Beyond hijra: Recognition for transgender Bangladeshis

In late 2013, Bangladesh passed a law identifying hijra people as the "third gender" (tritiyo lingo). Hijra people are a subculture where people who are typically identified as male live as females. But it's likely that the estimated hijra population (10,000 individuals) did not encompass all the transgender people in Bangladesh. They number as many as 7.92 million people, and I bet the rest could use some rights and protections.

Hijras are a traditional quasi-spiritual subculture, often organized into communities led by gurus. They are one example of how people outside the male-female gender dichotomy can live. But this gender category is broader than just hijras. Around the world, many different cultures include people who have a body that fits with the description of one gender, but feel that their mind and soul are best described as the other gender, or as a combination of male and female. Collectively, these people may be described by the term transgender.

How many people in this nation of 153 million might be transgender? It is hard to say, because it is likely that most do not present themselves as their preferred gender. Various US institutions that study transgender people have estimated that they are 0.25% to 5% of the population. Those figures vary by a factor of 20, so they must be regarded as very rough. But if the transgender population of Bangladesh numbered somewhere within the same broad range, that would mean there are 396,000 to 7.92 million transgender people nationally.

The official estimate of hijra people is just 10,000 souls. That is, at most, 2.5% of the total likely transgender population of Bangladesh. The new law is a positive change, but what about protections or rights for the rest?

It is easy to imagine that the life of these folks is difficult. Hijras and all transgender people seem to enjoy little cultural acceptance here. "I am so scared of them," one commenter wrote on a previous bdnews24.com opinion piece about the new law. Perhaps that is not surprising in Bangladesh, with its socially conservative culture. Perhaps it is understandable, too, that many people do not know much about a group who are 5% of the overall population or less.

The author of the earlier bdnews24.com opinion piece repeatedly urged commenters to "make friends" with someone transgender. This was a well-intended idea, presumably, as familiarity does breed acceptance. But the idea wasn't attached to any realistic suggestions of how to leap from fear to friendship, or where to locate closeted transgender people without threatening their safety-preserving anonymity.

Perhaps it would make a little more sense to have an ally describe some experiences with transgender people. In my own country, I have known these folks at work, school and home for years. Here are a few of my own notes.

When I was a student in 2005, I lived in a house where a transman lived. (He was a person who was first identified as female but later identified as a man.) He was a photography student and a community center worker. He was short, quiet, and funny, with an almost excessively kind-hearted attitude towards stray cats.

He also had a soft spot for people. He often asked me to allow other young transgender people to spend the night at our house. This was about meeting a basic need. Young transgender people are often homeless, since family, landlords, and employers often don't accept them. Often, these young people had no option but sleeping outdoors – in a city where temperatures can be brutally cold. So my roommate and I let guests stay in our living room. No one ever caused a problem, and some were quite polite. In Bangladesh, I've heard strange rumours of hijras stealing little boys, and it always makes me think of the transgender student who accidentally picked up my scarf along with her coat when she left one morning – and returned it with profuse apologies a few hours later, without my ever realising it had been gone. Some transgender people might be thieves, but that one sure wasn't.

Years later, I worked in a homeless shelter which allowed transgender youth to stay (as well as other homeless young people). I often listened to transgender youth describe the violent attacks they endured because of their gender identities. They were scared, and I felt scared for them. I noticed how eager they seemed for what they lacked: they described their complex relationships with other youth as "families."

There have been other transgender people in my life. One was a schoolteacher and member of my religious community. Some were seminarians studying to become priests. Some were my co-workers or fellow students. One was my boss. He was a really great boss.

Overall, they were no nicer or meaner or smarter or dumber than anyone else I have known. They weren't weirder than the rest of society. They were ordinary, complete individuals, not just genders.

Bangladesh is quite different from America, of course. Still-mostly-invisible transgender people in Bangladesh have their own ways of being, separate from Americans. But they are certainly complete people too. Like hijras and everyone else in Bangladesh – Hindus and Buddhists and adibashi and disabled people and every other kind of person – transgender Bangladeshis should have equality. They should have what young people, co-workers, bosses, priests, and students in America should have: health, safety, well-being, homes, recognition, and social acceptance.

As an ally, I can speak only for my own limited experience. The best thing would be if transgender people (and all people) get to speak up on their own behalf. Legal status as an identified minority could be a helpful part of making that possible for transgender people. For that reason, the new legal status of hijra people should be revised to include the broader, invisible, numerically-indeterminate Bangladeshi transgender population.

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M. Sophia Newman, MPH, is a freelance writer and a public health researcher specialising in mental health.