When British forces first arrived in India, they encountered communities completely unknown to them. They did not know how to identify these people within the boundaries of Western terms and knowledge, (1) and consequently equated them with the familiar concept of a “eunuch,” grouping together diverse, regional gender identities under a common, criminal label (2). It was also inaccurate: the communities that the British referred to as “eunuch” were all unique and distinct, from each other and from any Western concept of gender. Hijra, aravani, kothi, jogappa: it is impossible to accurately define these communities with English terminology. British colonisers, both in language and law, intentionally attempted to erase regional identities in public spaces; they viewed the aforementioned communities as “effeminate, sexually deviant, and impotent – [figures] of failed masculinity" (4). Unable to understand and control regional identities, the British instead erased them through a two-fold process of translation and criminalisation. 

Although the past thirty years have seen progress in the legal recognition of regional third-gender communities, Western definitions of gender continue to confine the identity of these communities. The formulation of terms like lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, and nonbinary “did not occur within a South Asian context,” and using these terms within a personal or academic setting assigns a Western “approximation of meaning” to non-Western identities (5). In discussions of decolonisation and nonWestern sexuality, it is essential to understand local context and intersectionality, rather than relying on seemingly universal definitions. As discussed by civil rights scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw, intersectionality describes identity and power dynamics beyond a single-axis framework, analysing instead how multiple forms of inequality amalgamate and intensify each other.6 It is a “lens through which you can see where power comes and collides, where it interlocks and intersects" (7).

Western colonial hangover in language and academia is part of a larger discussion on the colonial archive, the subject of extensive critical thought and debate in recent decades of scholarship. Archives, varied collections of primary sources, are inherently joined with “identity, heritage, and culture,” yet, as Louise Craven emphasises, the concept of identity is problematic and difficult to define (8). Is identity about language, about memory, about place or politics? The relationship between identity and the archive is further complicated within the colonial archive. The colonial archive is a marker of of accepted and excluded identity, founded in a process of asymmetrical preservation. It was “created and preserved especially unevenly,” and its weight “tilts heavily in certain directions,” often favouring colonial and postcolonial actors (8). Yet, despite its unstable and limited nature, it is still a primary source of information. Scholarship, especially in Asia, views the archive as a site of endless promise. Despite a growing decentralisation of colonial historiography and a rethinking of colonial methodology, the archive, Arondekar argues, is still viewed as the primary source of knowledge about the colonial past (9).

Several scholars of Asian history have brought up similar points. Christopher and Karikkat point out the institutionalisation and legitimisation of heteronormative identity as an echo of colonial past; (10) the colonial archive positions what is not understood as abnormal, forming a script which fixes, confines, or erases regional identity, consequently warping our present understanding of sexuality and gender. Bora argues that decolonisation must include a disruption, rather than a reformulation, of colonial modes of “production and reproduction" (11). The historiography of sexuality has often relied on the archive, especially in discussions of the nineteenth century, when nationalist movements emerged, imperial power intensified, and homosexuality became increasingly defined as a set of identifications - yet it must “remain alert,” so it does not ignore the effects of a colonial past (12). Antoinette Burton similarly warns oft he danger of viewing the archive as entirely panoptical; it cannot be the sole source of legitimacy in the study of decolonial sexuality (13).

So how do we avoid the archive? We cannot, I believe, ignore it completely - rather, we must be aware of its limitations and strive to avoid relying solely on recovery-based sources. Arondekar notes that despite a criticism of the limitations of the archive, scholars still view the recovery and use of printed work – printed manuscripts and repositories – over other sources (14). Rather than relying on sources that can be found, we must use various types of sources to tie together a discussion of a decolonial past with present-day experiences.

Footnotes:

1. The term “Western”, in the context of this essay, reflects a connection to Europe (primarily the United Kingdom) and America. It is often used to indicate place of origin.
2. Jessica Hinchy, ‘The eunuch archive: Colonial records of non-normative gender and sexuality in India’, Culture, Theory and Critique, 58:2, (2017), pp.127-146, at p.132.
3. Ashitha Mary Christopher and Unni Krishnan Karikkat, ‘From colonial violence to decriminalisation and recognition: An interdisciplinary appraisal of perspectives on Indian LGBTQ+ community’s encounter with law’, Journal for Cultural Research, 27:1, (2023), pp.105-119, at p.108.
4. Raagini Bora, ‘Desi Genderqueerness: The Mystery and History of Gender Diversity in India’, The Feminist Press, 51:3/4, (2023), pp.172-177, at pp.174-175.
5. Kimberlé Crenshaw, ‘Demarginalizing the Intersection of Race and Sex: A Black Feminist Critique of Antidiscrimination Doctrine, Feminist Theory and Antiracist Politics’, University of Chicago Legal Forum, 8:1, (1989), pp.139-167, at pp.140-141.
6. Interview with Kimberlé Crenshaw, Columbia Law School,  [accessed 16 August 2024].
7. Louise Craven, ‘From the Archivist’s Cardigan to the Very Dead Sheep: What are Archives? What are Archivists? What do They Do?’, in Louise Craven, (ed.), What are Archives? Cultural and Theoretical Perspectives: A Reader, (2008, Hampshire), pp.7-30, at p.8. 
8. Aaron M. Hyman and Barbara E. Mundy, ‘The colonial archive and its fictions’, Colonial Latin American Review, 32:3, (2023), pp.312-344, at p.314.
9. Anjali Arondekar, ‘Without a Trace: Sexuality and the Colonial Archive’, Journal of the History of Sexuality, 14:1/2, (2005), pp. 10-27, at p.15.
10. Christopher and Karikkat, ‘From colonial violence to decriminalisation and recognition’, p.109. 
11. Bora, ‘Desi Genderqueerness: The Mystery and History of Gender Diversity in India’, p.175. 
12. Arondekar, ‘Without a Trace: Sexuality and the Colonial Archive’, p.27.
13. Antoinette Burton, ‘EPILOGUE: Archive Fever and the Panopticon of History’, in Antoinette Burton (ed.), Dwelling in the Archive: Women Writing House, Home, and History in Late Colonial India, (2003, New York), pp.138-144, at p.140.
14. Arondekar, ‘Without a Trace: Sexuality and the Colonial Archive’, p.16.

Image link: https://brownhistory.substack.com/p/how-the-british-attempted-to-erase