• Transgender community says law gives them identity, but jobs yet to materialise
• NCHR, ex-senator term legislation a stepping stone to empowering community

ISLAMABAD: For Natasha, respect and dignity were the driving factors behind her decision to join government service. In 2011, she joined Nadra on open merit at a salary of Rs11,000. “I wanted to set an example for the community,” says the only transgender person working as a regular government employee. However, her 11 years with Nadra haven’t been without hardships.

She wasn’t alone in applying for the job, as the authority had announced multiple vacancies for the khawajasira community following a Supreme Court order protecting their rights.

“Sometimes I had to compromise on my identity to fight discrimination,” she told Dawn. “But generally, I have been appreciated by my colleagues and accorded respect. The remuneration was a pittance, as what I earned from [dance] functions at the time, in addition to my pocket money from my family, was more than Rs140,000,” she recalled.

But Natasha, who is also an activist for her community, chose the government job to earn a respectable living and break stereotypes. Hired as a junior staff member, she managed to get promoted to a senior executive in 2021. Through the years, she has worked in operations, human resources, call centre and, currently, is posted at the information desk at Nadra’s Blue Area office in Islamabad. She talks fondly of her “Nadra family”, which “did not discriminate against her on the basis of her identity.

“My female colleagues, a victim of patriarchy themselves, have been kind towards me,” she said, adding it was the men that were difficult to adjust with.

“Some transgender people quit within a month, while another, Ayesha, who was working as an assistant director at Nadra, moved to the UK some time ago,” she added. Ayesha stayed away from the media because she faced death threats.

Over in Rawalpindi, Leher works with the police on an honorarium, actively maintaining liaison between the force and the transgender community. The job, though contractual, provides her diverse experiences. She was one of the few transgender people hired after the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act 2018 was enacted.

Before Leher, Reem Sharif worked with the force, but then moved to the Ministry of Human Rights. Reem, her contemporary Nayyab claimed, was on the payroll of UNDP, while other employees of the Baitul Maal and DC office were hired on daily wages. Contracts of the daily-wage transgender employees were renewed after every three months. Nayyab adds that most transpersons were hired as consultants and their salaries paid by NGOs.

Although just a beginning, such jobs are a glimmer of hope for some transgender persons.

Amid much fanfare, the Islamabad administration had hired two transpersons in the deputy commissioner’s office at a meagre salary of Rs18,000 a month against a government quota. They were happy and the paltry income was a secondary concern.

“I was relieved I didn’t have to entertain at functions anymore as I had a job,” Lubna Shah shared her experience at the DC office with Dawn. That phase was short-lived, however. “I had got the hang of things when they terminated us without a notice following the change in government.”

Shah was told she could come to work but there would be no compensation. She and her colleague are still awaiting their salaries despite complaining for two months. On being asked, the DC office spokesperson promised to get back with a response, but failed to do so despite multiple reminders.

The Sindh government had hired two transgender persons, but they were let go of, while Dr Sara landed a house job at Karachi’s Jinnah Hospital after claiming her right to employment promised by the then-newly enacted law.

The lack of jobs and security of tenure is a result of poor implementation of the 2018 law, maintains activist Nayyab Ali. The federal government made rules, issued notifications and established a protection centre, but their “troubles have not ended”, she added.

Zanaya Chaudhry, a guru and activist from Lahore, shared the concerns, and along with other transgender activists acknowledged the importance of the law ensuring their basic rights, but lamented it had not been fully implemented.

Lack of jobs

That was the reason there were no jobs at all for some from the community. Gender Interactive Alliance’s Bindiya Rana complained about the lack of jobs in Sindh. “After the law was enacted, we only managed to get identity cards that marked our genders as ‘X’. We did not get access to health, representation in parliament, jobs, and education opportunities,” she laments.

According to the GIA executive director, two transgender persons were employed at Benazir college by the Sindh government but they were soon laid off.

Recently, a transgender person approached a high court after the education department rejected her application to sit an exam over her gender identity. She eventually won the case, but the attitude of government departments against the community remained unchanged.

A case against the Punjab government over failure to hire transpersons was also pending with the Lahore High Court. The case was filed by Ashi Jaan, who sought implementation of the job quota.

“In the absence of jobs, the community members resort to prostitution and begging,” Jaan said. The 2018 law could have changed the lives of transgender people, she said wistfully.

Harassment and violence

The scant enforcement of the law has also resulted in physical and structural violence against the transgender community that has gone unchecked, and the state has turned a blind eye to the predicament.

Zanaya narrated accounts of harassment and discrimination at the government and societal level.

Earlier this year, she had to visit four Nadra centres in Lahore to get an identity card, which was denied to her by officials who wanted a ‘medical certificate’ for gender change. Initially, she explained, the Nadra officials thought she was a woman so Zanaya stood in the women’s queue. But upon finding out she was a transgender person, their attitude changed in an instant, she recalled.

“After a lot of bickering, they agreed to issue me the card without my medical certificate. I got it from the Nadra mega centre near the Lahore Press Club after putting up a fight. I am an empowered transgender woman, but not everyone is,” she added.

That’s not it. Zanaya has seen worse. She told Dawn how police officials at a checkpost near Gajjumatta stopped her and tried to grope her. “They did not even know what a transgender person, identified as ‘X’ on their ID card, is,” she said angrily.

The casual sexism at the government level has spilled on to the social milieu. In Lahore, multiple incidents of violence and discrimination, such as eviction from homes, have been reported over the past two months.

Moreover, a transgender woman named Wafa was recently gunned down near Swabi while a group of four came under a gun attack.

The disinformation peddled through social media, notably TikTok, and weaponisation of the rights granted in the 2018 law also affected Natasha at her workplace. She said the hate campaign reversed her years-long efforts to sensitise the public about the community and its rights.

Glimmer of hope

The law is not enough, but centuries of stigma will not wash away in a few years, said the National Commission for Human Rights chairperson, calling for a discourse to address the root of the problem.

“Lots of things have started to happen to empower the transgender community,” NCHR Chairperson Rabiya Javeri Agha appeared optimistic to Dawn over the phone.

She is right about the potential of the law, but on the ground, it has failed to fully translate into gains for the khawajasira, according to community leaders.

In spite of shortcomings in its enforcement, the stakeholders are in consensus about the progressive nature of the legislation. This was hailed by the UN as well, former senator Karim Ahmed Khawaja claims.

“I do not regret it at all. I am happy that the Human Rights Ministry during the previous PTI government framed rules for its enforcement and materialsed the law,” he added, dismissing the opposition to the law by religious parties.

Ms Agha said the enforcement has just started, and with a stronger discourse, the law would pave the way for empowerment of the transgender community.

For Natasha, the law provided a much-needed breathing space that also opened the doors to opportunities for the gender minority.

Bindiya Rana, who has been an activist for decades, vows to step up for her rights and clinch them if needed. She said the law was a culmination of their nine-year struggle and they will resist its reversal in the name of religion.

Published in Dawn, October 27th, 2022