Introduction

In March 2023, during the 95th Academy Awards, India experienced a moment of immense joy and national pride as the Telugu film, Roudram Ranam Rudhiram (RRR), helmed by director S.S. Rajamouli, received the ‘Best Original Song’ accolade for the composition, Naatu Naatu. The nation fervently celebrated this significant achievement, marking a pinnacle of success in the global cinematic landscape. However, the conversations around RRR were also trending in social media for Rajamouli’s remark that RRR is not a Bollywood film, but a Telugu film. Furthermore, varied opinions on this remark by the netizens brought the terrain of regional cinema under a new spotlight (Somashekar and Pinto, 2023). It ignited discourses on regional cinema as a distinct and separate entity out of the Bollywood framework. This statement disrupted the existing notions of Indian Cinema of the West, which generally equated Indian cinema with Bollywood, by rupturing its confined boundaries to encompass the trope of regional cinema (films produced from different regions of the country) as its part. Indian cinema comprises of the films produced from culturally plural and linguistically diverse regions of the nation. The presence of multiple cultures and diverse languages in India serves as one of the manifold reasons that make the country one of the pivotal markets for film production and consumption.

In the last two decades, the South Indian film industry has experimented with new ways of filmmaking and has nurtured a celluloid culture dealing with challenging narratives on the one hand and advanced technologies on the other. With these changes in processes and practices of filmmaking and film viewing in regional cinema, it is pertinent to note that the audiences have become cognizant of the content of the films which are predominantly representations of social issues with their complex realities. The South Indian film industry has made a shift from the conventional formula of hero versus villain, good versus evil, and right versus wrong to experiential and realistic narratives, which facilitated the directors to film the frequented and neglected concerns of the voiceless minorities. However, these changes are not instant moments of alterations, but gradual transformations in the cultural as well as the social fabric of the regions.

The representation of the trans community in South Indian cinema has a trajectory that evidently brings forth the potentiality of films as a medium in constructing and normalising the rising arguments on gender. In Karnataka and Kerala, with momentum in queer political movements, queer activism as well as the introduction of government-initiated welfare programs, there has been a marked change in the way queer issues are looked at, perceived, and dealt with. The NALSA judgement decriminalising same-sex love, which opened up pivotal discussions and opportunities for the queer community to ‘come out’, reframed the ways in which the issues of queer community are addressed in India. Besides this, the pride parades in Karnataka and Kerala, the government-sponsored transgender survey, the State Policy for Transgender Persons by the Karnataka government passed in the year 2017, and the Transgender Policy adopted by the state government of Kerala in 2015 are transformative steps by the respective authorities. The culmination of the political reformations, political aims of queer studies of the regions, and ‘plurality of experiences’ reflect in the cinema of Kannada and Malayalam industries.

In this context, this paper attempts to position transwomen within the sphere of media representation and explore how transwomen are defined, viewed and perceived through the camera lens. It uses the close reading technique to analyse the two cinematic texts: the Kannada film Nanu Avanalla Avalu (I am not a he… I am a she, 2015) directed by B.S Lingadevaru, and the Malayalam film, directed by Ranjith Shankar, Njan Marykutty (I am Marykutty, 2018). The film Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015) can be considered as a forerunner to the legal and administrative changes the state of Karnataka awaited, whereas Njan Marykutty (2018) serves as a representation of the transformation in the social, the cultural and political environment of Kerala during the period of release of the film. These cinematic texts are chosen for study with the rationale that these films disrupt the conventional representation of transwomen for the first time in their respective industries and contribute to trans visibility, gearing up public discussions on the community in their respective regions. Early Kannada and Malayalam cinema portrayed transwomen as sexual objects and agents of humour. They were also represented as victims, social outcasts, and diseased or disordered and were often seen as ‘the other’ in the heteronormative discourses. The characters underwent symbolic annihilation, which can be defined as “an absence of representations, underrepresentation of a particular social group, or a markedly strong pattern of negative representations” and this led to an increased social invisibility of the trans identities (Morrow and Battles, 2015, p. 78). The two films taken for study overturn this formula of portrayal of the trans characters. The chosen films were recognised and accepted as progressive representations and played a role in revisiting the discourses on gender identity in the cisheteronormative society of these geographical contexts. There is a shift from the stereotypical and stigmatised representations to the portrayal of “a desire for acceptance” in the narratives (Borden, 2017, p.101). The selected visual texts are examined under two significant premises of trans studies—transfemininity and transphobia. The paper adopts a qualitative approach to understand the construction and representation of transfemininity through the protagonists, Vidya and Marykutty, in Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015) and Njan Marykutty (2018), respectively, by adopting Judith Butler’s idea on gender performativity which theorises gender as a dynamic and fluid construction mediated through actions and gestures that have a historical context determined by the power structures of the society. It also examines the structural and cultural violence in the form of transphobia in the visual texts and explores how transphobia can be an impediment to a trans-inclusive society.

Furthermore, it is also vital to note that the protagonists in the chosen films are positioned in the cultural and social context of the regions of Karnataka and Kerala, which provides glimpses of the life of transwomen in these regions. Karnataka is an abode for the culturally significant transgender community, Jogappa. Jogappa community belongs to the Yellama cult (devotees of goddess Yellama, also called Renuka) and is defined more by their religious identity than their gender identity. The transgender community in Karnataka also has a deep-rooted connection with the Devadasi tradition (women serving the deities). Apart from the Jogappa community, there are also gender minority individuals who identify themselves as hijras. In Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015), Vidya is not represented as a member of the Jogappa community of Karnataka, but as a transwoman who accepts the identity of a Hijra and the film sheds light on the practices, beliefs and rituals of the third gender community.

In Kerala, the existence of gender fluidity and gender diversity has been recognised for a long time. Even though there is a sparsity of written literature, there are glimpses of the presence of transgender community in myths, folklores and religious practices of the region. The gender-diverse individuals are often believed to have spiritual powers and are associated with deities like Ardhanareeswara and Mohini. In addition to this, they are associated with religious rituals and festivals in temples. There is a lack of specific cultural settlements like the gharanas of hijras for transgender individuals in Kerala. However, the state recently has witnessed the opening of shelter homes for the members of gender minority community who are otherwise left often with the option to move to northern parts of India and join the gharanas of hijras. Marykutty, the protagonist, is represented as an individual of the modern era who does not identify herself as a hijra, but as an independent transwoman struggling to turn her dream into reality. In this paper, as an objective category of reference, the English words, “transgender” and “transwoman”, are used to address the trans protagonists and the pronouns “she” and “her” are used as preferred by the characters in the film.

Literature review

Mass media often becomes the major dependable source for people to understand and construct ideas on gender minority groups as their everyday direct interactions with gender non-conforming people are limited. As Andre Cavalcante points out, “for those living on the margins of society, queer media presence offers a knowing wink and a nod of assurance that they are a part of a larger world, that they matter, and that queer life is possible” (Cavalcante, 2018, p.16). Therefore, it becomes crucial to understand, analyse and examine the meaning-making process associated with cultural products like cinema and its impact on the audience to construct and reconstruct notions about queer identities. In India, the study of trans identities does not include an exhaustive repertoire of scholarly work, especially in the field of cinema. S.J Nair, in the Introduction to the book, Transgender India, narrates the paradoxical conditions in which the trans individuals survived and says,

The transperson in India, even till recent times, was a very paradoxical citizen. They were not sexual, social, political, or legal citizens. Yet they existed, rented homes, met and talked to people, went about their everyday activities, and were very visible. No one could account for the millions of identity cards of supposed males and females being rendered useless through the changed appearance or the complete identity dysphoria of the cardholder. No one could account either for the millions of people who appeared over a period of time, who had no certificate of birth to prove their name of choice or their gender of choice or a valid address or antecedents. (Nair, 2022, p. 5)

This reality is changing at a slow pace aiding to queer visibility and inclusivity. Serena Nanda, in the essay titled “Hijras: An Alternative Sex and Gender Role in India”, emphasises the need to study the non-western transgender communities out of the western transgender theoretical framework (Nanda, 1996). Nanda voices out the real struggles of Hijras through actual conversations and interviews and also details out the traditions and practices associated with the community in her works. Gayatri Reddy, in her ethnography study, With Respect to Sex: Negotiating Hijra Identity in South India, explores the lives and experiences of transgender people not only through the lens of sexual differences but accommodates the construction and mediation of the multiple differences in which they live. She points out that the trans identities vary based on their “temporal, spatial, and life-historical positioning” (Reddy (2005), p. 45). When studied in terms of regions, the life of trans individuals in Kerala are “marginally better” due to a few initiatives and support extended by the government (Nair, 2022, p. 9).

A significant work which deserves special attention with respect to cinematic landscape in trans representation includes an essay by Aniruddha Dutta titled, “Beyond the Binary: (Trans) gender Narratives and Class Distinction in Rituparno Ghosh’s Later Films”. It critically examines and analyses the representation of queer politics and queer sensibilities of Rituparno Ghosh as a queer individual and queer filmmaker and points out the significance of lived experiences and knowledge in filmmaking (Dutta, 2015). In the article, “Hijras in Bollywood Cinema”, Kalra and Bhugra (2015) discuss how the transgender community is represented negatively in Bollywood films and also the significant role of media in exposing the audience to a favourable environment to understand sexualities. The constrained body of literature concerning transgender media representation serves as an indication of the pressing need for heightened awareness and the development of more discerning and empathetic narrative frameworks. It is important to identify, review and analyse the representation of trans identities in films made before the films chosen for study to gain a holistic understanding of the contemporary phenomenon in their representation in Kannada and Malayalam cinema.

Even though queerness in cinema “can be seen as a film practice rather than a genre” in the contemporary international cinema, in the regional cinema of India, it is still “a mode of representation within established and LGBT-specific genres, like coming-out and family acceptance stories, that consumers recognise and which provide marketing differences for distributors” (Borden, 2017, p. 100). Kannada cinema archive does not have a copious repertoire of films on trans identities. Most of the films are unempathetic and resort to cliched portrayals. Rama Narayanan’s Kalpana (2012), a comedy-horror film, which is a remake of the Tamil film Kanchana (2011), presents a story of an effeminate hero, possessed by a transwoman ghost who wants to seek revenge for her murder. The film deals with a “problematic plot device because an effeminate person’s character is used sheerly as a prop to induce humour and, in the process, contribute to the pre-existing eschewed image of an effeminate man, which further reinforces toxic masculinity” (Mount, 2022). Maharaj’s Maryade (2014) also victimises the trans character and gives a villainous caricature to the protagonist. Prakash Hebbala’s Haftha (2019) has a cis man playing the role of a trans character. The trans character is placed within the patriarchal heteronormative mass formula of filmmaking, which trivialises the complicated gender identity issues that are deeply rooted in society. Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015) is an adaptation of the autobiographical work of a transwoman, Living Smile Vidya, which is titled, I Am Vidya: A Transgender’s Journey (Vidya, 2014). The film deals with the story of Madesh, who is from the rural village of Kamalapura. It embarks on her journey of becoming Vidya to live her dream of being a woman. The film represents the stark realities of a transgender in a society that adheres to heteronormative norms of gender and has a heterosexual orientation. Madesh frees himself from the patriarchal societal bonds and takes a path to self-recognition and acceptance by undergoing the traditional ritual of Nirvana to live her life in a female body and ultimately live her dream.

In Malayalam, the portrayal of queer characters can be traced back to the 1970s. “Mainstream films maintained a strange silence about LGBTQIA+ issues as if queerness was either completely absent in Kerala or treated as a Western import, despite films like Randu Penkuttikal (Two Girls, 1978) and Deshadanakili Karayarilla (Migratory Bird Never Cries, 1986) which ‘compromisingly’ addressed lesbian desires” (James and Venkatesan, 2022, p.86). Post-1990s, the restructuring of the Indian economy and globalisation policies led to a boom in the exposure of Indian audiences to Western content, which was comparatively more gender inclusive in nature. Shohini Ghosh opines, “In the 1990s, television challenged heteronormativity by creating space for queer representations. Queer issues were addressed directly in newscasts, talk shows, and interviews. Queer spaces also appeared in television serials” (Ghosh, 2002, p. 216). In the wake of twenty-first century, trans identities found a space on the screen but were mostly represented as sexual objects or as characters evoking laughter. Furthermore, it is imperative to highlight that a significant majority of the films allocated screen time to transgender characters, with a maximum duration not exceeding fifteen minutes. Chanthupottu (2005) directed by Lal Jose can be considered as the first film to enter the Malayalam mainstream cinema with a protagonist exhibiting queer elements. The film narrates the story of Radha, an effeminate man who faces discrimination and finally adapts to the heterosexual ideas of masculine mannerisms to live a reputable life in society. The film reinstates the heterosexual notions of sexuality when Radha takes off the ornaments from his child’s body and unties his hair, declaring that he must be brought up as a boy. The director’s idea of dressing as the essence of queerness ignited debates on the damage caused by the film on the community as well as affected the sentiments of queer audience.

Even though the industry fails to claim the production of films dealing with trans identities in quantitative terms, the films made post 2010 exhibited a tendency to represent the transgender individuals in a positive light. The paradigm shifts in the thought process of progressive and creative content creators paved the way for the production of films like Ardhanaari (2012), directed by Santhosh Souparnika, which set the stage for bringing the trans characters out of a derogatory lens. Ardhanaari (2012) discusses the rituals, beliefs and practices of hijras and negates the cliched and superficial portrayal of trans characters as agencies of humour. Jubith Namradath’s Aabhasam (2018), and Ram’s Peranbu (2018) attempt to explore the identity politics as well as the emotional complexities of the trans identities and voice out the violence, marginalisation and exploitation faced by them in the heteronormative society. The film, Aabhasam (2018), portraying the events that occur during an overnight bus journey, discusses how women and transgender persons are mistreated in the guise of cultural morality and moral values set by the patriarchal-heterosexual-heteronormative society.

Vineeth Sreenivasan’s Thira (2013) portrays a transman in a minor role, but the character fits into the narrative so perfectly that queer characters are also perceived as part of the macrocosm rather than the discriminated microcosm. Films like Shankar’s Njan Marykutty (2018), and V.C Abhilash’s Aalorukkam (2018) liberate trans identities from performing the cliched climax like running away or surrendering to death by succumbing to marginalisation and attempt to place them outside ‘the other’ status entitled to them in the society by making them agents of resistance through the cinematic medium. Njan Marykutty (2018) revolves around the life of Marykutty, a qualified transwoman who aspires to become the first transgender Sub Inspector in Kerala Police. It describes the ordeals of a transwoman to survive in a rigid patriarchal heteronormative society and the struggles to access her rights. The film depicts humiliation, torture and violence faced by Marykutty from the society before she accomplishes her goal. However, it is important to note that an increased representation of transwomen in media not only points out the society’s progressive shift but also resonates “deeply with a neoliberal ethos that has begun to value gender “diverse” people as a potentially valuable form [SIC] of human capital” (Currah, 2016).

Analysis: Transfemininity as gender performance

Gender expression, as defined by GLAAD (formerly known as the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) is the “external manifestations of gender, expressed through one’s name, pronouns, clothing, haircut, voice and/or behaviour. Societies classify these external cues as masculine and feminine, although what is considered masculine or feminine changes over time and varies by culture” (GLAAD media reference guide—11th edition, 2023). In the spectrum of gender, transfemininity and transmasculinity are often placed between the dichotomic ends of masculinity and femininity rather than distinct gender identities. They are not acknowledged and examined as parts of the continuum of gender, which has its own temporal and spatial fluidity. This often leads to the comprehension of transfemininity as a replication of cisfeminine demeanours. Consequently, transfemininity is understood in terms of the heteronormative notion of femininity. This gives rise to intertwining trajectories between femininity and transfemininity, causing intersection as well as tension often leading to a misconception of perceiving transfemininity as cisfemininity. This caters to the existing notions of gender essentialism and binary opposition—masculinity/ femininity, and leads to the reinscription of masculinity as superior to femininity and transfemininity. Therefore, in comprehending and critiquing transfemininity as represented in the chosen narratives, it is important to analyse how it is understood and examined against the traditional and existing assumptions of feminine and femininity. Julia Serano (2016) highlights the significance of comprehending the construction of popular notions about transwomen and understanding why society, in general, and men, in particular, are threatened by their existence.

The representation, misrepresentation and non-representation of gender lead to construction of varied notions of gender and these propagated notions often become a reality and the norm of the society leading to stigmatisation of the marginalised gender communities. It also compels the spectators to normalise social, economic, political and cultural exclusion of these marginalised gender identities. Serano expounds femininity in transwomen and argues that “the idea that femininity is subordinate to masculinity dismisses women as a whole and shapes virtually all popular myths and stereotypes about transwomen” (2007). Cinematic representations are significant in propagating these stereotypes as “representation serves as the operative term within a political process that seeks to extend visibility and legitimacy” (Butler, 2006). It urges to define/redefine transfemininity as “the qualifications for being a subject must first be met before representation can be extended” (Butler, 2006). In addition to this, the intertwining of femininity and transfemininity also poses challenges and insecurities for the transwomen in varied magnitude, as shown in both films. Vidya and Marykutty, the protagonists of the films, Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015) and Njan Marykutty (2018) respectively, after recognising and accepting their desired gender identity, are shown exhibiting the essentialized female demeanours. The transformed bodies of the characters act as agencies of their gender performance.

The universal idea of women’s body as sexualised object is addressed and this is clearly depicted in the ways the transitioned bodies of Vidya and Marykutty are seen and approached by society, in general, and men, in particular. The gaze of the characters towards the transwomen within the films is a reflection of the gaze of the larger audience watching the film. The body of transwoman is not only sexualised, but also treated with a sense of condemn, disrespect and humiliation in the narrative. “Post-transition, transwomen, similar to cisgender women, encounter frequent objectification cues, such as being touched more frequently or being the subject of the ‘male gaze’ in public” (Yavorsky and Sayer, 2013, p. 513). The male gaze reflects the way women are looked at and perceived through the camera, inside the cinematic space within the purview of male desire (Mulvey, 1975). However, here the term, cis gaze, introduced by Sophia Banks (2014), a transgender activist, is taken into account for comprehending the personal experience of transgender individuals, especially, transwomen. Cis gaze addresses the expectations of cisgender individuals. It examines the cis norms about trans individuals on how they “should be”. It is explained as “a looking that harbours anxiety about the slippages and transformations between genders, but which also harbours desires for those transitions as well” (Wark, 2021).

The key element of cis gaze is visibility, which demands the exposition of trans body which expose them to violence from society (Filar, 2015). This exposition of trans body often leads to reinforcement of the gender binary hierarchy and opens up spaces for the cisgender to critique, police as well as inflict violence, especially, masculine violence on the trans body. The trans body is seen as the negative or bad object of the cis gaze, making Vidya and Marykutty, the bad objects of the cis gaze. Selvi, Vidya’s friend being forced into prostitution in Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015), and the discussions of the advocate on Marykutty’s beauty and body, the attempts by a man to molest her while travelling in the bus, the sarcastic and sexual remarks of Marykutty’s bodily features by the Sub Inspector, the filming of undressing of Marykutty by men in a public space in Njan Marykutty (2018) expose the cis gaze which engages with questions of safety and visibility, invalidation of identity and an adjustment to an underprivileged position of transwomen. The trans bodies of the protagonists become more vulnerable post-Nirvana, a ritualistic emasculation practice in the Hijra community where a hijra voluntarily undergoes excision of penis and testicles to perform their desired gender identity. Additionally, the process of Nirvana, which liberates the transwoman from a man’s body, becomes the cause for the threats they face in a heteronormative society reflecting on how owning a woman’s body is unsafe and threatening in a patriarchal cisheteronormative society. As Danielle Lefebvre argues, “cis gaze has a strong element of power and entitlement, believing that cisgender people have the authority to critique and police transgender people, and that a person can be defined solely by how they look” (Lefebvre, 2020, p. 50). Both the films bring forth the repercussions of cis gaze on Vidya and Marykutty explaining the violence inflicted on the protagonists by the society.

In cinematic representation, it is often seen that the characters become embodiments of heterofemininity in the process of performing transfemininity and the distinction in the performance of femininity is blurred re-establishing the hegemonic masculinity and its construction of femininity. Butler’s idea of performativity becomes significant here and as Susan Stryker rightly points out, Butler’s ideas on gender foreground the study of trans identities “because it offers a non‐ or post-referential epistemological framework that can be useful for promoting transgender social justice agendas” (Stryker, 2006). However, it is relevant to note that trans studies address the issues of Butler’s theory of performativity on one hand and do not completely negate the idea on the other. Butler’s theory is often criticised for exclusion of trans bodies in her theoretical framework. Discussions by theorists like Jay Prosser (1998) in his notion of “elision of embodiment” and Viviane K. Namaste (2000) about “the erasure of transsexual and transgendered people” mark the voids in Butler’s theory of performativity. Gayle Salamon bridges this gap between Butler’s and Prosser’s theorisation by stating that “how we embody gender is how we theorise gender and to suggest otherwise is to misunderstand both theorisation and embodiment” (Salamon, 2010). The very fluidity of the notion of gender is observed in its theorisation as well as embodiment.

Butler, greatly influenced by the ideas of Michel Foucault and Monique Wittig, puts forward the idea of gender as a “performance or doing” regulated by the power structures placed in a historical context and is performed repetitively overtime to give the notion of a solid identity. Thus, within various discourses, the notion of gender as a solidified category is reinstated to evade the inclusion of shifting and unstable identities which are in opposition to the “gender intelligible” idea of compulsory heterosexuality. The unintelligible gender minority communities like transwoman express their gender identity through performative strategies to negotiate and communicate with the normative society, which outcasts them through the process of othering. These performative strategies are significant markers of the transfemininity in transwomen which distinguishes them from the performative aspects of cisfemininity. The strategies consist of various aspects ranging from the use of language to the gestures and demeanours they use. “Other elements in their semiotic system include expressive gesticulation of the arms, swish of the hips, deep raspy voices, bright and shiny attires, garish make-up, and their peculiar hollow clap” (Mokhtar, 2020, p. 962).

The performance of clap is evidently shown as a strategic gesture that serves as a socially recognisable and highly structured form of physical expression as well as a cultural practice that is uniquely embodied and manifested in diverse ways (Rodríguez, 2014). The gesture of clapping has a distinct and specific connotation in the hijra community and “unlike applause that usually ends with the performance that it felicitates, a hijra clap is deployed to create ripple effects sonically, kinetically, semantically, and socio-culturally” (Mokhtar, 2020, p. 962). Vidya is given training to perform this gesture by her community members by making her hands move at a perpendicular angle and producing the “over-the-top gesture” (Rodríguez, 2014, p.2). This frame can be viewed as an act of proclamation as well as assertion of “a distinctly queer sensibility about the travails of everyday life” (Diaz, 2018, p. 405). Vidya uses the loud claps to express her rage and anger as a strategy to overcome her fear by cursing the man who humiliates her on the train. The verbal banter accompanied by loud claps is considered a performative act by transgender people to defend themselves in a threatening situation. “While the hollow clap guides internal relations within the community, it is in their relations with the world outside of the community that the clap becomes particularly interventionist. The clap is invoked at the time of crisis or when the outcomes are not according to hijras’ desires” (Mokhtar, 2020, p. 263). The clap is effectively used as a strategic performance to resist the heteronormative practices of exclusion and an assertion of the transfemininity.

In Njan Marykutty (2018), Marykutty is placed in a complex matrix of heterosexuality and transsexuality. Unlike Vidya, Marykutty, the educationally qualified transwoman, is placed away from the space of a chosen family of the trans community. She is portrayed as an embodiment of privileges of heterosexuality on one hand and the trauma of transwoman on the other. Furthermore, the performativity is limited to the essentialized notions of cisfemininity, which eventually alienates her from using the specific strategic or discourse markers associated with the community. This compels the character of Marykutty to be an ideal representation of cisfemininity rather than transfemininity. Such differences in characterisation of Vidya and Marykutty also prompt one to look deeply into the visual and verbal cues associated with the essentialized notions of gender. The appearance of the trans characters in both films is a vital point of discussion as cis male actors play the lead role and this not only challenges the authenticity of representation but problematizes the denial of opportunities for trans people to represent themselves through the cinematic medium. The names and pronouns used to describe the protagonists are verbal cues, whereas the haircut, clothing and mannerisms are visual cues linked to transfemininity. The visual cues, as presented in both the films, adhere to the heteronormative formula of filmmaking and addresses the heteronormative spectators. A discussion of the verbal cues widens one’s understanding of the role language plays in establishing hegemonic masculine standards as “normal” and “natural”. The complexities associated with a gender-biased language are clearly brought to light when trans persons are restricted from choosing from the pronouns available in the languages—Kannada and Malayalam. Even though “she” is the dominant pronoun used for both the characters, continuous attempts are made by the society to obfuscate their gender identity as well as mark an unacceptance, by refusing to use the pronoun. Vidya, from the beginning of the film to the end, is engaged in futile attempts to convince her family to address her as “Vidya” and not “Madesha”, her dead name. It is also interesting to analyse the posters of the films as they use the words “avalu” (Kannada) and “aval” (Malayalam), referring to the English pronoun “she” with significant emphasis to hint at the identity of a transwoman, who is not a cis male or a cis female. Marykutty who is predominantly addressed as “chechi” and “aunty”, is called “da” (a colloquial usage to address boys and men in Kerala) by his mother and her parents prefer the usage of the pronoun “avan” (he).

The performative space of the kitchen plays a vital role in defining transfemininity in the films, as both the characters are shown adhering to the performance of the established feminine gender roles associated with this space. In a patriarchal society, the kitchen is often regarded as a space for women and is part of the hegemonic construction of femininity. “Malayalam films, as a reflection of the gender norms of Kerala society, have always captured the housewife as an ideal woman who cooks, cleans, and takes care of the children” (Kuriakose, 2020, p. 287). Vidya and Marykutty place themselves in the established norms of femininity and fit into the natural and essential gender roles of women by performing household chores in the domestic space. Thus, it is observed that the cisheteronormative notions of femininity are used to construct transfemininity in both the films which invariably reiterates the hegemonic construction of gender norms by the mainstream society. The positioning of trans people within the hegemonic heteronormative gender framework not only resists their voices but reinstates the hegemonic practices of gender and duplicates the existing gender binary structure.

Screening transphobia: direct, institutional and symbolic violence

Transphobia, in general, can be understood as an effect of people’s ideas on gender and sex and how any gender identity outside the gender binary framework is comprehended and conceived by the people in a society. Transphobia and homophobia are often used interchangeably, however, the ways in which they operate within the societal structures are not the same. As Ben Colliver explains, “Although both homophobia and transphobia are rooted in cis-normative, heteronormative ideals, the ways in which they manifest and are experienced are not the same” (Colliver, 2021). Beyond these definitions, it is significant to study transphobia as a complex system that involves societal beliefs, practices, power structures and institutions like police, legislation, family etc. It is observed that the transwomen are dehumanised and condemned at large through the operation of transphobia as they are often positioned at the juncture of the intersection of transphobia, cissexism, and misogyny (Serano, 2016).

Adrienne Rich’s (2003) concept of compulsory heterosexuality is examined to comprehend the existing normative hierarchy of sexuality and gender and how heteronormative discourses and narratives contribute to physical, cultural, and symbolic transphobia. Compulsory heterosexuality encompasses a set of ideologies that create challenges for women as well as individuals in the gender minority community, and any defiance of these societal norms considered “normal” leads to transphobia. Transphobia includes “negative attitudes (hate, contempt, disapproval) directed towards trans people because of their being trans” (Bettcher, 2014). The notion of “being trans” is perpetuated through the concept of compulsory heterosexuality. Consequently, transphobia becomes deeply rooted in heterosexism and heterosexuality, which are considered the normal, natural, and accepted forms of sexual orientation. Gender non-conforming individuals who refuse to be accommodated within the rigid binary gender classification framework often face forced attempts by the cisgender-heteronormative society to categorise them within this binary structure, leading to violence. Transwomen are often scrutinised for their physical appearance and gender expression through the lens of cisgender heterosexual male desire, subjecting them to cis gaze. This gaze, as previously noted, evaluates the transgender body and subjects it to violence. Transphobia towards transwomen can be called trans-misogyny (Serano, 2016). Trans-misogyny can be comprehended as a result of the male-centred gender hierarchy where the individual discards the superior masculinity/male privileges to embrace the inferior femininity, causing a threat to the traditional hierarchy of gender.

The transphobic violence in varied magnitudes from subtle to aggressive, causing internal and external harm to the protagonists forms the crux of the narratives of the films selected for study. Direct transphobic violence can be considered “the most visible and hostile manifestation of transphobia. It includes conducts such as verbal aggression, sexual abuse and physical violence” (Guzmán and Johnson, 2020, p. 260). The texts earnestly portray all forms of direct violence and probe into the insensitive and fiendish approach of society towards gender minorities. The verbal violence faced by Vidya takes momentum from the subtle verbal violence from friends, who call her names, to verbal aggression from her family and society. The dialogues among heterosexual characters regarding Marykutty’s physical appearance, coupled with the lexicon employed such as “mattethu” (the other), “9” (a pejorative term denoting the ‘third gender’), and “saadhanam” (thing) within the film, represent instances of verbal aggression that unmistakably signify manifestations of cissexism. Both the protagonists are cursed and abused by their immediate family members, which are framed not only as ruthless forms of cissexism but also as modes of reinforcing and asserting hegemonic masculinity.

Direct violence is often equated to their gender expression, and their body becomes the visible marker, due to which they get exposed to transphobic violence. Their presence in public spaces creates social unrest among heterosexuals, which not only leads to verbal aggression but also poses the threat of physical aggression on them. The body of the transwoman and their dress are indicators of their defiance of gender norms, and this defiance can be one among the manifold reasons for violence inflicted by the heteronormative society on them in public spaces, which is evidently shown in both films. Trans-misogyny ensues from the prevalence of the male-centred gender hierarchy. The rape of Vidya’s friend after the attainment of Nirvana and the thrashing of Vidya by a man in the train where all other passengers remain passive in Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015) are instances of direct violence towards the female body of the transwomen. In Njan Marykutty (2018), attempts made by the group of men to record the scenes of undressing of Marykutty in the street, the man trying to grab her while travelling in a public bus, and the brutality faced by her in the police station where she is forced to remain in the prison undressed, portray the heterosexual desire for a female body and the male gaze which clearly brings out the trans-misogynism faced by her.

Institutional transphobic violence, also known as structural transphobia, includes violence initiated and executed by the institutional regulations and hierarchies which affect the everyday lives of transgender persons. The encounters of the protagonists with the police in the chosen texts clearly state how police use power to intervene in the lives of people. The denial of free access to public services and amenities is evident in the scene where Marykutty decides to use the toilet tagged ‘Disabled’. Vidya, Selvi, and Nani are suspiciously encountered by the railway employee, assuming that they are travelling without a ticket, which is also evidence of institutional violence. Institutional violence, “tends to criminalise transgender people in public spaces, associating them with illicit, immoral or socially punishable activities” (Guzmán and Johnson, 2020, p. 264). The police force, which is bound to maintain the law and order in society, are portrayed in both films only as caretakers of the heterosexual laws. They treat transwomen as outcasts and outlaws and impose violence on them, which is portrayed in scenes where Marykutty is imposed with charges of prostitution, paedophilia and immoral trafficking and Vidya is arrested under the assumption that she is a sex worker. The need for documents like gender change certificates for Marykutty after the sex reassignment surgery and Vidya post-Nirvana discusses the issue of understanding gender in terms of authenticity approved by the medical or judicial authority instead of understanding it based on what one feels within. It also underscores the ambiguity of the legal environment in India, where the sex reassignment surgery in India for sexual minorities is questioned, whereas the medical process of hysterectomy in women or vasectomy in males is exempted in the genital-centric culture of sex determination. The attempts by Marykutty and Vidya to break the stereotyping of transwomen by getting into a job instead of begging and prostitution are opposed by the job providers due to their gender identity. “In employment, there is no anti-discrimination protection for transgender people, and individuals whose legal documents do not match their identified gender often cannot secure employment, pushing transgender people to the margins of society and into vulnerable situations dependent on begging or sex work” (Boyce et al., 2018, p. 106).

Family is an important space that disseminates institutional violence, and the rejection of Marykutty and Vidya by their family members affects their psychosocial development to a greater extent. This makes the acceptance of their gender identity and self-recognition more complex and problematizes the entire journey of becoming a transwoman. Even though the institutional violence from healthcare services is not elaborated in Njan Marykutty (2018), Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015) makes a realistic portrayal of the unhygienic and unsafe circumstances in which Nirvana is carried out, where one can possibly be severely infected or can even lose their life. Despite discussing the reverberations of institutional violence in detail, both films neglect the space of educational institutions to understand the permeation of institutional violence.

Guzmán and Johnson (2020) argue that symbolic transphobic violence “operates through symbolic mechanisms rooted in culture and inscribed in the perceptual and cognitive schemas with which we interpret the social world” (p.9). Symbolic violence intends to emphasis the way society perceives and dichotomises certain notions as “normal” and “natural”. The idea of gender binary codes complicates the way gender non-conforming individuals are seen. The femaleness or femininity is considered weak under the gender hierarchy of the culture, which places transwomen in a lower stratum, often below women due to oppositional sexism. The discrimination based on oppositional sexism, which operates within the patriarchal system, encourages Vidya to fight for her rights and live a respectable life and kindles the fire in Marykutty to become a Sub Inspector. The need for the creation of a different space outside the heteronormative society, where trans individuals can perform their desired gender identity, as shown in Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015), also shows the extent of symbolic violence that has percolated into our notions on gender and the treatment of gender minorities. In the essay, “The Violence of Gender”, Bal (2005) argues that gender is inherently violent. She says that when children are born, they are not given a choice of gender. They are “treated as—a boy or a girl” (p. 531). Both films exhibit the pressure exerted by the family and society on individuals to carry the sexual or gender identity assigned to them during their birth. The rejection and disownment of the trans individuals by the members of their family are strong indicators of symbolic violence which are resisted by the protagonists through sex reassignment surgery. They expose and break the cultural gender fixation to escape being the victims of cultural prejudice. Thus, Njan Marykutty (2018) and Nanu Avanalla Avalu (2015) emphasise the intricate aspects of transphobia directed towards transgender persons by various hierarchical institutions in power and with power.

Conclusion

The visual texts taken for study in this paper can be considered as films shedding light on the perspective of accepting the idea of gender fluidity and are distinct from the majority of films made on trans individuals in mainstream cinema as they call for an inclusive approach instead of demeaning the trans characters. The attempts of the films to debunk the notion of heteronormativity and denaturalise the binary framework of gender is studied critically as both the texts, in the pretext of representing transfemininity show it as an extension of cisfemininity rather than analysing the intersections, interactions as well as tensions associated with the transfemininity. In the attempt, the texts hyperfeminise the transwomen by portraying them being draped in saris, wearing heavy make-up and constantly in an attempt to fit into the set standards of being a “real woman”. It is a futile endeavour to universalise the suffering and pain of every trans individual, but a similar study can open up avenues of discussion to comprehend the parameters of violence and emotional contexts in their respective milieux, which is often propagated through a powerful medium like cinema and address the gap in transgender representation in media. The representation of transphobic violence involving trans-misogyny in both films helps to understand the complex intersectionality and overlapping of different modes of violence, which contribute to pervasive transphobic violence that is propagated mainly due to norms of gender identity and gender expression in the social system established by the cisheteronormative majority. The protagonists in the chosen cinematic texts are not mere representations, but resilient bodies which try to resist the inherent violence prevalent in the system of gender. Cinematic representation is often seen as a tool that propagates the understanding of gender identity by the dominant society, and these films attempt to negotiate the production and consumption of the ways in which gender is constructed through representation and is propagated. The narratives not only highlight the plights of the transwomen but also call for interaction with the transwomen to identify the challenges they face and provide opportunities and platforms to voice their opinions for the resolution of the same and a participatory engagement in policy making. Even though the films are not trans narratives in their complete sense, the portrayal of the stark realities of the lives of transwomen calls for a change in sites of social support like educational institutions, family, state and legal bodies, and security forces like police to be more inclusive and spread awareness on inclusivity of the gender minorities.

Limitations and further scope of the study

The study focuses primarily on two South Indian films, which may not generate an overview of transwomen representation in films produced in other regions of India.

It is a matter of fact that the Indian film industry has a long way to go to bring in films that potentially fit the genre of queer cinema and trans cinema. With the limited number of films available, research can be done on the representation of transwomen belonging to varied cultural and geographical contexts in India. To gain a better comprehension of trans representation in cinema, films produced in different regions of India as well as other countries can be analysed and examined using a comparative lens.