Pride, Profit and Silence: What Queer Capitalism Reveals About the Lives of Transsexuals in India
Pride should never be comfortable. It should never be apolitical, aesthetic or a seasonal marketing strategy. It should be disruptive and uncomfortable and based on a demand for dignity. And yet we are witnessing not disruption but silence after the Transgender Amendment Bill 2026 was rushed through Parliament without meaningful consultation. A silence so loud that it reveals the foundations of what can only be described as “queer capitalism.” A strange pattern emerges when you look at how transgender lives are treated in India. Trans people are visible when there is something to gain. A to promote film. A brand to market. A Conversation that brings clout. But when it comes to advocating for trans rights in times of crisis, this visibility disappears.
CiS actors have been engaging in trans narratives for years, earning recognition, awards and social capital. Some of these depictions were considered “sensitive.” Sushmita Sen in Taali And Vaani Kapoor in Chandigarh Kare Aashiqui were perceived as attempts to humanize the lives of transgender people. Whether they actually succeeded is debatable – many of us transsexuals still feel that the language used is too superficial – but what is not debatable is that these roles led to recognition and profit.
Systematic caricaturization of trans lives in the media
However, this is just one end of the spectrum. At the other end is a long tradition of caricature that has shaped the way transgender lives are consumed by the public. The caricaturization of trans lives in the Indian media was not random but systematic. In Pati, Patni and PangaAdah Sharma’s character is reduced to a plot twist in which trans identity becomes a source of shock and humor, reinforcing the dangerous image of “deception” in which a trans woman tricks a cis man into intimacy. The narrative obsessively focuses on genitals, surgery, and “exposure,” reducing identity to anatomy and inviting ridicule rather than empathy. This is not an isolated case. From Bobby Darling’s presence in films like Kyaa Kool Hai Hum, in which transfemininity is exaggerated into comedy spectacle, to performances like Ayushmann Khurrana’s feminized voice in Dil Ka Telephone, in which gender non-conformity itself becomes a punchline, Indian media has always treated femininity in assigned male bodies as something to be laughed at. These representations do not exist in isolation. They build a cultural imagination in which trans people are either jokes, shocks, or spectacles, but never fully human.
CiS actors have been engaging in trans narratives for years, earning recognition, awards and social capital. But when it comes to standing up for trans rights in times of crisis, their support is dwindling.
In addition to caricature, there is another category of depictions that began in mockery but then transitioned into a seemingly ruthless sympathy, often referred to as “pity politics.” Akshay Kumar in LaxmiiSarathkumar in Kanchana and Vijay Sethupathi in Super Deluxe fall into this space. These narratives oscillate between mockery and compassion, never fully allowing trans people to exist without being portrayed as tragic spectacles. They invite audiences to feel compassion for trans people, but rarely stand with them.
Rally against the Transgender (Amendment) Bill, 2026, in Kolkata, Sunday, March 22, 2026. Photo credit: PTI
More sinister, however, are depictions that actively criminalize and demonize. Ashutosh Rana in Sangharsh and Prashant Narayanan in Murder 2 portrayed psychotic, violent “eunuch” characters. These are not just cinematic decisions. These are cultural narratives that fuel fear, justify exclusion and legitimize violence against transsexuals. Across all of these categories, one thing remains constant. Benefit. Regardless of whether the portrayal was sensitive, cartoonish, or downright harmful, cis actors and filmmakers gained visibility, money, and cultural capital through trans stories. And yet these same voices are missing today when a law threatens to roll back trans rights in India by more than a decade.
Trans people have been waiting to tell our own stories for years. This change had only just begun. Trinetra Haldar Gummaraju In Made in Heaven 2, directed by Zoya Akhtar, she brought her lived experience as a trans woman to the screen, marking a significant moment of authenticity in Indian media. The Ayesha Sood-directed documentary In Transit featured voices such as Rie Raut, Aryan Somayian, Rumi Harish and Patruni Sastry and presented trans lives in their complexity rather than as a spectacle. It showcased the lives of transgender people across the gender spectrum and across intersections of caste, occupation and interests.
It can be said that trans people have just begun to taste dignity. On the screen, in public spaces, at work, in homes, even within the birth family. And this bill threatens to undo everything. In this context, Bollywood’s silence is not just disappointing. It’s insightful. Are transgender lives only subject to public commentary when there is a film to promote? Do transsexuals cease to exist if there is no release cycle? Why do trans bodies deserve research, performance, and monetization, but not solidarity?
Benefiting from “queer aesthetics”.
Even more telling is the silence of those who actively benefit from “queer aesthetics.” Filmmakers like Karan Johar and influencers like Orhan Awatramani, who position themselves in progressive circles, have not spoken out. In fact, in an interview with Suvir Saran, Orry stated: “there are only two genders“, And also used a transphobic slur in his content. This is not mere ignorance. It is an active erasure of trans existence.
Equally worrying is the role of platforms that enable such views without significant resistance. If statements denying the very existence of trans people are allowed to be taken as casual opinion, this raises serious questions about what is being normalized in public discourse. When trans lives are discussed without putting trans dignity at the center, it is no longer a dialogue but a spectacle. This is exactly how “queer capitalism” sustains itself. It creates the illusion of commitment while avoiding any real political responsibility.
This pattern is not limited to open silence or problematic statements. It also extends to selective engagement in controlled, apolitical spaces that are harder to detect. Never Ali Khan conducted platform conversations with Sanat Chaddha led by weareyuva, discussing both Sanat Chaddha’s experiences with healthy parenting and bullying, as well as Sanat Chaddha’s experiences with trans women, social media expectations, and more. Sameera Reddy has worked with Trinetra Haldar Gummaraju Pride Month Special in 2022, discussing femininity from different angles. While both discussions were able to take back at least some nuance, Neha Dhupia should be viewed as a case study in hypocrisy. She clearly participated Pride aestheticincluding wearing Pride-themed saris, while on the other hand, she asked a question about it in a public forum Participation of transgender people in sports by referring to a trans woman as “a man who has undergone gender reassignment” and formulating trans identities through reductive language in public discourse. These moments are not isolated contradictions. They reflect a larger pattern in which trans lives are acknowledged in curated spaces but avoided in political spaces.
At the same time, there were some voices who decided to speak out. Sonam Kapoor and Zoya Akhtar on her Instagram stories and Ira Khan, who posts about trans mental health through her work with the Agatsu Foundation, have dealt with the topic following the draft law. These interventions are important. They signal that solidarity is not impossible. But they also make the greater silence even more jarring. If a few individuals can take a stand, what explains the absence of so many others who have directly benefited from trans narratives, aesthetics, and work? Why are these voices the exception and not the norm?
Even more telling is the silence of those who actively benefit from “queer aesthetics.”
Brands are no different. Companies like Starbucks And percentwho have participated in pride campaigns and highlighted transgender people in their branding have not commented on the bill and no one has heard of it. This is “pinkwashing” at its most textbook form. Queerness is profitable as an aesthetic, but uncomfortable as a political reality. What we experience is not just silence. It is a hierarchy of humanity. Trans people are expected to be visible, articulate, and available when it benefits others. But when transgender people demand basic rights, dignity and protection from harmful laws, we are met with indifference.
Even demanding that cisgender celebrities speak out reveals something deeper. It reflects how trans people are positioned in society. As those who have to advocate for visibility. As those whose rights only become legitimate when validated by someone with privilege. Representation alone has never guaranteed liberation. Visibility without power is not liberation. It is containment. As Marsha P. Johnson famously said, “No pride for some of us without liberation for all of us.” The Transgender Amendment Bill 2026, which itself was passed without consultation by bodies like the National Commission for Transgender Persons, is a stark reminder of this reality. It shows how fragile the progress was and how quickly it can be dismantled.
“Queer capitalism” thrives on the idea that visibility is enough. That a campaign, a film, or a Pride collection equals an allyship. But an ally who disappears in times of crisis is not an ally. It’s opportunism. If humanity itself isn’t reason enough to show solidarity with trans people, then what exactly are we celebrating when we celebrate pride? Pride that doesn’t hold up in times like these isn’t pride. It’s performance. And trans lives are not a performance.
Mx. Radz (they/them) is a Trans-Masc-Enby-Verbal faculty at a well-known foreign educational consultant and also a queer author. As someone with a fluid sexuality (Bi/Pan/Ace), they write about topics that touch on both gender and sexuality, encouraging queer people around the world to embrace their queerness. They also have experience curating lesson plans that are age-appropriate and educate people about the global existence of identities that fall outside of the heteronormative cis-gender boxes.
In their free time they enjoy art and reading. You will spend a lot of time in a week reading the works of global leaders who have empowered the proletarian people and paved the way against systemic bigotry such as racism and casteism.
