Reporting from Rawalpindi, Pakistan — Wearing a red knit bonnet, matching lipstick and a shawl over her large shoulders and muscular forearms, Nanni gently sought to clear up some confusion as the call to prayer sounded from a nearby mosque.
"I'm a 'she-male,' " said Nanni, a kind of den mother for a dozen or so fellow hijra, or transgender people, in a rundown neighborhood of Rawalpindi. "We all are."
Sharing two small rooms halfway along a dark dirt alley and up a steep flight of steps, Nanni's family is one made, not born: a community of outcasts forced together after their families abandoned them, their indeterminate sex unnerving this patriarchal society -- especially the ascendant Pakistani Taliban.
"We are God's creatures," Nanni said. "Even if many people don't accept us, we feel the same here in the den as if we are of the same blood. We do everything to take care of one another."
Dominating one room was a rough-hewn double bed that the dozen or so hijra, some more than 6 feet tall, use in shifts. The walls were covered with pictures of hijra beauties of the Mughal era that ended more than a century ago, a time when transgender people were not only accepted but also enjoyed significant power and prestige.
Asked whether the hijra family members were all congenital eunuchs and hermaphrodites, Nanni, 35, insisted that they were all born that way. To prove the point, she ordered Akri, a hermaphrodite whose broad face was softened by mascara and a scarf, to drop her traditional outfit and show her private parts.
Hijra have long been stigmatized and subject to discrimination and abuse in the Islamic Republic of Pakistan, with its rigorously defined roles for men and women. But in a landmark decision in December, the Supreme Court ordered that they be protected from police harassment, be eligible for a separate gender category on ID cards and be recognized under inheritance laws.
"We need proper rights," said Noor, a 21-year-old member of Nanni's household. "No one listens to our concerns."
Although nascent legal status is a first step, social acceptance is likely to take far longer. Noor and the others said police officers and residents often beat, harass, rob and sexually abuse them.
"You get used to it," said Nanni, who as the guru, or head of the hijra family, is combination parent, boss and enforcer. "It only shows how stupid their mentality is."
The hijra say they feel especially vulnerable when it comes to the Taliban, which decries singing, dancing and open displays of femininity. "We are most afraid of them," Noor said. "We're sparrows of paradise, and they don't like us."
The court decision to bolster transgender rights, however, has raised questions of what it means to be a hijra. The term refers to a born eunuch or hermaphrodite, a group seen as marginally acceptable because their birth was God's will. But many others even less well-regarded in society -- homosexuals, transvestites, bisexuals and transsexuals -- also claim hijra status.
Some sociologists and legal experts have suggested that eligibility for new ID cards or other benefits might require a physical exam and test to see how claimants urinate.
Wary of being harassed or attacked, Noor initially shied away before agreeing to tell her story: How she was born a hermaphrodite and kicked out of the house at 11 as puberty dawned. How she hooked up with Nanni and the other hijra.
"They're natural," said Noor, without prompting, referring to her breasts.
In South Asia, hijra traditionally have made their living by dancing and singing for tips for weddings, the birth of sons and housewarmings, often walking a thin line between begging and extortion. They frequently show up uninvited and refuse to leave unless paid.
Many in this conservative society believe hijra have a direct line to God, a trade-off for their inability to procreate. So even as society has ostracized them, it's also paid them amply, fearful of their curses, taunts and, in extreme cases, public display of genitalia at celebratory events.
Among their techniques, said Claire Pamment, theater department director at the National College of Arts Rawalpindi, is to praise and flatter the virility of the men in the wedding audience. But if the rupees don't flow, their jibes take on an emasculatory tone.
Recent social changes in the region, including urbanization, have eroded their niche, however. Superstition is waning, competing entertainment is proliferating and more weddings are held in hotels that hijra can't easily get into.
"No one invites us to entertain anymore," Nanni said. "It's difficult to make ends meet."
That's forced more hijra into sex work. Noor, initially reluctant to discuss it, eventually acknowledged that she's a prostitute, "but only if I like the client." She said she makes $3 to $5 per visit.
