In 1996, Indian-Canadian director Deepa Mehta released Fire, a film that depicted themes of queer intimacy between two women in Delhi named after the Hindu goddesses Radha and Sita. Right-wing Hindu activists in India were enraged, attacking theaters, motivated not only by homophobia but also the notion that the movie was a vulgar, defamatory representation of Hindu goddesses. The riots and violence that surged from this movement encouraged the rise of a lesbian public [?] in India.
But the protests concerning Fire weren’t contained in India alone. SALGA, too, held protests against the violence taking place in India as a result of the film’s release and reception. As discussed in the oral history excerpt above, communication between queer activist groups was taking place not only from coast to coast in the United States, but transnationally. Throughout their protests, SALGA denounced the conjoining of sexism and homophobia with Hindu nationalism. The violent street protests in India were not only an issue taken up by queer women’s groups in Bombay, but also by their partner groups across the diaspora. By upholding each other’s fights as if they were their own, understanding that sexism, nationalism, and homophobia were issues intertwined and shared across locations, a distinct landscape of queer South Asian groups emerged.
“SALGA was also loose. It was like monthly meetings at the Gay and Lesbian Center and parties that were fundraisers, but also just parties and support groups and things like that. It wasn't like there was a political line that they were following. It was very progressive at that time, because who was around in SALGA. But yeah, it was just me and [others] kind of talking about queer stuff in the YSS space.”
Queer South Asian cultural production — from music and films to magazines, newsletters, and zines — also flourished in the 1990s, often serving as a reason for groups to meet, mingle, organize, or party. New York City in the 1990s, in particular, fostered Desi community queer expression and sexual liberation in a number of ways: DJ sets and Bhangra nights at nightclubs, house parties, drag shows, illicit meetings by the piers, film screenings, and more. The South Asian queer diasporic art that was produced in the United States in this period was heavily inspired by such environments. “Color Me Queer” parties were frequent and popular fundraising events in the ‘90s; some queer advocacy groups, like NYC’s Caribbean Equality Project, still hold them annually. Such parties inspired novels like Tanuja Desai Hidier’s novel Born Confused, which described the friendships and romances that bloomed from NYC queer nightlife.
The interpersonal dynamics of this type of organizing was not tangential to it, but central to it. Relationships built inside organizing spaces often took root outside, or romantic relationships or friendships would turn into organizing partnerships. Parties were not just social events — although they were also social events — but places where community was built, funds were raised, and issues would be voiced. This could also become complicated when systemic issues — sexism, colorism, internalized homophobia, and more — made their way into queer South Asian spaces. Despite shared identities, systemic issues shaped the way that individuals, especially women, trans people, and gender-nonconforming people were heard or respected within organizing spaces, including but not limited to SALGA’s.