Quiet connections: How support networks foster mental resilience for Kashmir’s sexual and gender minorities

SRINAGAR — In the narrow lanes of Srinagar, a weathered brick house holds whispered secrets. Behind its old wooden door, fluttering clothes reveal a hidden space.

In this quiet refuge, small groups of Sexual and Gender Minorities (SGMs) in Kashmir’s story are one of quiet defiance, where voices hushed by fear still find the strength to speak.

Inside, nervous whispers, soft laughter, and firm resolve fill the air as support networks form, resilience grows, and identities are embraced within the safety of a hidden refuge through shared memories and quiet conversations. These meetings are quiet and private — safe places where they can be themselves.

*Rahila, 22, sits quietly, her eyes scanning the faded patches on the walls, revealing the bare plaster beneath. 

At home, she had long measured every word. Family gatherings stir a quiet unease in her, a tension that refuses to fade. Now, after many sessions with this group, she speaks here with ease — her voice steady as she shares the truths her family met with silence, searching the faces before her… and finding only acceptance, which she says is quite liberating.

“And for the first time, my anxiety wasn’t something to fight—it was something I could live alongside,” *Rahila says hesitantly. “In this group, we simply listen.”

In the heart of Kashmir, where stigma and marginalisation often silence voices, Sonzal Welfare Trust, a non-profit that works exclusively for the well-being of the LGBTQIA Community, offers psychosocial support, legal aid, and a sense of belonging. It has emerged as a rare sanctuary for sexual and gender minorities in the region.

For those grappling with stigma and the ache of social disconnection — especially within the LGBTQIA+ community — it is a lifeline. They come here quietly, away from prying eyes, not seeking attention or applause. There are no banners, no announcements. Just people showing up for one another, in small, stubborn ways that keep hope alive.

“Sometimes, the most important help is simply sitting beside someone as they cry, the silence saying you are not alone. Often, the most valuable thing is their presence—the way they look you in the eye without judgment,” says Dr. Aijaz Ahmad Bund, founder of the Sonzal.

In 2020, Dr. Bund documented his ethnographic work on how the pandemic deepened isolation, disrupted access to mental health care, and forced many queer individuals into heightened vulnerability despite limited psychosocial and legal support. 

In 2019, the Dua Ti Dawa Ti study explored the deep psychological distress caused by decades of conflict in the Kashmir Valley and called for mental health care that respects local culture and context.

Another study, Unveiling the Mental Health Services Gap, exposes serious failures in mental health detection and help-seeking across South Kashmir.

*Rahila, who is bisexual, says her experience with hospitals is not reassuring.  “When I asked for help, my family was called into the room. I was asked very uncomfortable questions about my feelings of intimacy for the other gender,” she says.

Sonzal silently support them by offering counselling, legal advice, or simply a comforting presence. Their trained professionals listen with empathy, respect each person’s identity, and stand beside them in navigating both personal and societal challenges. 

“In Kashmir, LGBTQ-affirmative therapy offers a safe and understanding space for people to explore who they are, without fear of judgment,” says Dr. Bund.

Hamid*, 21,  another member, still remembers the day the walls of home became strangers. It wasn’t sudden, but a slow closing of doors — eyes that wouldn’t meet his, and finally, a wordless verdict that there was no longer room for him in the home that had once been his whole world.

“When we feel at our lowest, these bonds and support networks are all we cling to, when the weight of rejection threatens to erase our very existence,” he says.

*Hamid says that these safe spaces provide them with the warmth of belonging. The laughter, the touch of acceptance in these closed walls, is a universe in itself.

For *Rahila and *Hamid, they find something rare in this space: connection.

In Srinagar’s heart, where stones witness centuries of conflict, these groups whisper a new story: one of courage born from the deepest struggles. In small groups, they stitch together a fragile tapestry of resilience. In a city where their very identity is taboo, they create pockets of hope and healing—small, brave acts of defiance against erasure. Every shared story is a thread in that silent fight—for dignity, for connection, for life.

 The individuals from the LGBTQIA+ community are dealing with anxiety, depression, identity suppression, and trauma, often in isolation and without access to mental health support, says Dr. Aijaz Bhat, a senior Consultant Clinical Psychologist, working in the region.

“The mental health services remain out of reach for them. There is a fear of discrimination, a shortage of trained therapists, and the weight of social stigma creates significant barriers,” says Dr. Bhat, who is a Rehabilitation Council of India (RCI) certified therapist. “Even when support exists, many are simply too afraid to seek it.” 

“Imagine living on the edge of society, with unspoken wounds they carry every day. In such moments, Dr. Bhat shares, a small group of compassionate professionals steps forward. Through trauma‑informed approaches — from Narrative Therapy to CBT and Emotion‑Focused work — we try to help people unpack their stories, make sense of their emotions, so that they can have their voice.

Meanwhile, *Rahila underlines the urgent need for inclusive, non-judgmental mental health spaces.

“We understand how important it is to feel safe when seeking help, which is why we make confidentiality, privacy, and a safe therapeutic space our top priorities—especially knowing the challenges and social pressures they face”, says Dr. Bhat.

A significant epidemiological study found that 11.3% of adults in Kashmir suffer from mental illness, with women, the less educated, and economically disadvantaged groups at higher risk. Despite this, only 12.6% of affected individuals have sought treatment, revealing a critical gap in mental health care access. 

The ongoing conflict, combined with deep stigma and a lack of safe, supportive environments, intensifies psychological distress, especially among sexual and gender minorities, keeping many struggles hidden. This stark reality calls for urgent, compassionate action from policymakers and global mental health advocates to build accessible, stigma-free, and culturally sensitive mental health support systems that truly reach those in need.

In Kashmiri culture, dignity is still largely tied to heterosexual marriage; stepping outside that norm often means stepping into a world of prejudice, Dr. Bund says.

“The act of coming out is mostly met not with love, but with suspicion. Their relationships are frequently dismissed as immature, and they are also subjected to hostility, verbal abuse, and isolation,” he says.

Despite rare community initiatives like Sonzal Welfare Trust and other discreet organisations, most support remains underground and largely inaccessible. There is no roadmap, no visible movement—just isolated acts of resilience and coded networks of solidarity. 

*Rahila also emphasises the need for more than lip service, saying, “the deepest wound comes from a society, and often their own families, that erase their existence and silence their truth”.

The community members say they are denied therapy — some out of fear, others because there are no professionals who affirm them. 

“Every time I laughed a little too freely on the phone, my mother would glare, and my father’s jaw would tighten. My mother would whisper, ‘Don’t ruin us,’” *Rahila says.

But that’s not the only part of the silence that suffocates her. What stings *Rahila deeper is the message carved into her life by the world around her: you do not exist.

*Names changed for privacy.

Aliya Bashir is a Laadli Media Fellowship recipient 2025. This work is supported by Population First. The opinions and views expressed are those of the author.

Laadli and UNFPA do not necessarily endorse the views.

The latest

Written by

Share this article

You may also like

What are you looking for?

Want more?

Sign up to our fortnightly dedicated women’s sports newsletter and join our community today.