Mitra (he/him) is a queer writer, translator and editor from Allahabad. He is co-founder of RAQS, an organization working on gender, sexuality and mental health.