Family is supposed to mean safety and unconditional love. For countless LGBTQA+ youth in India, it all too often means rejection, pain, and loss. Many children are forced to hide who they are, fearing isolation or violence if they reveal themselves.
“I never knew what was harder: hiding who I am every day or finally telling my parents and losing them. When my mother cried that she'd lost her ‘real’ son, I just wanted to disappear. The care home felt cold, but at least I could breathe as myself” (Queerbeat, 2025).
Others recall living with abuse and mistrust: “When I first tried coming out when I was eight, he physically abused me... Later, as an adult, any time my father would reach out, his homophobia would come out... I quickly learnt not to trust anyone with my sexuality” (Autostraddle, 2024).
These are not isolated incidents; they reflect the reality for millions of children in India. After family rejection, LGBTQA+ youth are up to four times more likely to attempt suicide (Newport Academy, 2024). In India, suicide ideation among transgender youth can be as high as 31 per cent (Chandra et al., 2016). Globally, nearly half of trans and non-binary youth seriously consider suicide each year (The Trevor Project, 2024).
Yet beneath this darkness is a truth that Indian law has started to recognise: family is not just biological, but defined by bonds of care and acceptance. When biological families fail, the state must step in to ensure no child stands alone. Legal scholar and LGBTQ+ advocate Dr Vivek Divan states, “Laws such as this recognise that the experience of a family... is not and should not be confined to a singular idea... When families fail, our laws must step in and broaden the definition of belonging” (Scroll, 2025). Youth themselves echo this: “Family is supposed to be where you are safe. When that turns on you, the pain never leaves—even if you survive” (Health Collective, 2018).
The Weight of Culture, the Chains of Convention
The rejection faced by queer youth is not random—it is built into tradition. Heteronormative expectations, religious pressure, rigid gender norms, and secrecy create a system that enforces conformity by punishing difference. Transgender children are blamed for dishonour; gay and lesbian youth are accused of being selfish or immoral. Bisexual and asexual youth endure erasure altogether, and gender-nonconforming children are forced through “correction” into prayer, therapy, or abuse, viewed as an “illness” to be “cured” (Scroll, 2025).
But India’s Constitution and laws offer a solution: equality, protection from discrimination, and dignity for every child.
India’s Legal Promise: Constitution, CRC, and the JJ Act
The Indian Constitution guarantees every citizen equality (Article 14), prohibits discrimination (Articles 15 and 16), and promises child protection (Article 39) (UNICEF India Overview). In 1992, India ratified the UN Convention on the Rights of the Child (CRC), declaring that every child deserves safety, belonging, and the freedom to be themselves (UNICEF India Overview).
The Juvenile Justice (Care and Protection of Children) Act (JJ Act), thoroughly revised in 2015, enshrines every child’s right to family care, rehabilitation, and protection (JJ Act official text). Other laws—POCSO (2012), RTE (2009), and the Prohibition of Child Marriage Act (2006)—strengthen these guarantees, but the JJ Act remains the single comprehensive legal platform for children needing care, protection, foster or adoptive placement, and rehabilitation (JJ Act official text).
The JJ Act’s Pledge to Queer Youth
The 2015 JJ Act declares that every child deserves family and dignity. Family restoration and reintegration are prioritised, with institutional placement considered only an “absolute last resort” (General Principles of Juvenile Justice, 2018). Child Welfare Committees (CWCs) must ensure loving, safe placements, working to prevent re-traumatisation.
Crucially, following the 2014 NALSA judgment recognising transgender persons as a “third gender”, single individuals (regardless of sexual orientation or gender identity) can adopt under secular provisions (Press Release, 2025). However, joint adoptions by queer couples remain blocked—the JJ Act requires a “stable marital relationship”, which does not extend to same-sex partnerships under current law (Supreme Court of India, 2023).
Even single LGBTQ+ adopters face discrimination: case workers may question “fitness”, suggest conversion therapy, or express concern over “what the neighbours will think” (JLRJS, 2025). Infrastructure gaps mean some districts lack fully functioning CWCs, and vulnerable queer youth may be returned to abusive homes or left in institutions that worsen trauma (CELCIS, 2024). The law remains silent on affirming mental health interventions, leaving many queer youth with shelter, but not sanctuary (Queerbeat, 2025). When restoration fails, rates of reoffending, substance abuse, and mental health crises rise sharply (The Hindu, 2025).
Lighting the Way: Acts of Change and Compassion
Progress is real and growing. Parents are choosing affirmation, and organisations such as Sweekar and the Indian Rainbow Parents Network offer support—affirming families see dramatic reductions in suicide attempts and mental health crises (Sweekar; Indian Rainbow Parents; Trevor Project, 2019).
Schools are increasingly providing LGBTQ+ inclusion workshops, while community centres such as the Humsafar Trust and LGBTQ+ Youthline offer mentorship and safe spaces (The News Minute, 2024; Humsafar Trust). Queer-affirmative therapy is spreading within CWCs, and organisations like the Centre for Transgender Health and the Psychology Foundation of India are pioneering improved care (TCR India; Centre for Transgender Health).
Activist networks—including Sangya Helpline, the Humsafar Trust Legal Cell, and Nazariya—run legal aid services, 24/7 support, and peer counselling, with documented life-saving interventions (Sangya Helpline; Nazariya QFRG).
Judicial courage is also growing. The Madras High Court’s 2025 ruling recognised “chosen families” under Article 21 of the Constitution (Times of India, 2025). In Kerala, Tamil Nadu, and Maharashtra, courts are protecting queer minors against forced institutionalisation, recognising gender identity as a right requiring protection, not intervention.
CWCs are undergoing transformation: sensitivity training and specialised protocols have improved outcomes, with some reporting a 40 per cent improvement in reintegration compared to the national average of below 20 per cent (Open Source: State-Level Programme Evaluations).
The Power of Small Acts
“A hug, a teacher’s support, a message from a helpline volunteer in the night—all these little gestures tell us the world might be opening,” says a queer youth leader (Queerbeat Summit, 2025). From a trans girl affirmed in institutional care to a gay youth supported through legal aid and foster placement, individual acts of love and courage are changing lives.
Every compassionate act—from parents, counsellors, judges, and peers—builds a new legacy where the law’s promise meets real belonging. Change is slow, but every gesture challenges the narrative of shame and worthlessness.
A Future for All Our Children
Ten years after the revised JJ Act, we stand at a crossroads. The next decade must ensure that no queer child is left in silence, no chosen family remains invisible, and every shelter becomes a place of true belonging. Family is not just blood—it is love and acceptance. If biology cannot provide it, law and compassion must. On this anniversary, it is time to pledge: no LGBTQA+ child will be left outside. Every child deserves to come home.
The writer is an activist and specialist in gender issues, with a focus on gender rights; views are personal
