In the first week of 2017, the Lahore High Court gave a landmark decision in a petition after the Federal Bureau of Statistics assured it that the transgendered people of Pakistan would be added to the country’s sixth national population census under a separate gender category.
The petition had been filed by Waqar Ali, identified as a member of the transgender community, through lawyer Sheraz Zaka. The last time such a stride was taken was in 2012 when the National Database and Registration Authority added a special column to forms for them, paving the way for them to get ID cards.
The census, which begins in March, is taking place after a gap of 19 years and is crucial for the government’s ability to plan for the population. Now that transgender people will be included, there is hope that such visibility will bring them out of the margins of society. Including them in the headcount adds to the other progress that has been made such as giving them the right to vote, computerised national ID cards, a jobs quota. For Neeli Rana, a supervisor at the Khawaja Sara Society, it basically means recognition that they exist.
In the absence of a census there is scant data on the third gender. Some estimates put the number at 500,000 across the country. This would include a mishmash of categories such as cross-dressers, transsexuals, eunuchs, hermaphrodites, and transvestites as not enough attention has been paid to the proper nomenclature and terminology associated with this community. Professor Munawar Sabir of Punjab University argues that while they may be relatively small in number, they should be highlighted as a majority when it came to their rights. The government should recognize them, educate them and help them be gainfully employed as all people have a right to these dignities. Up until 2012, they were not even recognised as having the right to vote until the Supreme Court stepped in. Prior to that they only had a choice of calling themselves male or female for official documentation purposes. It took a court ruling to guarantee their rights under the Constitution, including that of inheritance.
The hope is that the census will help change much of this. It is, however, notoriously difficult to conduct as it is—requests for the army’s help have been made by the government—but getting a headcount for transgender people, who already inhabit the margins is going to prove a special challenge. “It cannot be done without involving the community and its gurus,” warns Neeli Rana. “Otherwise the government will not be able to collect true data.” A guru is a transgender person who takes young ones in when they are abandoned by their families and acts as a sort of guardian. Almost all transgenders have a guru. Rana points out that if the government tries to go the way of eliciting information from parents with transgender children, the effort is likely to backfire. Most parents would avoid giving out that kind of information. In Lahore, the Khwaja Sara Society has registered around 16,000 members in a bid to provide them medical facilities. But the consensus is that these numbers are the tip of the iceberg.
The Lahore court’s order goes a long way in protecting transgender people who are perhaps the most vulnerable segment of Pakistani society. Just recently a video of a transgender being maltreated and beaten in Sialkot went viral on social media but the state never intervened. “This episode showed just how badly we are marginalized,” Rana adds. Other government initiatives have failed to deliver as well. Even though the Supreme Court has ordered all provincial governments to set aside a quota of jobs for transgenders, they have yet to completely follow through. The social welfare departments were supposed to outline skills training programmes as well, Rana adds.
The training would have helped transgenders seek jobs other than dancing and singing at fairs or at shrines for Sufi saints or at weddings, says Rana. Even this avenue of livelihood was closed off when the government banned loudspeakers. No one asks them to come to dance and sing at the birth of a baby boy anymore either, she says. As a result many of them just beg for a living.
“I toured many countries to attend gatherings of the transgender community and observed they were treated with respect but here the picture is not good,” she says. “It is true that we are the least educated community in Pakistan.” With no proper education, they are not eligible for the government jobs or the quota set aside for them.
This happens because transgender children suffer at school, explains Aashi, who is a social worker with the Khawaja Sara Society. They are teased and treated inhumanely by their classmates and the teachers, she says. As a result they just leave school. But the minute they leave home, as is often the case, or school, they are exploited. “Our youth is still slightly better,” she says. “When you grow old you are up against far more odds.”
At the heart of the matter is the simple fact that they are not accepted as human beings in society—no matter what government policy is created. Take for example the case of Alisha who died at Peshawar’s Lady Reading Hospital because she was refused treatment in both the male and female wards. Even as she was dying the paramedics and attendants with other patients abused her, according to Aashi.
Almas Bobby, the president of the Shemale Association of Pakistan, recounts the many indignities that they are forced to suffer. When the government in Lahore banned the use of loudspeakers the police took particular glee in going around handcuffing transgenders dancing or singing at wedding events. “All such unpleasant acts should be immediately stopped,” she demanded. “We were treated like terrorists.” Another indignity is the demand to produce a medical certificate when they apply for a CNIC, maintains Neeli Rana. However, a Nadra spokesperson clarified that it was merely an allegation that a medical certificate was being demanded to process a CNIC as it was a person’s right to mention whatever gender they chose to on the forms. There was no discrimination at any service center as the staff had to follow a standard operating procedure.
The petition had been filed by Waqar Ali, identified as a member of the transgender community, through lawyer Sheraz Zaka. The last time such a stride was taken was in 2012 when the National Database and Registration Authority added a special column to forms for them, paving the way for them to get ID cards.
The census, which begins in March, is taking place after a gap of 19 years and is crucial for the government’s ability to plan for the population. Now that transgender people will be included, there is hope that such visibility will bring them out of the margins of society. Including them in the headcount adds to the other progress that has been made such as giving them the right to vote, computerised national ID cards, a jobs quota. For Neeli Rana, a supervisor at the Khawaja Sara Society, it basically means recognition that they exist.
Up until 2012, they were not even recognised as having the right to vote until the Supreme Court stepped in. Prior to that they only had a choice of calling themselves male or female for official documentation purposes. It took a court ruling to guarantee their rights under the Constitution, including that of inheritance
In the absence of a census there is scant data on the third gender. Some estimates put the number at 500,000 across the country. This would include a mishmash of categories such as cross-dressers, transsexuals, eunuchs, hermaphrodites, and transvestites as not enough attention has been paid to the proper nomenclature and terminology associated with this community. Professor Munawar Sabir of Punjab University argues that while they may be relatively small in number, they should be highlighted as a majority when it came to their rights. The government should recognize them, educate them and help them be gainfully employed as all people have a right to these dignities. Up until 2012, they were not even recognised as having the right to vote until the Supreme Court stepped in. Prior to that they only had a choice of calling themselves male or female for official documentation purposes. It took a court ruling to guarantee their rights under the Constitution, including that of inheritance.
The hope is that the census will help change much of this. It is, however, notoriously difficult to conduct as it is—requests for the army’s help have been made by the government—but getting a headcount for transgender people, who already inhabit the margins is going to prove a special challenge. “It cannot be done without involving the community and its gurus,” warns Neeli Rana. “Otherwise the government will not be able to collect true data.” A guru is a transgender person who takes young ones in when they are abandoned by their families and acts as a sort of guardian. Almost all transgenders have a guru. Rana points out that if the government tries to go the way of eliciting information from parents with transgender children, the effort is likely to backfire. Most parents would avoid giving out that kind of information. In Lahore, the Khwaja Sara Society has registered around 16,000 members in a bid to provide them medical facilities. But the consensus is that these numbers are the tip of the iceberg.
The Lahore court’s order goes a long way in protecting transgender people who are perhaps the most vulnerable segment of Pakistani society. Just recently a video of a transgender being maltreated and beaten in Sialkot went viral on social media but the state never intervened. “This episode showed just how badly we are marginalized,” Rana adds. Other government initiatives have failed to deliver as well. Even though the Supreme Court has ordered all provincial governments to set aside a quota of jobs for transgenders, they have yet to completely follow through. The social welfare departments were supposed to outline skills training programmes as well, Rana adds.
The training would have helped transgenders seek jobs other than dancing and singing at fairs or at shrines for Sufi saints or at weddings, says Rana. Even this avenue of livelihood was closed off when the government banned loudspeakers. No one asks them to come to dance and sing at the birth of a baby boy anymore either, she says. As a result many of them just beg for a living.
“I toured many countries to attend gatherings of the transgender community and observed they were treated with respect but here the picture is not good,” she says. “It is true that we are the least educated community in Pakistan.” With no proper education, they are not eligible for the government jobs or the quota set aside for them.
This happens because transgender children suffer at school, explains Aashi, who is a social worker with the Khawaja Sara Society. They are teased and treated inhumanely by their classmates and the teachers, she says. As a result they just leave school. But the minute they leave home, as is often the case, or school, they are exploited. “Our youth is still slightly better,” she says. “When you grow old you are up against far more odds.”
At the heart of the matter is the simple fact that they are not accepted as human beings in society—no matter what government policy is created. Take for example the case of Alisha who died at Peshawar’s Lady Reading Hospital because she was refused treatment in both the male and female wards. Even as she was dying the paramedics and attendants with other patients abused her, according to Aashi.
Almas Bobby, the president of the Shemale Association of Pakistan, recounts the many indignities that they are forced to suffer. When the government in Lahore banned the use of loudspeakers the police took particular glee in going around handcuffing transgenders dancing or singing at wedding events. “All such unpleasant acts should be immediately stopped,” she demanded. “We were treated like terrorists.” Another indignity is the demand to produce a medical certificate when they apply for a CNIC, maintains Neeli Rana. However, a Nadra spokesperson clarified that it was merely an allegation that a medical certificate was being demanded to process a CNIC as it was a person’s right to mention whatever gender they chose to on the forms. There was no discrimination at any service center as the staff had to follow a standard operating procedure.