Key Points:
7 years ago, on 6 September 2018, the Supreme Court struck down Section 377 of IPC, decriminalising homosexuality
Though this has confered a basic dignity and acceptence to India's queer community, legal recognition and protections are still lacking
The Indian queer movement lacks intersectionality, often platforming upper-caste, upper-class, and cis-male voices
September 6, 2025, marks seven years since Section 377 of the IPC was struck down by the Supreme Court of India and queer sex was decriminalised. Navtej Singh Johar v. Union of India produced a landmark judgement that conferred a basic dignity and acceptance to India’s queer community, but till now it has not delivered equality.
The law can no longer harass and blackmail you for just being yourself. But still, gay couples lack rights awarded to straight couples. There are no frameworks for queer unions, adoption, or succession. Many families and communities hold no space for queer expression. Assertions of your queer identity are often still met with acts of violence. 7 years later, what progress have we made?
The Road to Decriminalisation
Section 377 was a colonial hangover, first introduced in 1861 to ‘modernise’ Indian society -- it criminalised ‘carnal intercourse against the order of nature’ with men, women and animals. It was mainly used to target homosexual men.
The first petition to decriminalise homosexuality was filed in 1994 by the AIDS Bhedbhav Virodhi Andolan, an activist group advocating for the civil rights of LGBTQ+ people. Then came the 2001 PIL filed by the Naz Foundation in the Delhi High Court. After years of legal back and forth, in 2009, the High Court delivered its judgement in favour of decriminalisation.
This was a monumental decision for the Indian queer community celebrated by activists and queer circles. But after pushback from conservative groups, the Supreme Court overturned the ruling in 2013, saying that the LGBTQ+ community was a “miniscule fraction of the population” whose rights did not warrant judicial intervention.
Aggrieved by the callousness of this verdict, the Naz Foundation along with other petitioners filed a curative petition against it, arguing that Section 377 violated Articles 14, 15, 19 and 21 of the Constitution. After many hurdles, this petition was finally admitted into the SC’s roster in 2016.
Finally, in 2018, the case was heard by a 5-judge bench, which unanimously struck down the law. A member of the bench remarked, “History owes an apology to the members of this community and their families.”
After the Verdict
The years immediately following the judgment were filled with hope. People came out to their families and friends. Pride marches drew bigger crowds, workplaces began talking about inclusion, and mainstream films cautiously started portraying queer characters without caricature.
But the change was uneven. Rejection by families, bullying in schools, and harassment at work remain prevalent experiences for queer individuals. In smaller towns and villages, the verdict barely registered. 2 years after the judgement, a queer woman from Uttar Pradesh told The Hindu, “The law may have changed, but my parents haven’t. They still say I bring shame.” Even if the law was removed, the stigma remains.
Parents continue to force queer children into heterosexual marriages. Reports of conversion therapy, though banned, persist in informal settings. Right-wing groups such as the VHP and Bajrang Dal dismiss queer rights as “Western imports” and disrupt pride events. Even the National Commission for Women has been slow to respond when lesbian women report family violence or forced marriages. In many cases, police side with parents rather than the adult queer individuals seeking protection. The result is that while queer identity is legally recognized, queer lives are still frequently treated as disposable.
The lack of a law also means a legal vacuum. Queer couples still can’t get married, so they can’t inherit property automatically, make medical decisions for each other, or adopt children as a family. Many rely on fragile legal workarounds such as wills or power of attorney, which are often challenged by unsupportive families.
Activists argue that decriminalisation was only the first step, and that real change will come in the form of civil rights and legal protections.
Legal Progress and Legislative Setbacks
Courts since 2018 have continued to expand protections.
In 2024, the Kerala High Court observed that sexual orientation was innate to a person, dismissing a petition by parents who wanted to ‘cure’ their daughter of her ‘afflictions’. In 2025, the Madras High Court recognized the constitutional legitimacy of “chosen families,” noting that the right to life includes the freedom to build relationships outside traditional family structures.
In 2019, The Parliament passed The Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, promising equality in employment, education, and healthcare. This was a welcome step in enforcing trans rights in India, that came after a long legal struggle following the 2014 NALSA judgement, which affirmed the right to self-identification. But many argued that the law was inadequate and discriminatory. Grace Banu, a trans rights activist said about the act, "Welfare measures don’t empower my community, only rights do." It enforced too many bureaucratic hurdles to legal recognition and prescribed lighter punishments for crimes against trans people than for similar crimes against cis women.
The sharpest disappointment came with Supriyo v. Union of India in 2023. Petitioners sought recognition of same-sex marriage along with rights to adoption, inheritance, IVF and surrogacy. The Supreme Court acknowledged discrimination but refused to intervene, pushing the responsibility onto the Parliament, like its 2013 judgement.
Justice S. Kaul, in dissent, argued that constitutional courts must interpret laws progressively to protect dignity. But the majority left queer couples without recognition. A review petition in January 2025 was also dismissed. The gap between decriminalization and family rights remains the most glaring unfinished business.
The overhaul of India’s criminal laws has also created new gaps. When the IPC was replaced with the BNS, a law equivalent to Section 377 was left out completely. The section’s decriminalisation had only applied to cases of consensual ‘unnatural sex’, meaning non-consensual cases could still be prosecuted under this section. But with BNS’s omission of a similar framework, lawmakers also erased provisions that recognized non-consensual same-sex assault as sexual violence. Sexual assault against men and trans men is now informally dealt with under less stringent laws, while bestiality also falls in a legal vacuum.
The Transgender Act compounds this by leaving trans communities at the mercy of bureaucracy. Certification requirements give officials power over people’s identities, and the lack of reservations or affirmative action leaves trans people locked out of education and formal employment. As one hijra activist from Hyderabad observed, “The government wants us to fill forms, but not to fill our stomachs.”
Within the Movement
There are also tensions within the queer movement itself. Hijra and trans communities led the fight for recognition in the 2014 NALSA judgment, sex worker collectives like SANGRAM challenged the misuse of Section 377 on the ground, and Dalit and rural queer groups have highlighted how caste and class shape queer experience in India. Yet, in the mainstream narrative, these voices are often overshadowed by upper-caste, urban, cis-male perspectives.
Dhrubo Jyoti, a queer, Dalit writer, asserted, “Queer liberation cannot happen without annihilating caste. Otherwise it is freedom for a few, not equality for all.” Rural queer collectives, often invisible to media and donors, continue to build support networks in environments where stigma can be violent and resources scarce.
Corporate pride campaigns and mainstream coverage tend to highlight stories of urban professionals, ignoring grassroots movements. Activist Kanav Narayan Sahgal has noted that victories will remain partial if they are “rainbow-tinted only for the privileged.”
The Road Ahead
The striking down of Section 377 was necessary, but it was never enough. The next phase of the struggle is clear.
Laws must recognize queer marriages and families so that adoption, inheritance, and healthcare decisions are not left in limbo. The Transgender Act must be reworked to restore self-identification and provide substantive support. The gaps in the new criminal laws must be closed to ensure men and trans men are not left without recourse in cases of assault.
Policy must also go beyond tokenism. Schools need anti-bullying mechanisms, workplaces need enforceable non-discrimination rules, and healthcare systems must end the routine insensitivity queer and trans patients face.
Most of all, the movement must embrace its full diversity. Without centring the leadership of trans women, Dalit queer activists, sex workers, and rural collectives, progress risks reproducing the very exclusions it claims to fight. [Rh/DS]
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