Anindita Mukherjee, the Nalsar Hyderabad graduate who successfully requested the university to issue her graduation certificate with the gender-neutral honourific Mx, rather than Mr or Ms, has explained her decision and the issues involved in a personal column on the website Orinam.
For over two years now, the idea of privilege, especially my own privilege, has occupied my mind. I stayed clear of writing about identity; let me figure out the thin line between speaking with and speaking for, I thought, and only then will I be equipped to say anything meaningful. Some of this tentativeness also, possibly, stemmed from the fact that my own description of myself was in flux; I need to sort myself out first, I thought. Of course, life must torpedo the most carefully laid plans.
A week ago, I uploaded a picture of my provisional transcript on Facebook, excited that I finally had written proof of the fact that I was graduating (after half a decade spent in law school) and that the university had acceded to my request to have a gender-neutral honorific before my name (Mx, instead of Ms).
The move to upload the image was political, in that I wanted others in the university to know that this was possible, and they could ask for it too, but I did not expect too many people outside the university to hear of it.
Instead, the story ended up published in practically every leading daily, and I, who had been too uncertain of my views to write definitive conclusions to essays, found my opinion on gender identity plastered across websites and newspapers ranging from The Hindu to Buzzfeed India.
It was, and still is, both unnerving and bewildering.
The first interview I did, which formed the source of the media frenzy that followed, was with Legally India. In my statement there, I mentioned that I did not see any reason why my certificate needed to carry markers of my gender identity, especially since I am still uncertain as to how I wish to be identified.
That statement, apart from causing my parents mild consternation, led several people to presume I identify as trans*, because, well, why else would anyone want a gender-neutral honorific, right?
I was asked, in due course, whether Mx ought to be only for those who check the ‘other’ box; why I stayed in the ‘women’s hostel’ in the university; whether the request had anything to do with my sexual preferences; and so on.
That people were making this very linear connection between my request for a gender-neutral certificate and trans* identity alarmed me.
To lay claim to trans* identity, in today’s world, is to lay claim to certain narratives and lived experiences that are not mine. If I was being attributed that identity, was I also being attributed the voice that comes associated with it?
Was I unwittingly speaking for others, just because the media chose to pick up and amplify this light and fluffy story?
This essay is a consequence of that alarm.
I was raised without many gendered cues at home. My parents brought me up as their child, not as their daughter. I did not have gendered toys, I sported a ‘boy-cut’ most of my childhood (and then, through most of college) and I was never told to do things because that’s what women are meant to do. A lot of my clothing is from the men’s section of stores.
When I go out, sometimes people call me ‘sir’.
I shrug it off, most of the times, but it has brought home to me the idea that gender is perceived through many symbols and my short hair and baggy clothes were powerful ones.
Nonetheless, gendered cues are all around us, and I absorbed my fair share of them.
I have faced the everyday harassment (and the fear of it) that women come to see as inevitable.
I have internalised norms relating to women’s bodies to the extent that, despite interrogating every one of them in theory, I still cannot bring myself to wear sleeveless clothing unless my underarms are waxed.
All this is to say that, despite the relatively unorthodox upbringing I had, if I were to characterise my experiences, I would say that I lived the life of a woman. A middle-class, brahmin, urban woman. (With short hair; always with short hair. Even cat-calls directed at me tend to be of this variety: “Oi, BOYCUT!”)
In time, though, I read and found language for what I had often instinctively felt: that my experiences were such because of the manner in which I was perceived, not because of something innately ‘womanly’ in me.
Or to use academic language, I came to understand gender as being socially constructed and, essentially, performed.
One is a woman only insofar as one does the things women are supposed to do in society, and look the way women are expected to look. But I did not fully comprehend what that understanding of gender implied, until an incident a couple of years ago. While speaking to a colleague, I said, “I self-identify as a woman…” and she retorted with, “Why? Tell me, what makes you a woman?”
And there I stood, opening and shutting my mouth like a guppy-fish, completely astounded by the idea that I could no longer self-identify as a woman, if I believed there is nothing essential to ‘womanhood’. I could be identified by others as a woman, yes. But could I call myself a woman again?
At the same time, I found myself strongly allied with the trans* movement. Insofar as persons who identify as agendered are concerned, the idea of constructed gender identity makes perfect sense. But what of those who transition from one gender to another?
How does the notion that our gender is defined by the ways in which we are socialised explain the lived reality of an intersex person assigned one gender identity at birth and raised with that identity, but who grows up to transition to another?
I find it useful to think of biology and society weighing in together to determine our gender identities, in different measure for different people.
If that is the case, then, to what extent does my sex define my gender identity?
These were the questions plaguing me when I said that I am still uncertain as to how I’d wish to be identified. In addition, there was the concern that the trans* movement itself does not speak in one voice.
There are those who seek to dismantle the gender binary and do away with these categories altogether, and there are others who seek only the inclusion of a third category. While the latter has begun happening at some level (though I think the language still is problematic; imagine checking a box describing yourself as the ‘other!), I find myself allied with the former politics.
Does allying with one adversely impact the other? These questions continue to bother me, but being thrust headlong into a media circus seems to have forced a certain sort of clarity (whether temporary or not, we shall see) in my thinking.
Theoretically, I’d love to see all of us as radical singularities, bound together in communities of choice (my primary identity would be as a non-erudite, GoogleTranslate-reliant lover of Faiz, in that ideal world). In that world, we would all be genderqueer, because categories would no longer withstand scrutiny, so being identified as trans* would be no big deal.
But if I were to quit dreaming for a moment, I am forced to reckon with the fact that identifying as trans* today, comes gratis with a side of structural violence that I have not experienced. It comes associated with exclusions that I have never had to struggle against.
It would give me a voice and an identity, especially in an age of identity politics, that I have no right to claim.
Politically, therefore, the gender identity I can lay claim to is that of a woman. I can only try, in whatever way I can, to be an ally to the trans* movement.
Was my request for a gender-neutral certificate foolhardy, then? Of course, it is for the broader movement to engage with, critique and possibly rip apart the request and its politics. But I would argue that was not foolhardy, but essential, on the basis of what Chomsky calls the ‘responsibility of privilege’.
I have had the privilege of arriving at the same theoretical position on gender identity as the trans* movement (or parts of it), without having to bear the brunt of the exclusions faced by trans* persons.
I was studying in a university with no trans* students who could have made the request.
For me, the stakes were low: if the request was denied, I was ready to pitch battle on the principled point, but even if all efforts failed I would still graduate.
If the request was allowed, it would open a tiny window (I thought) into institutional conversations about gender fluidity and the need for more inclusive policies.
It has the potential to force harder questions: if we recognise gender fluidity, then how do we rework the 30% horizontal reservation for women? How do we put in place affirmative action that would correct the historic exclusion of trans* persons from higher education?
On account of the sheer arbitrariness of Indian news-houses, that window became much larger than I expected, though very few hard questions were asked. I was then faced up with another quandary: should I speak at all?
As it became evident that the story was going to be picked up regardless of my participation in the process, I was convinced by those I sought advice from, that it was far better that I tried to make a point or two, instead of letting the opportunity slip merely in order to stay clear of allegations of seeking undue publicity.
But when it came to TV and radio shows, I tried my best to put those who called me in touch with persons who have fought the bigger battles on self-identification and respect, asking that the moment be used to open up a broader conversation and give space to those who really have far more meaningful things to say.
Whether these shows will happen, I do not know, though I certainly hope they do.
I have been asked, incessantly over the past few days, what pronouns I prefer, and this question is what I would like to close with.
In many ways it is symbolic of the dilemmas I have highlighted above.
I firmly believe that if gender-neutral language is used only by trans* persons who do not conform to the gender binary, then we will have only created a third category, not undone the existing two.
Personally, therefore, I would prefer to use gender-neutral honorifics and pronouns.
But politically, as I just said, my experiences only allow me to identify as a woman.
Is this a contradiction?
Can I identify as a woman and yet insist on gender-neutral language? I would obviously say yes (my whole understanding of my situation is at stake), yet I doubt we have developed language enough to make sense of these questions.
Unless we experiment though, I doubt we ever will.
For me, this is the beginning of that experiment.
It is also the moment at which I recognise that the agonising and experimentation cannot be private.
This essay, then, is my (somewhat confused) attempt at making sense of the intersections between gender, language and privilege, as I find them playing out in my life at this moment.
Legally India thanks the author and Orinam India, the site where the article was originally posted, for their consent to republish here. Orinam India is a bilingual website (Tamil and English), with information on alternate sexualities and gender identities.
Photo by Vox –> Evangelion
threads most popular
thread most upvoted
comment newest
first oldest
first
It's not meant for a mass audience, it's very much about minority rights and will therefore not be interesting to all. But those who are either trans* themselves or who study or practice in or are interested in gender and policy, I think it's a pretty enlightening and personal read.
Shorn of academic verbiage, Mukherjee’s ruminations (explanation, if you are so inclined) on her being granted a neuter honorific centre on the ramifications of the same on her identity as a woman, whether the taking of such a neuter honorific comes with the politics of the trans movement and its experience, and “the burden of privilege”. I must concede that the part where she conflicts whether to arrogate to herself the trans movement and its experience just because she has chosen a neuter honorific is an indulgence in imaginings of disproportional self worth if not rank megalomania. But that’s a small chink in the larger holes that dot this article.
Mukherjee’s reason for dropping a gendered honorific is that honorifics are social constructs and as such carry the same social baggage that is attached to genders. I am completely one with her and it is precisely because of this that I find this article greatly hypocritical. Mukherjee describes herself as “A middle-class, brahmin, urban woman.” She questions as to why her degree ought to describe her gender, and logically so, but the same trepidation does not seem to transport to the other honorific that attaches itself to her name – Mukherjee. Mukherjee is an honorific that the British granted to Bangali Brahmans with the caste name Mukhopadhya. Now, Mukherjee does not seem too perturbed by the idea of her degree declaring her caste, she does not question as to why her degree ought to give out her caste name?
There are only two plausible explanations. One, that she is not really that bright as she would want us to believe and this is simply that under wrought self that is showing itself. Two, that in a country like India where quite often caste determines your life’s trajectory dropping an Ms. for a Mx. is not quite the same as dropping one’s caste name – a proposition that entails the erosion of all your social capital. For Mukherjee’s sake I hope it is the former and not the latter.
As someone who self-describes herself as so aware of the unfairness of socially imposed labels, the fact that Mukherjee embraced and declared her brahmin-ness did stand out for me. How does one live the life of a brahmin in today's day and age and in what I imagine to be Mukherjee's social milieu and experiences?
I have encountered others who think it necessary to mention that they are brahmin when telling you about themselves.
We as a society really need to start attacking such ingrained caste identities too. I have never in my life been aware or conscious of what caste I could be labelled with.
Brahmin-ness or its lack is not something that's part of your physical being. Its a social identity. And a very insidious one at that.
When people mention they are brahmin, I want to reply - so why would I care whether or not you are.
The Constitution bans discrimination on the basis of caste. Its time we moved on as a society and so-called higher caste people stopped flaunting or embracing their brahmin-ness. I say this not specifically to Mukherjee but as a general observation.
She recognises that she is where she is because of caste and class privilege, which are presumably something you are raised as without without any 'fault' of your own.
There's no way for her to take that back, as a woman could take back what it means to grow up as a woman in today's world.
It's like saying, "as a Caucasian woman, I have no right to appropriate the struggle of African American women because I've had it so easy, though that should not diminish my ability to speak about my own experience as a woman."
So, in essence, Mukherjee is merely giving full disclosure that as a traditionally highly privileged member of society, she may not be able to fully internally ever identify with the struggles faced by probably 90% of India's trans* community.
timesofindia.indiatimes.com/city/chennai/The-angst-of-the-Tamil-brahmin-Live-and-let-live/articleshow/45408151.cms
& she might be referring to privilege as a brahmin that might have been thrust upon her, especially if brahmin-ness is actively embraced by her community and her relatives/ family. Also, I guess if her last name itself signifies her social caste label, then some social experiences of her "brahmin-ness" in the wider social world might be inevitable and uninvited.
Its just that in my personal experience, my so-called social caste has never impinged upon my consciousness. I can't point to any social interaction where my so-called caste might have entered my mind. I point out that I would not qualify as a brahmin. Perhaps, there are negative social experiences that I have been unknowingly spared that have to do with caste. Also, I guess since my religious beliefs never made it necessary for me to have Hindu priests intercede between me and God, I had no social need for brahmins.
At one point when I was much younger I actually wondered whether the reason I was not told our caste by my family/ parents was because we were from a so-called lower caste which they were ashamed of. I now appreciate that my upbringing and growing-up environment had no place for caste, it was not something that was ever mentioned at home.
I have met people socially who tell you their name, their work, where they are from (& in case of Delhi-ites their address which has its own social cache), and that they are brahmin.
Gender labels have a connection to your physical body, to what you look like. Caste labels unless they are evident from your name are not physically evident from your appearance though you could dress like a brahmin. So when people self-describe as brahmin it irks me. I want to tell them, who cares! And that's because such people are claiming a higher social space, a kind of social purity by claiming to be brahmins.
insightjnu.blogspot.in/2005/09/notes-on-my-brahmin-self.html
www.firstpost.com/living/it-is-privileged-hindus-who-suffer-from-the-sickness-of-caste-740165.html
shobha.wordpress.com/2014/06/10/can-one-be-proud-brahmin/
Seriously though, my take is that for her it's a personal journey that she has dealt with and understood in part through academic language and study.
And I think it's a worthwhile concern and shows sensitivity that she did not want to unfairly appropriate the causes and voices of the entire trans* movement to herself, even if that's not a concern you share.
As for Mukherjee - why should you or anyone dictate what she should be important to her or what she should be fighting for. Just because you choose Mx, should she also drop the gender-specific firstname Anindita?
As for caste, have responded in part below, and I reiterate: who are you to choose what battles she should be picking or attack this one because it's less important to you than caste, say? She recognises that she is hugely privileged compared to the average, and makes an allowance for that in the interest of full disclosure.
A lot of the people's criticism of her account seems to belie to me either a case of sophistry for its own sake, or a lack of basic human empathy.
Is the fact that she's been awarded an Mx certificate bothering or hurting you or anyone at all in any way? And why should her explanation of why she made such a decision be offensive? Are any of these making the world a worse place? And could conceivably a few lives be made better via Mx and the accompanying increase in awareness for trans* issues?
1. Should she now change her gender specific name Anindita? – Evidently you have not read the article that you yourself have published. The essential theme of the article is not identity rather the markers of identity. And Mukherjee is embracing her identity as a woman as she has herself stated, “I self-identify as a woman”. So “Anindita” is her identity, therefore, there is no debate. The area of contestation is where she even though self identifies as a woman, she is discomforted by a marker viz Ms. I am only extending her principle and questioning her as to why her discomfiture is only limited to markers of gender and not markers of caste? Understood !
2. Who are you to choose what battles she should be picking? – Firstly, I have nowhere asked her to take up ‘A’ cause or ‘B’ cause or more specifically the Dalit cause.
Secondly, if my questioning her about her reluctance to eschew her marker of caste is making you believe that I want her to take up the Dalit cause or battle then I must state that you are greatly mistaken. Let me establish it.
Now, Mukherjee has dropped her Ms. for the Mx. And this is what she has to say about picking up battles, “That people were making this very linear connection between my request for a gender-neutral certificate and trans identity alarmed me. To lay claim to trans identity, in today’s world, is to lay claim to certain narratives and lived experiences that are not mine.” The necessary conclusion is that just because she has dropped a marker of gender and adopted a neuter honorific it does not necessarily mean that she is identifying with the trans identity or taking up that cause. The fact that she might be a supporter of the trans movement is besides the point.
Therefore, as a corollary from the above even if she drops her caste name it would not necessarily mean she is identifying with the Dalit cause. Therefore, your conclusion that people seem to be foisting upon her what causes she should take up is both logically unsound and factually unfounded.
3. Is the fact that she's been awarded an Mx certificate bothering or hurting you or anyone at all in any way... and other assorted sentences – This emotional pitching is quite futile. I am not a fan boy, I am a young intellectually curious individual, who will ask legitimate questions. My question is greatly legitimate because one is to be held accountable to one’s principles. I don’t know, Kian, what is your understanding of principles but my understanding is this: If I have a set of principles, then it would apply to all situations and circumstances not change according to the situation.
Now, I work on Dalit and Tribal rights. The essential principle that motivates me is the Right to Equality. Can I then discriminate against people who are gay? If I do then wouldn’t I be called out for my hypocrisy? Therefore, even if I might not actively take up the cause of people who are gay, I would be in principle supportive of their right to fair treatment. My questioning of Mukherjee is on the same plane that one is to be held accountable to one’s principles. And the principle that she seems to avow in this article is that she is discomforted by markers of identity. So, when she drops the Ms. but continues to retain the marker of her caste there is a departure from her own stated principle. It is this discrimination in equal treatment of two markers of identity that is problematic. She can, of course, come and state that as a matter of fact she is not discomforted by all markers of identity but merely markers of gender. Let her come and state that, but till that time the charge of hypocrisy shall stick.
1. It's about choice. Anyone can legally change their first name and Nalsar would have happily printed a certificate with your new first name. That wasn't the case with Mx, so now, just as a name change is an option for people who self-identify as the opposite gender, it should be possible to opt for Mx if you want to if you are fluid or would prefer a neutral honorific.
2. Ok, so you don't disagree then that she's free to choose whatever cause she wishes to choose?
3. As explained in 1, you seem to be conflating the option to do something, versus having to do something. She's arguing against society forcing her to use a certain marker. There was no real option until now to opt for Mx, whereas she or anyone else could legally choose a new surname, firstname or had gender transformation surgery, have short hair, long hair, wear skirts, or trousers, etc etc.
It is impossible to remove all markers of identity and undesirable, because many people want to retain some markers of their identity and they should be free to do so if they wish.
If it is 'social constructs', the difficulty is that we literally live in a social construct. Our manners, our speech, our perception of others, everything is a social construct. For better or worse, that's how it is and this melodrama about the honorific is rather petty.
If it is about 'privilege' I cannot fathom what she refers to. Her privilege as a NALSAR lawyer will continue as will her privilege due to family, upbringing and social circle.
If it is about gender labels, the honorifics are quite transparent about that, and understandably so since they purposely serve that function, i.e. to identify gender. But once again, there are many gender giveaways. Birth name, dress, adherence to customs like using a womens restroom >> all these are symbols of being 'branded' a woman. I don't see what is objectionable but 'Anindita' is pretty gender-specific a name as well. Would Mukherjee change her name to a gender neutral one as well? Maybe Krishna? or Anon or something like that. Of course she would not. [...]
'Borrowed Name' has already written a good note about the hypocrisy of continuing with 'Mukherjee' while denouncing 'Ms'. I cannot add to that but ti is something I am quite sure Mukherjee did not know / could not fathom when she wrote this [...]
[...] sadly this storm in a teacup detracts from the real more serious issues NALSAR faces.
Overall a very sorry an dodgy essay, bordering on something Lewis Caroll would have come up with
By analogy, you're saying: I refuse to listen to this gay person talk about gay rights because they also sleep with the opposite sex.
Or, I refuse to listen to this person campaign for Dalit rights because they were born a Brahmin / were born a Dalit but changed their Dalit name.
Or, this person can't lecture me about Muslim rights because they haven't even been to do the Hajj.
Or, I refuse to listen to this trans* rights activist because she still has a penis. "How dare you tell us you'd like to wear a skirt if you haven't even had your surgery yet and still have your 'man' name?"
The shorter version of some of the above: stop being an ass.
Tell us instead about the serious problems that Nalsar faces that could have been fixed in the time it took to effect the Mx change, and then tell us why someone wanting to use the honourific Mx and allowing others to do so upsets you so much?
threads most popular
thread most upvoted
comment newest
first oldest
first