There is something I must say, and I will not soften it with polite words. The LGBTQ+ community is no monolith of love, acceptance, and support. We like to present it that way, but the truth is harsher. Wherever there are human beings, there will also be envy, bitterness, and insidiousness. Where there is an Othello, there will always be an Iago. And we are not exempt from that.

Recently, I shared something deeply personal and profoundly important to me. I posted about my mother receiving the Rajshri Khote Guardian of Love Award — an award named after my aunt, Munni Pua (Rajshri Khote), who was a beacon of acceptance and strength for our community. She once opened her home to us when we were cast out of a public space, and for 20 years, her living room became a sanctuary of belonging, chai, samosas, and love. Without her, GayBombay would not have become what it is today.

And then came the trolls. Faceless, nameless, and petty. One of them wrote: “Now it’s like families awarding families.”

On the surface, this is trivial. A throwaway jab from a stranger. But I felt a surge of anger — not because the words wounded me, but because they reeked of vindictiveness. They belittled the very real sacrifices and the very real love my mother and aunt gave to me and to countless queer people.

Let’s be clear: these awards are my brainchild. They are not sponsored, not bought, not influenced. We, in GayBombay, have deliberately kept them free of corporate money precisely so that no one could control them via outside forces. Every awardee has been discussed, consented to, and chosen because of their contribution, not because of their connections. Yet still, the whispering starts. The backbiting. The Why him? Why not her? Why not me?

I even had someone — a person I deeply respect and care for — reach out to me, asking if I was recognising a certain “well-known” figure. Another person I love wholeheartedly suggested I do something along similar lines. But for me, these awards are not about playing a political game or duplicating existing hierarchies of fame. They are about honouring love, courage, and genuine support.

This does not mean that those who are visible or celebrated are excluded — far from it. Their contributions matter deeply, and they too have a place in this recognition. What I will not do, however, is allow the weight of a name or a reputation alone to dictate my choices. I refuse to betray the integrity of this moment simply to appease hearsay. Thankfully, both of them understood the spirit from which I was coming.

I was reminded of the darker machinations the Me Too movement laid bare — where power and malice conspired to keep women from what was rightfully theirs unless they submitted to unjust demands. At its core, it was about control. In its own way, the comment about nepotism felt similar: an attempt to push me, and GayBombay, into bending to someone else’s will. Yet I remain an idealist, and I know this is not ideal — not for me, nor for the community I belong to. For nearly three decades I’ve stood alongside the men I first knew as boys, and like Sister Sledge sang so long ago, “we are family” and “I’ve got all my sisters with me.” They know Munni Pua, they know me – because they are family.

So, let me remind those trolls and naysayers: without Munni Pua, there would have been no Sunday meets in a safe space. Without parents like my mother, there would have been no Pride marches where a parent walked beside her gay son. Without women like these, countless queer children and parents would never have had a space of dialogue and acceptance. And yet some would dare to sneer at “families awarding families.”

Yes — families who opened their doors. Families who stood against society. Families who loved without condition. Families who held this community together when it was just a fragile idea, not the thriving network it is today.

This is not about me. This is about legacy. It is about honouring those who truly guarded love when it was dangerous, inconvenient, and often thankless to do so. And if that makes some people uncomfortable, so be it.

For 27 years, GayBombay has built something beautiful. Without sponsors. Without permission. Without bending to anyone’s agenda. Organically. Honestly. With love. And that is precisely why the trolls hate it. Because it is something they cannot replicate — love that is freely given, relationships that are intricate and strong, a community that has survived and flourished without being sold out.

So yes, I am angry. I am angry at the smallness, the jealousy, the backbiting. I am angry at those who twist what is beautiful simply because they are incapable of building anything themselves. But I am also proud. Proud that we have done this. Proud that we continue to do this. Proud that our awards, like our community, are born of resilience and love, not vanity or sponsorship.

And to the trolls, the malcontents, the whisperers: fuck you. Fuck your jealousy. Fuck your spite. You cannot touch what is real. You cannot take away love that has been lived, given, and shared for decades.

Because love, in the end, wins. And the Rajshri Khote Guardian of Love Award is proof!