On March 25, Parliament passed the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Amendment Bill, 2026 ("Bill"). Despite strong objections from the opposition, including a motion by DMK MP Tiruchi Siva to refer the Bill to a Select Committee, the Rajya Sabha nevertheless approved the Bill that very day.
A decade ago, the Supreme Court in NALSA v. Union of India (2014), affirmed a simple but transformative principle: gender identity belongs to the individual, and the State cannot condition its recognition on medical procedures. The present Bill places that principle under strain. It does not openly reject NALSA, but it redraws the legal framework in ways that render self-identification practically irrelevant.
To understand the extent of this shift, it is necessary to revisit the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019 ("Act"). Although the Act attracted significant criticism from the transgender community at the time of its enactment, it retained one foundational safeguard. Section 4(2) of the Act recognised the right to self-perceived gender identity. Despite its modest phrasing, this provision allowed individuals to assert their identity without intrusive state verification. The Bill removes this guarantee and replaces it with a narrow and enumerated definition of a "transgender person". In doing so, it departs from the expansive understanding articulated in NALSA, which included all individuals whose gender identity does not align with their sex assigned at birth.
Instead, the Bill confines recognition to a limited set of socio-cultural categories such as kinnar, hijra, aravani, and jogta, along with persons with medically recognised intersex variations and individuals who were compelled to adopt a transgender identity through coercion or surgery. This redefinition produces far-reaching consequences. It entirely excludes trans masculine persons from the legal framework and leaves trans women who do not identify with the specified communities without a clear path to recognition. Non-binary, genderqueer, and genderfluid individuals find themselves outside the scope of the law altogether. Moreover, the Bill overlooks several region-specific identities, including Thirunangai, Thirunambi, and Thirunar from Tamil Nadu, Nupi Maanbi from Manipur, and Kothi and Mangal Mukhi communities. By privileging categories that largely derive from Hindi and Sanskrit traditions, the law risks imposing a culturally narrow framework that erases the diversity of transgender identities across India.
The exclusionary approach of the Bill becomes even more pronounced in the treatment of sexual orientation and identity. It explicitly states that persons with "different sexual orientations and self-perceived sexual identities" fall outside the scope of the Act and asserts that they were never included in the first place. This retroactive claim raises serious constitutional concerns and creates immediate practical risks. Authorities may invalidate certificates issued under the broader framework of the Act, thereby compelling individuals to undergo a far more restrictive and burdensome recognition process.
The transformation of the recognition mechanism further illustrates the shift from autonomy to control. Under the Act, a transgender person could seek legal recognition through a self-affidavit submitted to the District Magistrate. While the process was not free from bureaucratic hurdles, it placed the individual at the centre of decision-making. The Bill replaces this relatively straightforward procedure with a layered system. An applicant must first undergo a medical intervention or procedure, after which a Medical Board headed by a Chief Medical Officer evaluates the case. The District Magistrate then scrutinises the application and may refer it to additional experts before issuing a certificate. The Bill also mandates that hospitals notify the authorities when they perform gender-affirming procedures, effectively converting a private medical decision into a matter of state oversight.
The law, in effect, conditions identity on bodily conformity, requiring individuals to modify their bodies before the State acknowledges who they are. Such an approach stands in direct tension with the Supreme Court's decision in Justice K.S. Puttaswamy v. Union of India (2017), which recognises bodily autonomy as an essential component of the right to privacy.
Alongside these structural changes, the Bill introduces stringent penal provisions, including the possibility of life imprisonment for forcing someone to undergo sex change procedures or castration. While this measure addresses genuine instances of abuse, its vague drafting raises serious concerns about potential misuse. Transgender communities in India have long relied on the hijra gharana system as a form of chosen family, particularly for individuals who face rejection from their natal families. Within these networks, community leaders often provide shelter, support, and care to those who lack alternative support systems. The Bill criminalises acts such as "abduction" and "forced alteration" without clearly distinguishing between coercion and voluntary affiliation or between guardianship and kidnapping.
The government defends the Bill by citing the need to prevent fraudulent claims on welfare benefits intended for transgender persons. However, the broader approach remains disproportionate. By narrowing the definition of identity itself, the Bill fails to directly address fraudulent claims and instead excludes legitimate beneficiaries from legal recognition.
Author Manik Tanwar is a Lawyer based in New Delhi and Yugantar Singh is a Lawyer based in Uttar Pradesh. Views are personal.