Safe cities cannot be built on a foundation of exclusion. They are built on trust, dignity, and the right to exist without fear. Credit: Shutterstock

By ElsaMarie D’Silva and Harish Iyer
MUMBAI, India, Apr 22 2026 (IPS)

On 30 March, the eve of Transgender Day of Visibility, the Transgender Persons Amendment Act, 2026 became law in India, narrowing who can be recognized as transgender and requiring individuals to have their identity verified by authorities. This bill risks placing already vulnerable people under deeper scrutiny while destabilizing the informal systems of care they rely on.

India’s earlier law – the Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019 – included provisions that criminalized abuse and explicitly prohibited forcing a transgender person to leave their home, recognizing the vulnerability many face within families.

The idea of a “safe home” is often tested at one’s own front door. Harish saw this first-hand. The family of Kamal (name changed), a young trans man, only recognised his sex assigned at birth, female, and forced him into a marriage with a man for “correction,” subjecting him to repeated sexual violence. He escaped to safety, Harish’s apartment in Mumbai. When his abusers tracked him down, pounding on the door and threatening to drag him back, Harish stood his ground. That cramped apartment did what the system would not: it kept a survivor alive.

When transgender individuals can feel safe in their identity, they are more likely to seek help, report abuse, and participate fully in public life. This is why we must urgently revisit the 2026 amendments, ensuring they uphold self-identification, protect chosen families, and strengthen, rather than undermine, the conditions for safety

The 2026 amendments risk weakening these protections. Consider this: a young transgender person leaves an unsafe home, as Kamal did, and finds shelter with a friend or within a community network. In practice, these arrangements often exist outside formal legal recognition. Under a system that prioritizes biological families and requires official validation of identity, such support can be treated as informal, illegitimate, or even suspect.

The consequence is chilling. The very act of offering refuge can come under scrutiny, creating fear for those who open their doors and uncertainty for those seeking safety. Instead of strengthening protection, the law risks reinforcing the power of those who cause harm. Many people, unlike Harish, might not want to take the risk.

This is not just a legal shift. It is a shift in who feels safe to survive.

For many LGBTQIA+ people, especially transgender youth, home is not where you are born. It is where you are accepted. The amendment destabilizes that sense of safety.

Another concern is how the amended law introduces certification processes that require transgender individuals to have their identity validated by authorities. Let us consider the implications. If a transgender person is assaulted, how do they approach a police station when the same system questions their identity? If your identity must be approved, your credibility is already compromised.

From experience, we know that when trust in institutions declines, reporting declines, and when reporting declines, perpetrators operate with greater impunity. This is how violence scales, not through dramatic acts, but through systemic silence.

Indeed, through Red Dot Foundation’s Safecity platform, we have mapped over 130,000 reports of sexual and gender-based violence, and one pattern is unmistakable: violence concentrates where protection is weakest.

In Haryana, for example, Safecity data revealed harassment hotspots near alcohol shops along highways, areas where women reported routine intimidated. When this data was shared with the police, it prompted discussions on restricting alcohol consumption zones and increasing oversight.

What this demonstrates is critical: when lived experiences are made visible, institutions are better positioned to respond. Safety improves not through individual vigilance alone, but through systemic awareness and action.

This is what prevention looks like.

On the other hand, when laws increase stigma or make identity harder to assert, they weaken the very systems that enable such responses. Policies that increase barriers do not reduce violence, instead they drive it underground. Safety must be understood as a public good, designed through inclusive laws, responsive institutions, and community trust.

India’s Constitution guarantees equality, dignity, and personal liberty. These are not abstract ideals – they are the operating conditions for safe societies. When the state introduces identity verification processes that undermine autonomy and dignity, it is not just limiting rights.

It is weakening the systems that prevent violence.

This is not only India’s story. From parts of the United States to Europe, we see increasing attempts to regulate gender identity and restrict bodily autonomy – whether through limits on healthcare access, increased scrutiny of identity, or complex legal recognition processes. These policies are often framed as administrative safeguards. But their impact is consistent – they erode trust, isolate communities, and increase exposure to harm.

To change this, governments must:

• uphold self-identification as a fundamental principle of dignity
• ensure that support systems, formal or informal, are protected, not penalized
• invest in data-driven approaches that surface, rather than suppress, lived experiences of violence

We have seen what works. When institutions listen, when communities are trusted, when dignity is non-negotiable – violence reduces. When transgender individuals can feel safe in their identity, they are more likely to seek help, report abuse, and participate fully in public life. This is why we must urgently revisit the 2026 amendments, ensuring they uphold self-identification, protect chosen families, and strengthen, rather than undermine, the conditions for safety.

Safe cities cannot be built on a foundation of exclusion. They are built on trust, dignity, and the right to exist without fear.

ElsaMarie D’Silva (she/her) is the founder of Red Dot Foundation and creator of Safecity, a global platform that crowdsources data on gender-based violence to inform safer cities. She is an Aspen New Voices Fellow, Yale World Fellow, and Visiting Fellow at the Centre for Protecting Women Online at the Open University, UK.

Harish Iyer (he/she) is a renowned equal rights activist and a gender fluid trans person. He is a veteran campaigner and moved Supreme Court in landmark cases, including the decriminalization of Section 377, Marriage Equality, and LGBTQIA+ blood donation rights. He works at the intersection of law and social justice to build a more equitable society.

Our goal should be a world where women don’t have to code-switch for survival, where they can dance, date, drink, and dream without calculating exit routes. Credit: Shutterstock

By ElsaMarie D’Silva
MUMBAI, India, Aug 7 2025 (IPS)

It’s a quiet code with a loud message: “Ask for Angela.”

In bars and clubs across the UK, women have been informed to discreetly use this phrase if they feel unsafe – a signal to staff that they need help escaping a situation with a man that could escalate. It is a clever, compassionate intervention that has been adopted widely. But during a recent trip to the UK to share my work on making public spaces safer for women, I noticed something odd. Many men proudly brought up this initiative as proof that progress was being made. And I could not help but think: Why should women have to ask for Angela, when men never have to ask for Alex?

This isn’t just about a phrase. It’s about who we expect to carry the burden of safety. Why is it normal for women to strategize for survival, while men are congratulated for simply not being a threat?

But their very existence also reveals a deeper, more disturbing truth: we have normalized unsafe spaces for women and marginalized genders. Instead of asking how to help women escape, shouldn’t we be questioning why these dangers persist at all?

Initiatives like “Ask for Angela” are well-intentioned and essential. They provide immediate recourse in environments where harm can unfold in seconds. But their very existence also reveals a deeper, more disturbing truth: we have normalized unsafe spaces for women and marginalized genders. Instead of asking how to help women escape, shouldn’t we be questioning why these dangers persist at all?

We need to stop placing the burden of safety on women.

We have built a culture that rewards men for not being the problem, instead of challenging them to become part of the solution. Misogynistic jokes, casual harassment, controlling behavior – these are still seen as harmless by many. Worse, they often go unchallenged in friend groups, sports locker rooms, workplaces, and even political circles. If we want change, men must be active disruptors of these norms, not passive bystanders.

There is a growing recognition that this must change. The Mayor of London’s “Maaate” campaign, launched in March 2022, is a brilliant example. It speaks directly to men using humour and familiarity, the way you might call out a mate at the pub.

The campaign uses short videos showing everyday scenarios where inappropriate behaviour begins to cross the line, encouraging men to step in early. No finger-wagging. Just an honest reminder that silence is complicity. It ran across social media, the Transport for London network, and men’s sports platforms to reach its intended audience where they already are.

Similarly, Women’s Aid’s haunting “He’s Coming Home” ad, released during the 2022 FIFA World Cup, flips the beloved chant into a chilling reminder: for many women, major football tournaments coincide with spikes in domestic abuse.

The short film shows a woman’s growing anxiety as her partner returns home, juxtaposed with the rising cheer of fans watching the match. It was part of a broader awareness campaign that reached millions on digital and television platforms. These campaigns succeed because they do what society has long avoided: they make men look inward, not just outward.

So how do we stop asking for Angela?

We start by making misogyny socially unacceptable. The culture of sexist banter, objectifying language, and dismissive attitudes toward women’s discomfort must lose its currency. Imagine a world where laughing at a rape joke did not make you more popular, but made everyone step away from you at a party.

That’s the kind of peer pressure we need. Cultural norms are shaped by what people around us accept and reject. If you want to create safer spaces, start by making harmful behavior embarrassing, not entertaining.

Second, we must invest in prevention, not just protection. Interventions like “Ask for Angela” are crucial safety nets. But we also need to stop people from falling in the first place.

That means shifting attitudes through comprehensive education in schools, workplace training, accountability in leadership, and media that portrays healthy masculinity. It also means funding programs that foster empathy, emotional intelligence, and non-violent conflict resolution from an early age.

Third, we need to engage men early, often, and consistently. Boys are not born violent or entitled. But they grow up steeped in messages about dominance, control, and silence. If we don’t challenge these narratives, they become habits.

Creating safe spaces for men to reflect, unlearn, and relearn is critical. This isn’t about shaming men. It is about empowering them to step into a new kind of leadership: one based on respect, not power.

We also need to normalize “calling in” rather than “calling out.” The goal isn’t to cancel, it is to educate and shift behavior. When a friend says something inappropriate, it should be natural to say, “Maaate, that’s not on,” instead of letting it slide. Men listen to other men. So, we need more of them using their influence in private moments, not just performative posts online.

To be sure, safety codes are lifelines. And until we eliminate violence altogether, they will remain necessary. But our goal should be a world where women don’t have to code-switch for survival, where they can dance, date, drink, and dream without calculating exit routes.

So next time someone praises “Ask for Angela,” ask this: What are we doing to ensure no one has to ask at all?

It is time to stop applauding the lifeboats and start building ships that don’t leak in the first place.

ElsaMarie D’Silva is the Founder of Red Dot Foundation and creator of Safecity, a global platform that crowdsources data on gender-based violence to inform safer cities. She is an Aspen New Voices Fellow, Yale World Fellow and a Visiting Fellow at the Centre for Protecting Women Online, Open University UK.