Queer issues not a primary consideration

We were particularly interested in finding out whether LGBTQIA+ people were leaning in favour of the Bharatiya Janata Party (BJP) or the Indian National Developmental Inclusive Alliance (INDIA) bloc, which had emerged as the two biggest contenders. Out of the 32 respondents, 24 said they had voted for the INDIA bloc, while 7 had voted for the BJP. 

It was particularly challenging to secure queer BJP voters to speak on the record. Some agreed to be interviewed but did not respond to our follow-ups, and some spoke to us casually about their choices but declined to be on record.  “The LGBT+ community is dominated by leftist ideology, leaving other perspectives unheard,” said AS, a medical doctor from Gujarat who transitioned in 2018 and has been a lifelong supporter of the BJP. AS explained that many queer BJP supporters did not feel safe sharing their views with journalists because they thought that the journalists will not present their views fairly. They also perceived that “loud leftist voices [will] overpower the other side, [so] why bother?” said AS. 

Ankit Bhuptani, a Mumbai-based gay man and founder of the Queer Hindu Alliance, an advocacy and support group for queer Hindus, echoed AS’s sentiment. He offered to ask members of his group to participate in our call for interviews, but later told us that most wouldn’t like to interact with us due to the kind of negative attention openly queer BJP supporters tend to receive from other queer people.

So, based on the demographic who spoke to us, we found that ideological affiliation, along with other intersecting factors like caste and religion, seems to override a voter’s queer identity. The most significant finding from our interviews was that queer voters largely do not vote based on queer issues. 72 percent (23 out of 32) of the people we spoke to said that a party or candidate’s stance on LGBTQIA+ issues was not their main consideration while voting.  

“Queer identity is just one aspect of a person's life, and many factors influence voting decisions,” said Vyjayanti Vasanta Mogli, a 45-year-old dominant caste trans woman and RTI activist from Telangana who has been working for the LGBTQIA+ rights since 2012. “Queer individuals might support candidates who are queer or transphobic if those candidates have a strong track record in areas like public sanitation, healthcare, or other important issues, regardless of their stance on queer issues.”

Most of our interviewees aligned with this line of reasoning. Tanmay Mathur, a 24-year-old dominant caste gay man from Faridabad, Haryana, said he would have opposed the BJP even if he wasn’t queer because of  “the way they violate rules of procedure and undermine the Constitution. I want a government that is accountable to the people, which the BJP is not.” 

Tanmay’s reference to the BJP’s undermining the constitution was an allusion to the party’s frequent attempts to bypass parliamentary procedure in passing unpopular legislations. The most high profile example of this was the Farm Bills of 2020, which were passed as ordinances—therefore not requiring a vote—and withdrawn a year later in the face of massive protests. He was also unhappy with the abrogation of Article 370 of the Indian constitution, removing the special status enjoyed by the state of Jammu & Kashmir. The state did not have an elected government at the time, meaning the abrogation was executed without the consent of the people and their representatives.

On the other hand, for Abhishek Chakraborty, a 33-year-old dominant caste trans woman from West Bengal, the most important factor is a party’s track record in fulfilling its manifesto promises. They said, “I voted for the BJP in 2019 because I liked that they were following through on what they said. They might not always do the right thing, but they complete their manifesto. That is one of the biggest things. They said they will make Ram Mandir, they made Ram Mandir. I am in favor of it because it is a slap to  Islamic radicalism.”

Along with the abrogation of Article 370, the construction of the Ram Mandir in Ayodhya is a long-standing campaign promise of the BJP, dating back many decades, which was fulfilled in its last term. The temple is controversial because it was constructed on the site of the Babri Masjid, which was demolished by Hindu mobs in 1992. In its 2019 judgement that paved the way for the creation of the temple, the Supreme Court held that there was no conclusive evidence suggesting that the site was the birthplace of Ram.

Some of our interviewees said they saw themselves as human, Indian, and queer in that order and that their voting choices are based on this understanding.

Akash Agarwal, 35, a cis-gay man and hotel owner from Dharamshala, Himachal Pradesh, explained that he voted for the BJP because he believes they were more efficient at implementation of projects at the local level. He is a business owner and his concerns as a voter, he said, stem primarily from that identity. “In 2014, I voted for the BJP after seeing news channels focus on the corruption and scams during Congress's 10-year rule. Between the 2014 and 2019 elections, I visited my cousin in Surat and noticed Safai Karamcharis cleaning the streets at 3:30 am—before the sun was even up. I was very impressed because in Dharamshala I saw heaps of garbage in front of the store until 10 or 11 am.”

Caste or religious marginalisation trumps queerness

While mainstream culture often views the LGBTQIA+ community as a unified group, the reality is that caste, class, and religion shape queer people’s lives as much as anyone else’s. 75 percent of those we interviewed (24 out of 32) perceive a lack of solidarity within the LGBTQIA+ community. 

In our sample, some queer folks who belong to marginalised castes or religions chose parties who are safeguarding the interests of their communities, irrespective of those parties’ stance on queer issues. Among our 32 interviewees, nine people identified as members of marginalised classes, castes, and religions. 

Prachi Pratap, 31, is a therapist from Uttar Pradesh and identifies as a cis queer woman. She said, “As a Hindu OBC [member of the Other Backward Classes], I don’t prioritise my queer identity when voting, because no party truly addresses it.” The OBC category, created in 1990, includes a number of castes that have been historically oppressed. Though OBCs account for the largest share of the Indian population—52 percent according to the Mandal Commission—they are severely underrepresented in government employment and educational institutions.

“Though the Congress now includes civil unions in their manifesto and the BJP passed the Trans Act , I  voted for the Samajwadi Party, as my family traditionally supports them,” said Prachi. “I also consider how parties treat other marginalised communities, OBCs, and their stance on issues like housing, food security, and climate change. Queer identity doesn’t factor in as much—while it affects employment and living conditions, I prioritise caste, class, and religion before thinking about queer rights.”

Arathi M.R., a 29 year old bisexual Dalit woman from Kerala, shares a similar perspective. As a full-time journalist, she said, “When I’m voting, I consider [myself] a Dalit woman first. When I compare the two identities of caste and queerness, my caste identity triumphs in importance to me.” 

Faisal (name changed), a 32-year-old dominant caste Muslim trans man from Uttar Pradesh, told us that the fear of being persecuted for his religious identity is the biggest consideration he makes when deciding whom to vote for. “For me, it's like the saying ‘Aage kuhaan, peeche khai’ (caught between a rock and a hard place). I need to protect parts of my identity because the environment feels so threatening. If I had to choose a party, I'd go with Congress—not because they've excelled, but because it gives me some peace, or at least the illusion of peace, that I won't be targeted for my Muslim identity. That's why I've chosen the INC.”

This experience is shared by another Muslim man from Bangalore. Mujeer Pasha, a 34-year-old cisgender gay man from a dominant caste in the Muslim community, said, “The direct threat I face is to my Muslim identity, and I still vote based on my Muslim identity rather than my queer identity. There is not enough representation for Muslims within the queer community, and we don't have a gay Muslim community in Bengaluru, where I live.”

The 2024 elections have returned the lowest proportion of Muslim MPs—just 4.4 percent—in Indian history, with the BJP having no Muslims amongst its 240. Since 2014, BJP governments, both at the center and the state, have targeted the community with laws that restrict their ways of life. Muslims have become frequent targets of mob violence, with the police and courts unable or unwilling to protect them.

No unified queer vote bank

While the majority of the people we spoke to did not vote based on issues relevant to their queer identity, those that did were spread across voting lines. 

“My queer identity shows up in most spaces, even in [the electoral] space,” said Priya Dali, a dominant caste, assigned-female non-binary artist based in Mumbai. She felt that the BJP’s Hindutva agenda had alienated many marginalised communities.  “I went to vote with an awareness that the BJP wasn’t an option at all. I had to pick the lesser evil right now. When I was at the polling booth, I felt invisible physically as an identity and as a person. There were no people who looked outside the binary.”

Aakruti Patel, a 36-year-old trans woman from Gujarat who works with MIST, a Pune-based LGBTQIA+ support organisation, also votes from her queer identity but she voted for the BJP. “I see that there have continuously been developments for transgender women under the BJP that have not happened under any other party. In Vadodara, Gujarat particularly, the BJP has invited prominent transgender women activists for discussions and listened to our demands. It is thanks to the BJP that there is respect for transgender women in Gujarat. Since the Trans Rights Act was passed, more people from the community have been able to come out and accept themselves and access necessary healthcare services. All the development that has happened for my community, I have seen it happen under the BJP, so why would I want to vote against that?”

While the passing of the Trans Rights Act came up repeatedly in our interviews as a sign of the BJP government’s interest in improving trans lives, the ground reality doesn’t quite match up. “The government didn’t pass the Trans Act in 2019 out of concern for the community. It was simply a directive from the Supreme Court under NALSA,” said Yash Deep (name changed), a 32-year-old dominant caste trans man from Meerut who has worked with the ruling BJP government on trans issues. Yash added, “In my work on the Act’s implementation, from coordinators to district magistrates, no one cares—they're just doing the bare legal minimum.”

Another noteworthy, but somewhat expected, nugget in our survey was that 81 percent (26 out of 32) of the people we interviewed said that they did not see the queer community as a relevant vote bank for political parties.

L. Ramakrishnan , an integrative biologist by training, works in public health with the NGO SAATHII, and volunteers as a peer supporter with the queer community collective Orinam in Chennai. He links the community not being seen as a vote bank despite their significant numerical strength to the stigma attached to being queer:

Ramakrishnan said, “If we go by the Supreme Court number, 8% [of the population] is a sizable vote bank, but in my experience, I feel that about 80 to 90% of queer people are still closeted because it's still a stigma, and what we need to do to for that vote bank is to create an environment where people could come out safely. In a household that is Muslim or Dalit, you have an identity that is shared with your family, unlike a queer person, who might be exiled in their own house, and that means that no amount of government incentives will make them come out.”

However, the lack of safety and visibility may not be the only factors contributing to queer people not being seen as a vote bank. Indrajeet, a 32-year-old gay man based in New Delhi and co-founder of the LGBTQIA+ news page Yes We Exist said that political parties are careful not to alienate or anger their existing voter base which means they prioritise only those identities within the community that they can present as congruent with their ideology.

Arvind Narrain, a lawyer and co-founder of the Alternative Law Forum, suggests that while the BJP-led government has, over the past decade, supported or at least not opposed certain LGBTQIA+ causes, they are unlikely to ever embrace the entire queer community in all its diversity as a vote bank because of potential conflicts with their core ideology. “The BJP is more comfortable with the transfeminine community, as it aligns with traditional identities rooted in Hindu culture, unlike other transgender identities. This kind of stance was evident in the courts—they didn’t oppose decriminalising Section 377 since it didn’t challenge their political identity. However, they opposed marriage equality, as it conflicts with their vision of the family.” 

Some of the people we spoke to looked inwards to explain why the community might not be seen as a vote bank. Prijith P.K, 34,  is a cis-gay Dalit man from Trivandrum who works on diversity and inclusion in a government project. He links the lack of solidarity within queer circles to its political irrelevance. “Inequality within the community prevents us from showcasing solidarity,” said Prijith. “The lack of political literacy inside the community prevents us from uniting.”

Given this status quo, what does the political future of the LGBTQIA+ community look like? 

For Anish Gawande,  a 28-year-old politician associated with the Nationalist Congress Party (Sharadchandara Pawar), the key lies in building solidarity around the queer identity. “Queerness in India has failed to create politics of care,” said Gawande, who is the first openly gay national spokesperson for the NCP (SP). “When you vote from your queer identity you vote for other queer people also. The first prerequisite for a queer voter is to build connections across caste and class lines. Rage is not sustainable, joy is—creating space for queer joy in the politics of care will define how we politically organise as a queer voters.”

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