CHENNAI : It’s as early as childhood that the idea of a family is created for you — readymade and binary. Even family portraits by imaginative kindergarteners boil down to one conventional union of father, mother and child. This may be reality for many but the larger truth is far more versatile, as seen in a recent case at the Supreme Court. “Atypical families” consisting single parents, live-in couples, adoptive parents and queer families are largely overlooked by several social structures in our nation, resulting in struggles to access simple rights readily available to “typical” families.
The right to education
It could be as simple as availing school admissions without discrimination. Priya Venugopal is a single mother and founder of Chennai Single Parents Community to support struggling single parents, who has seen her fair share of discrimination at educational institutes. “During school admissions, they would expect the father of the child to be there. They want the signature and presence of both parents and often, this turns into a compulsive need. The journey of a single parent after separation from the former partner is excruciating as one may not even get the support of their biological families because divorce is still taboo for many,” she says.
The same premise played differently in Geeta’s* household. The adoptive parent to one, and a biological one to another fortunately did not face much stigma — she wonders if this is the case due to her economic and social status — but she was well prepared for it nonetheless. “When it was time to admit her to a school, I went ahead of the admissions to explain our relationship to the interview committee and that I would not like it revealed, as other parents surround you during admissions. This was also because we had some trouble acquiring her birth certificate then,” says Geeta, who adopted her daughter 21 years ago.
While she managed to dodge stigma, Geeta still came across undue curiosity during adoption; however, she maintains that it was not malicious. “There is a certain sense of curiosity to see how we live, how they (her son and daughter) interact and such. I have, however, stopped taking my children to family gatherings for fear of undue attention on her. I remember once someone asked their children to look at her since she was adopted. I didn’t want her to hear anything that made her think this (relationship) was different or not accepted. Her self esteem and confidence is important to me,” she says.
The right to relocate
It could be something as fundamental as finding a home. For a gender-fluid artiste like Smitin Bhosale, even the search for a rental with his partner proved to be a challenge when he had to face landlords with preference for traditional families. “They don’t allow unmarried people and address us as bachelors, which is discrimination. As a dancer, I perform in both male and female attire.
Once when I was staying with my friend at his apartment, I went out dressed in female attire. A neighbour mistook me for a girl and complained to the apartment authorities. The situation remained the same even when I had explained my identity. They compelled me to vacate the place immediately.” In the face of such discrimination, some in the community opt for lavender marriages — where queer people of the opposite sex marry each other — to access the legal benefits of marriages and adoption, mentions Siva, a queer activist, Nirangal Charitable Trust.
They say that this often raises the issue of forced marriages and share that the observation by the Supreme Court may protect people from having to separate from such marriages and give them the choice to live freely.
When Prasanna J, a member of the LGBTQIA+ community, found it difficult to rent a house with their partner of 16 years, they were forced to buy a house, without the luxury of pondering whether they could afford it. “We need to go for bank loans for such purchases but we can’t legally have a joint account. And recently, private banks made a huge marketing splash about same-sex partners but in reality that comes with a host of issues. We couldn’t take a bank loan together. It is under my name and so is the property, even though my partner pays just as much. But once I am dead, his entire investment will be gone, as he has no legal right to it,” he rues.
The right to healthcare
Matters of passing on property after his death became much more of a concern for Prasanna when he had to consider the actual possibility from a hospital bed, when he had Covid. “I was serious, my oxygen levels were down. Officially, he cannot even admit me in a hospital. A lot of hospitals asked for guardian’s signature but since he is not my guardian, he could not do so. I had to head back to my family to get admitted. The near-death experience made me think a lot about the legal claims,” he informs.
These worries carry on to cis straight, unmarried people as well. Ram, the founder of Pink People, recalls the struggles of his aunt even in her late seventies at the hand of the healthcare system. “Three years ago, when my aunt had serious health problems and was taken to the hospital, the authorities hesitated to let me sign the medical forms. They were not recognising her nephew or someone taking care of her as kin. They instead wanted her parents or brothers — which was absurd as they all passed away. They took her in only after a lot of arguments,” they explain.
The right to be your family
For all these “atypical” families, a difficulty in access to legal rights is accompanied by social stigma as well. The idea of live-in relationship is still a taboo. Kavitha Gajendran, CPIM area secretary, Chepauk, Triplicane, recalls the struggles of her live-in relationship with her ex-partner following a divorce from a traumatic marriage. “I wanted to deny society the right to put me in bondage with a ring, piece of paper or a thaali. My mother understood my situation when I explained to her, so did my brother, even though he wanted me to register the relationship to remain on the safer side.
But many of my relatives stopped talking to me, they would refuse to invite me to their functions, and they started looking at me as a fallen woman. They refused to see it as a relationship; in their eyes, I was providing free sex,” she says.
Whether a family falls in one atypical mould or another, it seems society, culture and even some aspects of law fall heavy on their shoulders. And while the SC’s observation may be deemed a mere orbiter (something not directly related to the case), it definitely lends some hope to those who find themselves reaching out for their rights from these moulds. *Names changed on request