It doesn’t always take courage to come out; at times it’s just a matter of working out the right words.
For a Deaf queer person in India the difficulties begin even earlier. Which sign do you use for ‘gay’? For ‘lesbian’? For ‘trans’? For ‘queer’? Will another Deaf person actually recognise it? Did you and the other person learn the same sign?
Language is generally regarded as something that is already in existence and merely waiting to be discovered. That is not the case with queer identities; instead, they continuously alter the language surrounding them. In the case of Indian Sign Language (ISL), which is still being developed, taught and recorded all over the country, this change takes place in a visible way in real time, and there is no one who sits around waiting for an official dictionary to be produced.
A person may finally find a word that expresses who they are and yet discover that this word has no common sign within the community they interact with. That does not indicate that Deaf queer people lack a language; it means that the language is created, borrowed, adapted and negotiated in the moment.
In 2023 Himanshu Kansal, a deaf illustrator, created a visual collection of ISL signs for LGBTQIA+ terms and shared it on Instagram under the handle @isignart during Pride Month. The aim was simple: to provide people with a practical means of discussing the queer community in Indian Sign Language. The initiative also raises a broader question.
Who decides on the form that a queer identity should take in sign language?
A language within a language
Deaf communities in India make use of Indian Sign Language, and the main problem is access. The Indian Sign Language Research and Training Centre (ISLRTC) states that Indian Sign Language is used all over the country and highlights the lack of trained interpreters as a serious matter. The numbers speak for themselves: there are less than 300 certified interpreters in a nation with over one billion people. There is still a scarcity of teaching materials in Indian Sign Language and many parents of deaf children know absolutely no sign language.
The issue involves not merely the existence of a sign but whether people can access the language which carries that sign. Most Deaf children have hearing parents. If the parents do not know ISL, then the children do not usually learn their first proper language until they go to school or through the wider Deaf community. The time at which this happens is important for the development of queer identity. Think about having your queer identity such as being gay, lesbian, bisexual, trans or asexual realised while you are still learning the language you need to express it.
The main question is no longer “How do I come out?” but rather “How do I make myself understood?”
The sign can come from somewhere else
Sign languages are not universal; just as spoken languages do, they vary. Signs develop within specific communities. Some have been influenced by English words. Others use fingerspelling. Some have been adapted from existing signs. They are subject to change. A sign which means something to one Deaf person may mean nothing at all to another.
Queer vocabulary is not merely a linguistic detail – it can determine whether someone is able to call themselves by name to another person.
Who creates queer vocabulary?
One solution is provided by Himanshu Kansal’s Sign ART project; creation can arise from within the community. In 2023 he produced illustrations which turned LGBTQIA+ terms into clear visual representations so that anyone could look at them and learn.
A visual library is not identical to a shared dictionary. A sign might be available online without becoming widespread. It is possible for one person to know a sign that their friend has never seen. A sign which is common in one city may be unknown in the next.
It is this uncertainty that makes the growth of queer ISL an interesting subject in the context of cultural life. The worthwhile questions are not merely whether a sign exists; they are:
Who uses it?
Who taught it?
Where did it originate?
Does another Deaf queer person understand it?
People who can hear usually don’t ask these questions because language is generally treated as a technical issue. For Deaf queer people, language and identity are difficult to separate.
Coming out without the vocabulary
It is commonly said that coming out is like having a conversation. For a Deaf person such a conversation has to include additional steps. Suppose the parent does not know the sign? Or perhaps a friend knows ISL but not the queer terminology? What if the interpreter is hearing and therefore doesn’t understand the identity being mentioned? And what if the only alternatives are to fingerspell an English word, type it out, show a word or explanation on a phone screen, or describe the idea instead of naming it?
This is usually not dramatic; it is merely awkward. People make use of more signs than are actually necessary. On some occasions they avoid conversation altogether. When it is difficult to give a name to something, silence can appear to be a choice even though it is mostly because of an access problem.
The interpreter problem
Difficulty in the case of institutions such as hospitals, universities, counselling services, courts, workplaces, and Pride events arises. In response, the deaf community usually employs an interpreter. However, that action does not automatically resolve communication.
In order to do the job well the interpreter should know the relevant terminology and also understand the importance of confidentiality; with questions involving sexuality and gender identity this aspect is especially important.
A 2026 systematic review and meta-synthesis by Kiara Murphy and Sophie C. Dahlenburg, published in the Journal of Deaf Studies and Deaf Education investigated the experiences of Deaf queer people by looking at 27 qualitative studies with a sample total of 176 participants. Language access, the way the community functions, and discrimination from institutions, all combine in such a way as to make it difficult to establish one’s identity. Among the various tensions identified, one in particular is noticeable: sign language brings about a sense of belonging, and since the signing community is relatively small, people usually know each other. Therefore, coming out involves becoming known to a large number of people rather than confiding in just one individual.
A deaf queer individual attending a medical appointment has to think about more than just having a translator. Can the interpreter accurately deal with queer terminology? Do they make the distinction between sexual orientation and gender identity? Do they understand the terms non-binary, asexual, pansexual? Will the person feel safe about disclosing something intimate via a third party?
Studies involving Deaf queer people show that there are problems with communication, difficulties in accessibility, and a lack of interpreters who are properly trained. This issue is easy to overlook since it appears that the interpreter resolves the obvious problem of communication. Communication may take place but a true understanding does not always result.
Two communities, neither completely accessible
Deaf queer people find themselves in a difficult situation. Queer communities in the mainstream often fail to provide proper access, and Deaf communities do not always welcome queer people. This situation is referred to by organisations as double exclusion: on the one hand, LGBTQIA+ spaces which lack adequate access, and on the other, Deaf spaces that are not completely inclusive of queer people.
There are now some Indian initiatives taking action. For example, the Instagram account India Deaf Queer + provides spaces in which Deaf LGBTQIA+ individuals can exchange information and share their stories without needing to explain either aspect of themselves. Support groups for queer disabled people have also been set up on WhatsApp and Telegram. Exclusion doesn’t have to mean setting up a new organisation; at times all that is needed is a place where people can speak freely.
What does “queer” look like in pictures or visual symbols?
Giving queer identity expression through signs has cultural significance; the vocabulary used in speech makes heavy use of metaphor for example, being “out”, “coming out”, and living “closeted”. Many of the labels came from English and have remained in English since equivalent local terms never became equally common.
Sign language functions in a different way: concepts have to be transformed into movement, the use of space, facial expression and visual convention. This process can lead to the development of new forms of queer expression. When we ask how to sign ‘queer’, we are in fact asking how queer identity becomes part of Deaf culture. It is not a simple matter of translation; it involves cultural adaptation.
The language is still being made
To say that “there is no sign for queer people” is to oversimplify the situation; signs do exist, resources do exist, people create and teach them, and Deaf queer communities make use of them as well. There are also differences in how they are used.
The idea of a lack of vocabulary is less interesting than the tension involved. Indian Sign Language is still in the process of being developed by institutions. The ISLRTC was set up in 2015 as a result of continuous campaigning by the Deaf community and it has since been working on training and teaching materials. Meanwhile, the terminology associated with queer identities is continually expanding, with examples including asexual, non-binary, pansexual, gender-fluid, and queer. As new identities emerge, new linguistic questions arise.
Who is it that produces the sign? Who has to give it their approval? Is there anyone who does? How does a sign get from one person to another? Does social media speed up the process? Can a sign become part of the community’s usage before it has been included in an official dictionary?
A different kind of coming out
Many queer people describe finding the right words as the moment they truly recognised their identity. For Deaf queer people the process can be different. Their identity might already be clear to them; the difficulty lies in finding a way of communication that allows someone else to understand.
The same words can have a different emotional impact. A sign is not just a translation of a word; it can be the first time that someone is able to tell another person: “This is who I am.”
Once a sign has been created, borrowed or adapted within a community, it becomes part of something bigger. A language doesn’t merely describe a community; it also helps to form one.
What is lost in the case where the language is not accessible?
Accessibility is usually regarded as a technical checklist, with things like captions, interpreters, accessible venues, and visual information being included. Language access goes even further than that; it can affect whether or not a person is able to take part in the more private aspects of queer life such as dating, coming out, discussing sex, explaining gender, seeking healthcare, reporting harassment, finding a community, and even flirting.
The 2022 documentary If I Could Tell You, directed by Niharika Popli, follows Deaf and hearing people and their relationships with Indian Sign Language. It includes perspectives from Deaf and queer communities and was the first Indian film to feature an original ISL poem. The film looks at how visual language shapes agency, autonomy and care.
Those three ideas, agency, autonomy and care, offer a useful frame. The question is not only whether Deaf queer Indians have the right signs. It is whether they can express themselves the way they want, make choices about their relationships and identities, and receive care without constantly having to translate themselves for others.
Language belongs to the people who use it
Language lives in the hands of the people who use it. It’s never finished – words shift, meanings change, communities borrow concepts and words, and new identities bring new ways of saying things.
For Deaf queer Indians, this evolution is happening within a language that is still fighting for recognition and institutional support. But that doesn’t mean something is lacking. Instead, it shows a community actively shaping the language it needs to express itself.
The question is not about ‘missing’ queer words in Indian Sign Language. The question is about who can make those words, who will have access to them, and whether society at large is ready to learn and use them.
The ability to say “I am queer” is only the beginning; the difficult part is whether the other person in the conversation has not only the right language but also the willingness to listen.
Cover image by Ariedz J.Aeso on Unsplash
