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Exclusive – Rohin Bhatt on navigating queer rights in India

We spoke to the Gen Z lawyer and author about their ground-breaking debut book, the complexities of India’s LGBTQ+ movement, and why bridging law and activism is crucial.

Rohin Bhatt’s advocacy journey began at a pivotal moment in their life.

As a young law student coming to terms with their own identity, they found themselves deeply affected by the landmark legal decisions shaping India’s queer rights landscape.

β€˜I remember breaking down reading that [the Navtej Singh Johar case] had happened,’ they tell Thred, recalling the 2018 ruling that decriminalised homosexuality in India. β€˜I was hardly aware of my queerness. I had kind of come out to myself, but not to the world at large.’

This personal connection to the cause has fuelled Bhatt’s work, propelling them to the forefront of India’s queer rights movement as both a lawyer and an author.

Their debut book, The Urban Elite versus Union of India, is a blend of memoir and sharp legal analysis, arriving at a crucial juncture in the ongoing struggle for equality across the country.

It’s a unique window into the evolving landscape of queer rights in India, examining recent legal developments through professional insights and personal anecdotes.

A central theme is the Supreme Court’s recent refusal make same-sex marriage legal, which Bhatt argues is representative of an β€˜unfulfilled constitutional promise.’

β€˜When we gave unto ourselves the constitution, we made a promise to only constitute one class of citizens,’ they say.

 

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β€˜And all the people of India – irrespective of their caste, creed, gender, race, sexual orientation – were assured of three basic promises: equality, liberty, and fraternity.’

In Bhatt’s opinion, the Supreme Court’s decision falls short of this foundational principle and they warn of potentially far-reaching consequences.

β€˜If tomorrow Parliament were to enact a law that says inter-caste couples cannot marry or interfaith couples cannot marry… those legislations, if their decision is considered to be correct, are constitutionally permissible.’

Despite this criticism, however, Bhatt is pragmatic about the path forward. β€˜The arc of justice is long, but eventually it bends towards justice,’ they say, emphasising a need for persistent engagement with legal institutions.

Their balanced approach is characteristic of their dual role as both lawyer and activist, a delicate equilibrium they navigate on a daily basis.

β€˜When I put on that black gown and jacket every morning, I leave my activism behind,’ they say, explaining that the way they see it, wearing multiple hats β€˜is not necessarily a bad thing,’ because β€˜it’s impossible to lose the gravity of the movement you are standing in.’

In terms of the broader queer rights movement in India, Bhatt offers a nuanced perspective that acknowledges both its strengths and challenges.

β€˜Like any other social movement, it is the great Indian family. People fight amongst each other, or disagree, or don’t get along.’

 

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This metaphor aptly captures the internal tensions that Bhatt themself has observed within the movement.

They point to disparities between urban and rural experiences, as well as the dominance of certain voices within the community.

β€˜Even today, this is a trend,’ they say. β€˜It continues to be developed, sorry, dominated by those who belong to the urban elite.’

Yet they’re quick to highlight the important work being done behind closed doors.

β€˜For years, people such as Vyjayanti Vasanta Mogli and Grace Banu have been tirelessly campaigning away from the limelight to address issues like social security for transgender people,’ they add.

And to combat these internal divisions, they say coalition-building is key.

β€˜We must build coalitions within the movement itself and in other movements as well,’ they say, citing the anti-caste movement and the feminist movement as examples.

Their call for unity is tempered by a recognition that boundaries are essential, however. β€˜Having said that, there are lines that must be drawn,’ they stress.

 

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Bhatt’s book also explores the impact of new technological advancements on legal advocacy, namely the live streaming of court proceedings.

While acknowledging the potential of this to democratise the process, they also note its pitfalls.

β€˜The fault lies not with the live streaming, but with bad faith actors who repeatedly encourage engagement with their posts instead of providing nuance,’ they explain, referring to the marriage equality case.

In some parts of the nation, this prompted improved validation of the queer community’s persistent fight for justice, but in others, it created a cesspool of vitriol and queerphobia both online and offline, which Bhatt says is linked to rising misinformation in this space.

Bhatt’s humility, sharp legal mind, and activist spirit makes them a compelling presence in India’s ongoing struggle for queer rights.

As a young voice fighting for justice, they are wary of being labelled an idol.

β€˜I don’t believe in iconography,’ they say. β€˜I think that puts too much of a burden on us when, at the end of the day, I am a human being. I will falter, I will fail.’

Their approach to advocacy, therefore, is characterised by a clear-eyed assessment of the challenges that lie ahead and an unwavering commitment to bringing about progress.

β€˜I’m always a glass-half-full kind of person, but the glass is half empty for me a lot of the time,’ Bhatt admits. β€˜I know others operate differently, but for me, yes, the glass is half full, but there’s still so much more that needs to be done and that makes it hard to relax.’

This is explored further in Bhatt’s book, which explores their experience with feeling pressured to compensate for their queerness through academic achievement and – as a result of this relatability – makes the work accessible to all audiences.

Looking ahead, Bhatt sees challenges and opportunities for India’s queer rights movement, as well as a demand for more legal advocacy, grassroots organising, and coalition-building.

With their debut book, Bhatt has not only contributed to the growing body of queer literature in India but has also set a new standard for legal writing that doesn’t sacrifice the personal for the professional.

Through offering a Gen Z lawyer’s perspective on recent legal battles and the broader social movement, it provides valuable insights for both activists and scholars.

As they continue to navigate the complex interception between law, activism, and identity, Bhatt’s voice promises to be an essential one in shaping the future of queer rights in India and reminds us of the power of persistence and the importance of nuanced understanding.

β€˜At the end of the day, these institutions are manned by the people,’ they conclude.

β€˜Judges come from society, they have their own biases, and they are prone to making mistakes as are we all. So, when they do, you must tell them that you have also faltered because that is how you course correct.’

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