When told about the recent national seminar on ‘Transgenders and the Law’, Rose Venkatesan, speaking over the telephone from Chennai, says she’s heartened at the development. Then, she pauses to reflect.

“It’s not as easy as it may look, you know, social inclusion of transgenders… I know how it ‘should’ be. But what is my reality, in spite of being a celebrity hosting a TV show?”

Rose, 31, tries to answer her own question, with instances from her life, beginning with the trauma of being thrown out of her home, rather matter-of-factly, six years ago. In front of 50 relatives, Rose had come out as a transgender at a family function after her parents announced her engagement to a girl. She was Ramesh then, and became Rose just a year ago after undergoing a sex change operation.

Rose speaks with feeling about the years, a few of them spent denying her sexuality and trying to be ‘man enough’, a few more dreading the ‘hijra’ tag, and the rest trying to convince her parents that marriage wouldn’t ‘cure’ her. All her experiences, she says, points to only one reality for transgenders — that education, with a blind stubbornness to make it, is the only way out for them in Indian society. Rather, the only way in.

Feeling like a girl

“As a child, I loved applying make-up and felt comfortable playing with other girls, long after other boys my age stopped. To the world, I think my femininity went unnoticed till the ninth grade because I was a cute, plump boy. As for my mother… she pretended she didn’t notice.” says Rose.

The name-calling and verbal abuse started after Rose moved to a boys’ school from a co-ed one. As a defence mechanism, Rose “started behaving like a Ramesh must”.

But Ramesh fell in love with his oblivious male best friend. “The boy would confess his feelings for a girl, and I played the perfect confidante. Inside, I was bursting with questions about where I would go with my feelings,” says Rose. Her family got suspicious after her brother found a letter where ‘Ramesh’ had poured out his romantic feelings.

Trying to be gay

A state topper at the board exams, Rose had no trouble getting into Chennai’s Satyabhama Engineering College. There, she forced herself to fantasise about women because “there was no way I could be a hijra,” she says. Rose visited psychiatrists. “One said it was alright to feel that way, and I could do nothing with that information, because it was not all OK. Another said this was not normal and I must change - again a dead end. When I told him I suspected that I had gender identity disorder (a term I picked up on Oprah Winfrey’s show), he looked blank. I never saw him again.”

Moving to the US to study biomedical engineering should have been a liberating change for Rose, but it wasn’t. “I was in such a severe state of denial, that I ‘decided’ to try being gay because it was more acceptable than being a transgender,’ she says. Rose knows how futile it is now, but back then she befriended a series of gays before giving up.

Finally, she called up home to tell them she was a transgender, careful not to use the word hijra, as if it would change anything. But that was when her parents told her she was due to be engaged to a girl. “When I told them about my sexuality, they were devastated and chased astrologers and doctors who told them I would be “fine” after I came back and visited them.”

When Rose returned to India and began cross-dressing, her family hid her feminine attire in a bid to “cure” her. “They even suggested I marry and do ‘whatever I wanted’ on the side. I was disgusted. It deepened my resolve to show the world who I really was.”

It’s show timeOver the years, Rose had become aware of the absence of role models for the transgender community. So decided to become one herself. “After being kicked out of home, I started taking female hormones, and the next step towards being a woman was to be seen as one.”

A stereotypical portrayal of her community deterred Rose from films, and stage shows by transgenders didn’t appear as a respectable, mainstream option to her. Rose approached television channels with an idea for a show, but was ridiculed.

Finally, one channel accepted her proposal and the rest is history. Her show, Ippadikku Rose (Yours, Rose) made her an instant, bold celebrity who discusses difficult, taboo social issues. Rose’s struggles aren’t over though. “I may be a celebrity, but don’t assume I don’t get my share of backlash. Men drool over me, but I’ve been in two failed relationships. I have realised that here in India, men will go as far as dating, sex, may be even love, but they won’t take me home to their parents. They’ll marry a ‘real, proper’ girl.”

What next? Perhaps a stint in Bollywood, or a TV career in Canada, where she can find a man who accepts her and her sexuality, and is willing to adopt children.

Bringing her mind back to the seminar in Delhi, Rose says, “I hope it translates into something permanent, but before that, we need, for instance, transgender-friendly workplaces. The moment you come out, offices create situations that force us to resign. Where is a non-discrimination policy? Fair promotions, both in the public and private sectors would do us a world of good,” she says.

Rose also feels strongly about families who turn away their transgender children. “It should be punishable by law. A straight person has a better chance in the same situation. Had I not been educated, begging and prostitution may have been the only two choices…”

Other transgenders in the limelight

Queen of dance Abhijit takes on the name Abheena for his performances with his queer drag group, Dancing Queens, which performed in Mumbai for the first time last year. A communications specialist for John Hopkins University, Abhijit was outreach administrator at the Humsafar Trust. He is also an accomplished Kathak dancer.

All smiles Living Smile Vidya was born Saravana in Tamil Nadu and was one of the first in her community to release a book. I am Vidya was released in 2007 and spoke about Vidya’s dreams, her frustrations of being trapped in the wrong body and how her identity as a man was “an unfortunate accident”. Vidya actively blogs and contributes to local magazines.