Andhra HC Ruling Declares Trans Women Are Women—But The Fight Isn’t Over

Trans Women Are Women. The Andhra Pradesh High Court just said the one thing that truly matters: the Constitution does. In a landmark ruling, Justice Venkata Jyothirmai Pratapa declared that a trans woman is a woman in the eyes of the law, not because she can bear children, but because she is.

In doing so, the court challenged the regressive belief that biology defines gender, calling it “legally unsustainable” and “discriminatory.” This judgement makes trans women eligible for protection under Section 498A, the law meant to shield women from cruelty and domestic abuse within marriage.

But even as we celebrate this judicial win, there’s a need to pause and ask—why did it take this long? And why does a ruling still feel like temporary relief, rather than the start of a revolution? We spoke to two women on the ruling.

"I knew it wouldn't change everything overnight." —Rayyan Monkey on the Trans Act of 2019

Rayyan Monkey, a writer, filmmaker, and diversity and inclusion specialist, has been using art and advocacy to reimagine the queer archive in India for years. She shares seeing the news of the ruling and feeling, oddly, confused.

 “My first reaction was confusion. I couldn’t understand why the Andhra Pradesh High Court was pa576ssing a ruling like this in 2025, *when the Protection of Transgender Persons Act (Trans Act) had already been passed in 2019* Which stated that a trans woman could be considered as a woman under law. This is the reason why I already have a female gender marker on my passport even before this High Court ruling. This is also the reason why a trans woman is able to get married to cis gender man in India while as gay man is still unable to get married to a gay man in India. A trans woman can also adopt in India.” 

So why the ruling now? For Rayyan, the answer lies in what she already knew: that the law in India may technically allow something, but that doesn’t mean it protects everyone equally. "I mean the woman in question based on who's petition this Andhra ruling was read, is a transwoman who is married to a cis-gender man."

She adds, “It’s not true for all states. And more importantly, it’s not true in the lived reality of most trans people. Just because something is possible on paper doesn’t mean we’re safe or seen.”

What has also struck a chord is the  laws that are meant to protect. “Under the 2019 Trans Act, the punishment for physical or sexual abuse of transgender people is six months to two years. But if a man rapes a woman, the sentence is ten years to life. That alone tells you how the state values our bodies, our safety. That tells me I'm not equal.”

Rayyan's clarity is honed by experience. Her voice is sharp, but it carries the exhaustion of constantly being forced to prove something that should be obvious. “I’ve known for a long time,” she says, “that both by law and by society, I am not treated the same as other women in India. This ruling may change that on paper—but will it change it on the street, in homes, in people’s eyes? That’s a different battle.”

When Misrepresentation Becomes Misunderstanding

For Rayyan, the attitudes are so often shaped by perception. And much of that, she says, is shaped by the stories society tells. “So many people have never knowingly interacted with a queer or trans person. They rely entirely on what they see on screen,” she says. “And what they see is... distorted. I've lost count of the number of times someone I came out to tried to ‘understand’ me by comparing me to some film character. It’s bizarre. And dangerous.”

The misrepresentation of trans and gender-expansive people in Indian cinema isn’t just lazy—it’s dehumanising. “We’re either the joke, the predator, the victim, or the mentally unstable weirdo. I’ve had people point at me and laugh in the middle of the road. That’s what these tropes do. They make our real lives a spectacle,” she states.

Rayyan talks about the lingering legacy of colonialism, how the British criminalised and pathologised Hijra, Khwaja Sira, and Kinner communities in South Asia. That legacy hasn’t disappeared—it’s just been rebranded in cinema and pop culture.

She shared an incident where once walking the street outside of her building she saw a woman taking her child by the hand and crossing the road over because of this villainous representation of folks who look like her. “The 'mentally unstable' trope is rooted in colonial times. When it’s used today in films or shows, it reinforces this dangerous idea that being queer or trans means being broken, unwell. That’s what fuels things like conversion therapy. That’s why a woman literally crossed the road to avoid walking past me and my transness. That fear isn't natural, it's taught.”

And then there’s the hyper-sexualisation. Rayyan explains how portrayals of trans women as fetish objects or “shemale porn stars” have led to real-world harassment. “There’s a rage some men feel when they sexualise me, and then realise I’m not interested. It turns into punishment. That rage is terrifying. It’s not about attraction, it’s about gender power.”

Even the so-called “positive” representations come with a caveat. The tragic victim arc, the sob story. “They make us look helpless. Like we’re just waiting for a cis saviour to give us permission to exist. But pity isn’t the same as empathy. And empathy still isn’t justice. It’s hard to be perceived as equal when you are only seen as an object to be pitied. ”

Trans people or LGBTQ peers don’t need Pride month. They need protection.
They don’t need applause. They need equity.
They don’t need permission. They need to be heard, seen, and believed, every single day.

"We’re not taking over spaces. We’re taking up our own." —Bonita Rajpurohit

Bonita Rajpurohit, the breakout trans star of LSD 2 and an emerging voice in Indian cinema, received the news with a similar mix of pride and pragmatism. For her, the ruling wasn’t about access—it was about acknowledgement.

“Trans women are trans women,” she says. “This ruling doesn’t mean we want to take over cis women’s spaces. We just want to take up our own space, as people who live in this society as women. Our womanhood is different, yes, but it’s real. It’s part of our day-to-day life. It’s not a costume.”

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There’s a quiet power in her words, rooted in years of resilience. Bonita’s career in film is already breaking barriers, but she’s aware of how long it takes to shift an entire industry’s lens. "I feel optimistic. I think it’s gonna take time for the industry who’s not very accustomed to creating trans characters in humane way, to reach honest depiction of those lives. But we’ve made quite a progress.”

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She also adds that people have hurtful misconceptions about being a trans woman. She adds " They all think, that all trans women are tops who are willing to peg DL trades like in shemale porn. That all transwomen are born intersex or every trans woman is a sex worker and gives blowjobs. Lastly, that being trans is a choice."

A Ruling Can’t Be the Endgame

What the Andhra High Court has done is to see trans women as women. It’s a big win. But it’s not enough. This ruling doesn’t undo the decades of harm done by systemic invisibility, social alienation, and institutional violence. It doesn’t erase the daily slights, the cautious stares, the humiliating comments, the fear that comes with simply walking outside.

Legal progress is not the same as social transformation. It must be accompanied by reform in healthcare, education, employment, housing, etc.

And if policy doesn’t follow through with funding, training, and protection, then words on paper will remain just that.

For VEE, a trans man and founder of the fashion-forward label Your Thrifty Closet, the recent legal recognition of trans identities feels like a vital step forward. “My initial reaction was being happy,” he shares. “The legalisation of one’s identity is more acknowledged and protected directly under the law, so it’s definitely for the betterment of our community.”

While he acknowledges the pivotal role of Black trans women in laying the groundwork for trans rights—“a win for one is a win for all”—he also points out the lack of visibility for trans men in mainstream conversations.

 “Trans men are usually a topic that is left out of dialogues when we talk about the trans community as a whole, which has led to us as a group feeling unseen.” As someone navigating life in India, he adds, “I haven’t had much representation on the scale necessary, but as time progresses, people will be more open to every branch of identity that falls under transgender. For now, this is a good start.”

As Rayyan puts it, “This judgement is powerful. But the fight is far from over. Justice is more than a headline. it has to show up in our everyday lives.”