In Our Own Voices: Queer Representation at the International Kolkata Book Fair
Dum Dum Swikriti Society’s stall. Photo: Marnina (Avirup)
Marnina (Avirup) spoke to representatives from Queer organizations at the 2024 Kolkata Book Fair about the experience of hosting their stalls, seeking diversity in Indian publishing, and much more.
The 2024 edition of The International Kolkata Book Fair—the largest such event in Asia—was held over two a span of weeks in January. It platformed over 900 stalls from around India and the world. The fair was truly a celebration of India’s literary variety, telling the stories from the grand diversity of the country’s population.
In the countless shelves that housed thousands of books—if not hundreds of thousands—there was space for everyone: including the Queer community. This year’s Kolkata Book Fair hosted three Queer stalls from three different organizations: Sappho For Equality (a Kolkata-based organization that works for the rights and social justice of individuals with non-normative gender-sexual orientations, identities and expressions, especially persons assigned gender female at birth), Dum Dum Swikriti Society (a Queer organisation based in Kolkata which has published a yearly magazine Swikriti for the past 21 years), and Abhijoy Prakashani (a bilingual publication that primarily focuses on Queer literature).
In in-depth conversations, I spoke to representatives of these organizations about what the Book Fair meant to them, the purpose of their stalls, and the shifting attitudes of the general public towards greater Queer representation.
For many visitors, this fair became an introduction, or the beginning of their journey, to learn about Queer rights. For Queer activists, the event was an opportunity to reach out to people in their own voice.
For most publishers, the book fair is a platform to connect with organizations, distributers, and customers, and to sell their books to a larger audience. But for the representatives handling the Queer-leaning stalls, the fair was more than just a platform to sell books. Debika Saha, a representative for Sappho For Equality mentioned that the primary objective of their stall was to interact with more people, whether they be members of the community or not. Several visitors stopped by their stall regularly, some to buy books or magazines, and some, just for a chat
“Many of these people had not even heard about Sappho For Equality previously, but now they at least have some idea about our work, organization and our demands,” said Saha. For many visitors, this fair became an introduction, or the beginning of their journey, to learn about Queer rights. For Queer activists, the event was an opportunity to reach out to people in their own voice.
Dum Dum Swikriti Society’s treasurer, Shantanu, referred to his organization’s stall as an “awareness programme”, adding that the book fair helped the publishers to reach out to various people who regularly buy their magazine and provide constructive criticism.
Shamik Joy Sengupta, the proprietor of Abhijoy Prakashani, mentioned that, for him, the book fair has many purposes, “It is a place to catch up with old friends of mine, a platform to better communicate our [the Queer community’s] demands to a broader audience, tell them how we differ from the so-called mainstream, and how are we or some of our needs similar to theirs.” The latter, he argued, could be best done through books or magazines by Queer authors or based around Queer characters. Sengupta, through his writing and publication, has also tried to contribute to the literary aspect of Queer resistance by publishing and writing stories that depicted Queer stories but also looked beyond the overused paradigm of a ‘tragic love story’.
Saha affirmed that both queer and cishet people visit their stalls regularly. “For cishet people,” she said, “I believe, they’re certainly curious about LGBTQ+ issues.” Many such cishet visitors, she feels, are, usually PhD scholars or doing research on such issues. Her stall featured a diverse collection of books from the early days of the queer movement. “We also have our own magazine, Swakanthey [In our own voice], where various people from the community submit pieces,” said Saha.
Sappho For Equality’s stall. Photo: Marnina (Avirup)
Most of the books at Sappho For Equality’s stall were publications which attracted the attention of academics or other readers who preferred research-based non-fiction. These included Selected Swakanthey, a collection of articles on non-normative gender and sexual issues from the publication’s magazine. While an excellent read, selections like these didn’t gather interest in the way as the stalls which housed books closer to more popular genres, like fiction or mythology.
Saha also added that people who may have been unaware about Sappho For Equality’s work, struggle, and demands, have enthusiastically contacted and interacted to learn about the organization, and some have even joined them.
PhD scholars and researchers have long been interested in Sengupta’s book Puraborto, which has been sold-out of stock for the past three years. In some universities, Puraborto is used as reference material for Gender Studies. Sengupta stated that often people who discovered that book—through their curriculum or through other avenues—personally contacted him to talk about Queer issues, history, gender structures, origin of gender divisions, etc. “Not everyone who contacts me about the book or is reading the book is pursuing Gender Studies belongs to the community or is perhaps a research scholar,” said Sengupta.
Shantanu offered more insight on how the curiosity of readers and visitors has evolved over time. “People who are doing research or PhD certainly are interested, but in general, too, people are curious.” In his experience, the first five years and the last five years of the Book Fair were like “hell and heaven”. In the early years, he was asked questions like ‘What percentage of people are LGBTQ+?’ or ‘How many people are like you?’ “Queer people, to them, were an alien concept,” said Shantanu. “But now, people are much more aware, especially the youth.” Many younger people, said Shantanu, had brought their parents to the stall, with some even attempting to educate their parents and friends about the LGBTQ+ community.
“I remember, in our early days, people who did want to buy books would never directly approach our stall,” said Shantanu. “Most people would dither for minutes before buying a single book. A few years ago, the book fair had a power cut. We did our highest sale that year in those 15 minutes!”
In recent times, as the stigma around the queer community has shifted, Shantanu implied that more visitors have been open to at least learn or have a conversation around the issue, or pick up books by queer authors.
Sengupta also agreed that, with time, things have gotten better. When he’d started his stall, he had stated that he would often hear catcalls or slurs when he wore kajal and lipstick. But that doesn’t happen so frequently anymore.
“Queerphobic thinking existed before us, and it will definitely exist after our death,” said Saha. “But so will the movement. Regardless of that, something that our senior members tell us and it is something I truly believe: We must continue the struggle.”
One cannot deny the advances which have been made in recent times in regards to Queer rights. There is certainly a section of urban elites and middle classes who have educated themselves to some degree. But if one was to look beyond these smaller subgroups, there is still a long way to go. From personal experience of organizing students in Kolkata and nearby areas, I have observed that Queer people are still associated with derogatory terms and stigmatized professions, like begging or sex work. Catcalling is an everyday practice.
While there has been an increase in curiosity and tolerance of the queer community and movement, my personal and political experiences made me wonder if the perception of Queer issues has truly evolved in recent years. Have most attendees, to some extent, been able to overcome our patriarchal collective consciousness? Shantanu mentioned that, among the questions asked in the past years, included queries about what they ate, or wore, or how they walk around, “as if we were some rare animals being displayed.”
“Nowadays,” says Shantanu, “people are more curious about our movement, its progress, and recent developments.” He proposed that this interest stems from what they know or hear about the Queer community in popular media. Most questions are about the status of LGBTQ+ rights in India, the latest legal battles and developments, Section 377, etc. “But the people who are curious are also more or less aware about these issues, and events thanks to social media and the internet.”
Saha narrated an incident from this year’s Book Fair. “A group of young people were visiting the stall, so while talking to us they kept using the term ‘third gender’. One cannot use that term—at least not anymore. So, I asked them what were the first and second genders. They responded by saying that men are the first gender, women are the second gender and trans people are the third. So, who set up these rules? And what sense does this make? This is what we’re fighting against, this tendency to corner people or marginalize people.”
Saha also spoke about some of the misconceptions that people hold regarding the reading down of Section 377. Some had the idea that, post-377, all the demands of equality for the Queer or the trans community had been met. “But the reality is that Section 377 categorized us as criminals, but as of now we are not called criminals. No major demand of ours has been fulfilled whether it be our economic demands, marriage rights, reservations, or our legal rights.” Saha said that people have often asked, ‘What more does the community want?’. “I mean ‘what more do we want’ implies we actually gained something, but what did we gain?” Saha said. “We practically gained nothing so how can it be ‘What more do we want’?”
The contradiction between Saha’s scepticism and the more optimistic views of Shantanu and Sengupta is something I have observed often within Queer circles. The older sections of the community are very hopeful of the supposed reforms we have achieved, while the younger generations remain focused on the fight that lies ahead.
Abhijoy Prakashani’s stall. Photo: Marnina (Avirup)
I certainly share much of Saha’s scepticism. The incidents that Shantanu narrated can and still do happen in the present, even at a place as inclusive as the book fair. I, too, was catcalled at the book fair in 2023 because of my ‘feminine’ attitude and behaviour. I continue to believe that the Queer community and the movement still have a long way to go, not just in terms of material gains, but also in terms of public mobilization and awareness.
Despite some positive momentum, it cannot be denied that many still hold on to their hatred towards the Queer community, fuelled by a patriarchal psyche. I asked the interviewees if they faced any strong discrimination from the organizers of the fair or visitors. “Some people come to our stalls and check out our books but the moment we tell them about our identity they immediately put the book down and leave,” said Shantanu. But he said that the organizers have been supportive since Swikriti began their stall. “At least within the boundaries of this ‘Little Magazine’ section, we have never had to face any sort of hatred or discrimination.”
The Little Magazine section of the fair is a section that houses stalls from smaller publications, NGOs, political organizations or even some study circles. This section platformed all three of the queer stalls alongside stalls by psychoanalysts, feminists, and various communist groups. Every evening, this section is lit up with intellectual debates and discussions on various issues. This inclusive nature is what has allowed Queer individuals to find a safe space.
“Queerphobic thinking existed before us, and it will definitely exist after our death,” said Saha. “But so will the movement. Regardless of that, something that our senior members tell us and it is something I truly believe: We must continue the struggle.”
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Marnina(Avirup) (they/them) is an independent queer writer and reviewer from Kolkata. They have written stories, poems and articles on subjects of Politics, Philosophy, and Contemporary Electoral Politics. A student of Political Science, they're interested politics, philosophy, political theory and social commentary through fiction. You can reach reach out to them through on Instagram @lacanpremi or on ishanavi2004@gmail.com.
