CHENNAI: My earliest memory regarding my homosexuality is my parents’ disapproval of my effeminate behaviour as a preschooler. I registered my actions as unacceptable behaviour for a boy but could not understand what I had done wrong. The coming years of adolescence were spent in trial and error, gauging what was even considered effeminate. This unawareness brought with it physical and verbal bullying in school. I was tagged with several homophobic slurs, none of which described how I felt within.
Disturbed and confused by my classmates’ words, I sought answers on the Internet. Unfortunately, our generation grew up at a time when Google search for homosexuality would only result in a slew of pornographic sites, and it was not until college that I understood homosexuality and came to terms with mine as a cis-gender gay person.
Coming out of the closet
In 2015, I visited a stand-up act where the comedian mentioned to the audience about his start at open mics, a platform for amateurs who wish to take the stage. When I couldn’t find one online after a long, futile hunt, I formed my own in the city, for a few sessions. I would invite people from varied backgrounds whom I met through parties, shared interest in music, Facebook, or college. People from the LGBTQIA+ community, teachers, survivors of abuse etc. would share their life experiences in front of a live audience.
Soon enough, I was socialising with people from the scene and discovered another open mic called Let’s Talk, in 2017. I’m not sure what compelled me to take the stage there — maybe it just felt right in the moment — but it led to me publicly coming out for the first time. Teary-eyed, I narrated my queer journey, and was met with only positive responses and acceptance.It was a strange experience. Years of being bullied had inculcated a certain sense of emotional inertia in me. Why had I suffered so much for 20 years, if people were going to be suddenly supportive, after all this time? Gradually, this experience got me talking about my homosexuality and frequenting open mics.
A sense of safety
For me, open mics were about acceptance that was often not available elsewhere. Back then, I was unacquainted with the idea of support groups, so this felt like a good outlet to speak my truth. This was the case for many regulars, who equated the open mics to a form of therapy; an escape from their unsupportive families. Not only did they find a stage to express their talents and opinions through spoken word, poetry, dance and music, but also came across people with whom they could resonate.
This was, however, not always the case.
In Chennai, this was made possible with women taking charge of hosting open mics when they weren’t awarded equal opportunities at other events. They promised us inclusivity and safety; a claim never heard of in the city. That was all the reason I needed to attend. For most of my life, I have faced verbal and physical abuse from strangers and known people alike; I was even catcalled on roads. So, when they told me they would provide a place where I would face no threat of violence, I was not giving up on the opportunity. For the next two years, open mics became hangout spots for me and my friends.
Learning the liberal code
The audiences at these events were largely liberal and unsaid rules were set in stone. It was a niche society but clear on its agenda for inclusivity and unafraid to call out those who didn’t follow it. I was once called out when I went on stage to perform opera, following a Carnatic singer. He had a western name and so, I cracked a joke about us singing the wrong genres as an icebreaker. Unintentionally, it sounded ignorant and I was immediately called out for it, as I should have been. This incident gave me an understanding of what is appropriate and helped me learn from my mistakes.
Encouraging reception played a significant role in my skill development. Despite being a trained singer for 14 years, I faced severe performance anxiety. I hadn’t even realised the gravity of the issue until I started performing at open mics. Here, everyone stayed extremely supportive through the entire process as I overcame this challenge.
These open mics were an underground haven for the LGBTQIA+ before the abolishment of Section 377. Now, they remain safe spaces but are returning to their focus on arts.I have, however, taken a sabbatical from these open mics. I find that I have gained everything I could from them. Like a steamy relationship that has run its course, this is where I part ways with it (at least until I feel like performing again).