On March 30, 2026, President Droupadi Murmu signed the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Amendment Bill into law. For Rituparna Neog, it was the end of something.
Rituparna Neog (they/she) is a queer rights activist and the founder of Akam Foundation, a transgender-led feminist organisation based in Assam. Until recently, she was also a member of the National Council for Transgender Persons (NCTP), the statutory body set up in 2020 by the Government of India to advise on matters affecting the trans community. When the bill was cleared by both houses of Parliament, she resigned. So did Kalki Subramaniam, activist and founder of Sahodari Foundation, who served as the council’s Southern States representative.
Their resignations came as protests broke out across the country. Demonstrators gathered at Jantar Mantar in New Delhi, at Freedom Park in Bengaluru and at press clubs and public spaces in cities from Kolkata to Bhubaneswar, with trans community members, students, lawyers and allies demanding the law be withdrawn. The bill had moved from introduction to passage in under two weeks, with opposition members repeatedly asking that it be referred to a standing committee for wider consultation.
Left Out of The Room
The NCTP, made up of community representatives, was supposed to be consulted on legislation directly affecting the trans community. It was not. In fact, the council only came to know about the bill when it was already being discussed in Parliament.
“We were surprised,” Neog said. “We were actually thinking, what is this?” Members began reaching out to each other individually, then collectively wrote grievance letters to the ministry. Some were eventually invited to meet the minister. Neog could not attend. She was in Assam and learned about the meeting only the night before. Four other NCTP members went and their testimonies and the minutes were later shared with the rest of the council.
“It was really horrible to read those minutes,” she said. The members who had attended, she felt, had shown real courage. “The space was very intimidating.”
What stayed with her was a broader question the episode raised. “We felt invalidated. We felt that we have always been talking in spaces where we are not taken seriously.” And more pointedly: “Why were we even there in the NCTP, or why is there a need for a council like this, if they don’t really want to talk to us or consult us.”
The Question of Who Gets to Say Who You Are
At the heart of the amendment is a shift in how trans identity is legally recognised. The Supreme Court’s landmark NALSA judgment of 2014 had established that gender identity is self-perceived and that no person should be compelled to undergo medical procedures to have their identity legally recognised. The Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act of 2019 built on this, explicitly including trans men, trans women and genderqueer persons within its definition.
The 2026 amendment dismantles both. It replaces self-identification with verification by a designated medical board, and narrows the definition of who counts as a transgender person, limiting recognition to specific socio-cultural identities such as hijra, kinnar, aravani and jogta, as well as persons with intersex variations, while explicitly excluding those with self-perceived gender identities, effectively removing trans men, trans women and non-binary and genderqueer persons from legal recognition.
For Neog, the medical board provision is not just a procedural issue. It is a question of dignity. “In our country, no one else needs to prove their gender identity,” she said. “If someone says they are a man, we never go and ask whether they are man enough. So why is this only for us?” She has heard testimonies from community members who went through such examinations in the past, where a doctor intervened to determine whether their identity was legitimate. The accounts were deeply painful to hear. Nobody from the community, she says, would willingly subject themselves to that again.
Gender identity, she argues, is internal and cannot be measured by any external body. The amendment also conflates two distinct communities: transgender persons and those with intersex variations. Neog is not dismissing the needs of intersex individuals. She wants those needs addressed, but through dedicated policy, not by collapsing two very different lived experiences into a single legal category.
There is also a deeper erasure happening, she says, in how the amendment treats socio-cultural identities. A person who identifies as Hijra or belongs to a Gharana can also be a trans woman. These are not competing identities. For centuries, the Gharana system has been one of the few mechanisms of protection and survival available to trans individuals. “Without the Gharana, many people would not have survived,” she said. The amendment, in its current form, does not seem to understand this distinction, or acknowledge that someone can hold both identities at once.
Neog speaks about her own situation plainly. “I am a trans individual, but now with this amendment, I am no longer recognised as one. I am neither a man nor a woman, so then who am I?” She had always claimed her trans identity, never wanting to move from one binary box to another. “Today,” she said, “the state has decided I am not even a trans individual.”
What the Amendment Does Not Address
If there was going to be an amendment to the 2019 Act, Neog had expected it to address what the community had long been asking for: housing, healthcare, education, budget allocation for welfare schemes. None of that is in this amendment.
Shelter homes under the Garima Greh scheme are facing funding issues according to some reports. Many states have still not constituted the transgender welfare boards mandated by the existing law. “Nobody is talking about this,” she said.
Beyond identity recognition, the Amendment Act also brings in stricter certification through medical boards, tightens the composition of the NCTP, and creates new criminal offences around “forcing” someone into a transgender identity. But does not touch the community’s key demands on housing, healthcare, or welfare funding.
On the provisions around forced begging and sex work, Neog is careful. Crimes like forcing someone into begging or sex work must be addressed by law, she says and those responsible must be held accountable. But her point is that these are not crimes exclusive to the trans community. “It is not just done by trans individuals. We know so many people, they might be men, they might be women, who force children into begging.” The problem with the amendment, she argues, is that it frames the entire trans community as suspect rather than addressing these as broader crimes that can be committed by anyone.
Rejected, Five Times, in Twenty-Four Hours
Around the time of this conversation, Neog was looking for a rental in Guwahati. Each time she met a landlord, or they saw her Aadhaar card, the answer was no. Five rejections in twenty-four hours.
She raises this not as a personal grievance but as context. Even with a law in place, discrimination is routine. The amendment, she argues, removes the one argument a trans person could make when facing that discrimination. “Until yesterday, even if you didn’t have an identity card, you could self-identify as trans and at least have an argument when you faced discrimination. You could say, there is a law behind me that protects me,” she said. “But today, think of that same trans person who is not covered under any legal documentation. What will happen to them.”
She is particularly concerned about younger members of the community, those in college, those mid-transition, those still exploring their identity. A young makeup artist died by suicide after Diwali, she mentions, following sustained online harassment. “As a state, you have given a weapon to the larger society to bully us more, harass us more,” she said. Family violence, cyberbullying and the mental health of the community are all, in her view, going to be directly affected.
On the Question of Misuse
The government’s case for the amendment rested partly on the claim that self-identification was being misused, that people were falsely claiming trans identity to access community benefits.
Neog pushes back on this. “Trans identity is so stigmatised. I am not even getting a house on rent right now. Why would somebody come forward, claim to be trans and go through all of that?” she said. She then asks what benefits are supposedly being claimed: there is no job reservation, no education reservation and scholarship schemes have come and gone without proper implementation.
“What benefits are available? The government brought out schemes like Garima Greh, which was in pilot. And we all know how those are being run,” she said. The argument, she concludes, is “nothing but to bring all of us to the binary system.”
She also says this law is not an isolated development. “Today is about me, tomorrow is about you,” she said. “So everyone must speak about it.”
Why She Resigned
“For me, community is first,” she said. “If something happens that puts pressure on the interests of my community and being part of the NCTP I could not do anything about it, then I have no reason to hold on to that position.”
She had consulted community members and fellow council members before deciding to resign. She acknowledges the argument that staying within the system can be more effective. “But at times, you have to take a stand.”
Still Here
“We existed before 2019, we existed before 2014 and we will exist after this too,” she said. She points to the elders who fought without the legal protections that came later and says their struggle continues to offer some cover. She says she has faith in the Constitution and in the better parts of Indian society. And she has a message for allies watching from the outside.
“People who call themselves allies must come forward and stand with the community,” she said. “Speak up, everyone.”
“I’m hopeful. I’m optimistic. And to my community members, we will rise..”
The Logical Indian’s Perspective
Rituparna Neog’s journey reflects the resilience of a community that has long fought for recognition beyond legal labels. Her decision to resign, speak out and continue organising underscores both the stakes of the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Amendment Act and the enduring strength of those it seeks to erase.
Also Read: From NALSA To Now: Why Transgender Groups Are Protesting The 2026 Rights Amendment Bill in Dehradun
