Queering The Lens

The arts offer refuge to the scorned, give a voice to those who feel they don’t belong, a platform for protest, and a space for self-exploration and fearless expression. Described by artist Louis Fratino as “...a way of seeing something that hasn’t been seen before,” the queer gaze offers a counter to the heteronormative perspective we’re often surrounded by, celebrating marginalised bodies and identities. When queer photographers pick up the camera, they often do so with the intention of representing the complexities of queer folk, frequently integrating storytelling with their own lived experiences.

We spoke to six queer artists whose personal journeys, marked by the highest of highs and the lowest of lows, have shaped their art. Photography then became a space to express themselves, defy fears, come into their own, and offer new, previously unseen perspectives.

Apurva Jadhav, Mumbai

When photographer Jadhav went for her first pride parade, she was not out. “I was so scared of what to tell my parents; I just said I was going to take some pictures. Through my camera, I immortalised the experience of my first pride parade,” she says. The camera has been her constant companion at every pride parade since. “I have social anxiety, and I don’t know how to be around people. So, I use my camera as a shield.” She prefers to be a silent observer, which is often mistaken for meekness. “I’ve felt small and disrespected in large crowds and rooms in which I never felt like I belonged because of my identity,” she says.

Slowly, photography has become a space Jadhav is proud to call her own. Today, she straddles between capturing intimate moments on the streets and high-octane performances at concerts. “Photography has definitely made me more confident. I’ve started putting my pronouns in emails,” she says. “I now try to connect with my subjects to understand how they’re feeling, where they come from, and what their vibe is. The way I see them is the way my camera sees them.”

Suraj Nongmaithem, Delhi 

Delhi-based photographer Nongmaithem has dedicated his art to documenting stories that explore youth, identity and culture. “I chose fashion as a medium because I wanted to tell stories of creativity and joy,” he says. Hailing from Imphal, Manipur, finding his own footing in the LGBTQIA+ community was important, “I wanted to tell stories about people from both communities. I wanted to showcase beautiful people who didn’t have any representation.” His work has brought both praise and criticism. Yet, he’s never thought of changing his style. “There’s no turning back.”

Nongmaithem’s professional journey intertwined with his personal one and helped him find comfort and pride in his identity. “I would say I had very little knowledge about my northeastern and queer identity. Now, there are so many different stories that have helped me become who I am,” he says.

Raqeeb Raza, Delhi

For Raza, photography was never a career choice—it was a form of expression in which he came to find solace. “I started practising photography only because it helped me make peace with my body. In 2010, we didn’t have exposure to different kinds of bodies or identities,” he says. Raza struggled with his body image and sexual identity for a long time. His experiences left him with an unrelenting need to express himself. So, he began photographing himself and, occasionally, his long-distance partner at the time and eventually began the Dainty Stranger Photos Instagram page to share his works. “My shoots begin with long conversations about love and identity. They evoke emotions that we don’t usually feel in our everyday lives and create a safe space for people to be their most vulnerable. That’s when I’ll start taking photographs.” 

Raza’s experiences with photography and capturing his subjects as intimately as he does have taught him lessons in love and hope. “That’s why most of my content is also about love. The one thing that I have never lost hope about is love. Even when times have been difficult, isolating and lonely. Love is something we should be hopeful about, and love will win over everything one day,” he says.

Monisha Ajgaonkar, Mumbai 

Ajgaonkar began her journey in photography as a student at the Sir J. J. School of Art, Mumbai. “I had always been a heavy kid. When I lost weight in college, it was the first time I was getting any attention from a guy, and I started seeing him. Around the same time, I met a girl in my class. She was older than me, and she took care of me. With my boyfriend, I didn’t feel the same comfort,” says Ajgaonkar, “That’s when I realised I liked women.” But she knew her family would never accept this. “I come from a family that never even said ‘I love you’ to each other.”

So, photography became a safe space when home refused to be one. After a stint as a page three photographer, Ajgaonkar transitioned into gig photography, founded her own wedding photography company and has received many accolades for her work representing the queer community in India. In 2014, her work ‘Unmasked,’ about closeted relationships, was a window into her personal struggles. “Everyone who I have dated is still closeted.” In 2019, the Trans Rights Bill was passed by the Indian government, which stipulated government certification to be legally recognised as a trans man or trans woman. The community came out in protest of the bill, criticising it as regressive, humiliating and against the right to dignity. Around this time, Ajgaonkar did a photo series featuring singer, drag artist and content creator Sushant Divgikar, titled ‘Blossom.’ “It felt like I was actually making an impact on people’s lives,” she says.

Mohit Tiwari, Delhi

 “I was a 16-year-old preparing to go to medical college when I realised it wasn’t for me,” shares Tiwari. His personal and professional journeys have featured dynamic turns and plot twists to get him to where he’s always wanted to be—a filmmaker, photographer and storyteller. “I had always wanted to come out, but through my work.” So, when he mentioned it to two of his friends, they were more than happy to be his muse. “The photo was of two guys kissing each other outside in a park,” he says.

The photo marked a turning point in Tiwari’s professional and personal life. Photography, in many ways, finally made him feel like he belonged. “I stopped depending on external validation. There were some people who didn’t understand my work and some who did. I did what I had to,” he says. Later, photography even helped him explore the idea of self-love through portraits of his own body. “I had never been insecure about my body, but I never acknowledged it either. During the lockdown, I took a deeper look and took pictures of my stretch marks, scars and everything. And I felt really sexy,” he says.

Sanjana Nanodkar, Mumbai 

Growing up in a family that was always on the move, photographs meant everything to Mumbai-based Nanodkar. And when she got hold of the two-megapixel camera phone decades ago, it became her way of preserving cherished memories. “I also realised that there was that momentary decisiveness that comes every time you click a picture. I was claiming that space for myself in those two seconds, and I know the choice is mine to make,” she says.

 “I don’t think I’ve had the sense of separation of this is my identity, and this is yours,” Nanodkar says. “It’s not about not wanting to present my identity or speak about it. But in the moment that I am capturing, the idea I’m trying to present is all of me. There’s one part of me that identifies as a queer person. The more I reduce that distinction between this part of my identity and the others, the more likely that what I present is more transparent,” she adds. She believes that the less we separate ourselves, the more equal we will become.

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