Poignant portraits

Daughters of God, a photo project by Jennifer Carlos chronicles the daily struggles, complexities and resilient spirit of the Thirunangais — the term used to refer to transwomen in Tamil Nadu, writes Tanisha Saxena

Twenty-seven-year-old Rossi waiting for the client on Semmandalam Kurinjipadi Avenue in Cuddalore, as seen here in February 2022. Photos courtesy Jennifer Carlos

“Give me a little money, and you will be blessed,” Savitha, Sangeena and Sathana hardly go unnoticed as they call out to the passers-by in the bustling streets of Puducherry. For 34-year-old Jennifer Carlos, this was a recurring site every time she would go out. Jennifer is an Indian-origin photographer based in Paris, France. It was during her visit to her family last September that she was able to recall her childhood spent being fascinated by the beauty and courage of the people of the transgender community, who manage to exist in one of the most patriarchal and conservative societies of the world.

For Jennifer, the vulnerability and dreams of her subject provide fodder to explore the complex etchings that history and culture can carve into our psyches. And it was during her fleeting interaction with the community that the seeds of Daughters of God, a photo project that chronicles the daily struggles, complexities and resilient spirit of the Thirunangais were sown, the term used to refer to transwomen in the state of Tamil Nadu.

Jennifer says, “the Thirunangais, who were wrongly assigned the masculine gender at birth, are also called ‘Hijras’ in the northern parts of the country.” This term is used in reference to Bahuchara Mata, the goddess of fertility and chastity, of whom they are the descendants, according to the Hindu tradition.”

Transgenders were called Aravani/Aravanigal in Tamil prior to the late Karunanidhi coining the word Thirunangai to denote them. For the photo project, Jennifer worked along with Usha, a translator, as well as researchers and a lawyer who helped verify the information. As a woman of Indian origin, she was also able to understand Tamil, which she used to communicate with the community in the absence of a translator. During her research, Jennifer felt that while the Hijra community in northern India is often treated with respect and even invited to birthdays and weddings to shower blessings, the Thirunangais remained marginalised in every way.

“None of the women in the community I lived with has gone to weddings or birth ceremonies, but instead give blessings in the streets in exchange for a few rupees,” she says.

“I got the feeling that they are more feared than respected. They are all qualified, but cannot find a job because no one wants to offer them an opportunity.”

The women agreed to be photographed as they went about their day-to-day activities, caught between hardships and hopes of a better future.

Jennifer immersed herself in their community for six months to bear witness to their marginalised lives. She interacted with many but eight of them — Savitha, Sangeena, Sathana, Geetha, Rossi, Marthula, Srija and Pappima — played an important role in her project.

Rejected by their own families, mutilated, beaten, raped and excluded from the labour market, they all survived thanks to begging, prostitution and the bonds of solidarity that unite their community, both feared and revered since the Hindu religion gives them powers of blessing, healing, and fertility.

They thus occupy a paradoxical posture that fascinates everyone.

As a photographer, Jennifer always aspires to capture her subjects in close proximity. Hence, she decided to immerse herself in this community, zooming in on a raw reality that she hopes can spark discussions on what it’s like to live on the fringes of society.

“My wish is that people stop being afraid of transgender people: after all, I was a man and I became a woman so I can understand both, I have feelings too. I want people to stop seeing us as mentally ill and animals just because we don’t meet the gender norm here. I want people to understand that we are individuals who aspire like everyone else to live their lives and be independent.” says, Savitha, a transgender living in Puducherry.

For many Thirunangais, being forced to live in a community is not always easy. They are caught between taboos, labels and their own aspirations. “I want people to understand that we are individuals who want — just like everyone else — to live our lives and be independent,” says Savitha.

They often have to live with major traumas, which are specific to each transgender woman’s story, but they develop resilience that enables them to remain hopeful and keep battling on, day after day.

“I want my project to be able to give a voice and a face to this community, make us question our own identity construction and stop passing judgements on gender norms,” she adds.

Pointing out an important aspect in this scenario, Rachana Mudraboyina, a transgender rights activist adds that, “There is an increase in the transgender population across the country with more visibility in public spaces as evidence for the same. What I mean to say is every single hijra/kinner/thirunangai person cannot be accommodated in the badhai (begging) system as there are fewer funds in the market due to inflation and there is much competition from the hijra/kinner/Thirunangai community for the limited resources.”

Actor Harshini Mekala relates to the struggle of transgenders in Andhra Pradesh. She opens up about her initial days in the job market. “Education is the only key to liberation for us but it’s not easy to even get an education. We have to go through so much in schools and colleges. And luckily if we get proper education and all, getting a job is another big problem. I have done my masters in economics and I remember when I went for an interview at a good company, the manager told me “tum to transgender ho to kya karogi naukri karke. Mera number rakh lo, raat ko aate hain!” Many companies simply rejected me. So, begging is not a choice left for the transgender community. Who likes begging at signals but in order to survive that’s what we are left to resort to. I think there’s a long way to go and people like Jennifer can actually create a spark of change for us.”

Abhina Aher, a transgender activist, says, “Today, things are changing. We are working with hijras to help them with their health needs, social welfare and empowerment to receive education and employment. The photo project is rightly claiming their dignity back in the society by seeking education, employment and social entitlements. Communities worked tirelessly to gain success of NALSA judgement which acknowledge transgender people as ‘Third Gender’ on April 15, 2014. Today, we have the Right of Protection Act 2019 for Transgender people. Slowly and gradually things are changing and young hijras are claiming their lost position and in the process becoming the most loved daughter of God in India.”