Extraordinary Indians: Akkai Padmashali, A Voice of Change for India's Trans Community
Her efforts have helped elevate the lives of countless transgender people, who've lived on the margins.
Growing up in Chamarajapet, Bengaluru, Akkai Padmashali learnt fear early. At eight, her father beat her in public. She was locked inside the house for months—punished for a ‘crime’ she barely understood. She only knew this: though she was born male, she was certain that she was a woman. And except for her brother, her family could not accept this. “I didn’t know why I was being punished,” she has said. “I only knew who I was.”
It was a truth she carried alone for many years, in a family and society that did not yet have the language, or the willingness, to understand her. By the time she was 12, Padmashali was expelled from home and lived on the streets, facing hunger, sexual violence, and constant danger. One day, overwhelmed by isolation and despair, Padmashali reached a breaking point and found herself staring at a rope, ready to end it all. But in that moment, a powerful instinct surfaced instead: I want to live.
That moment, she would later write, became her turning point.
In her memoir A Small Step in a Long Journey (Zubaan, 2022), Padmashali describes the loneliness of those years with devastating clarity. “In those two seconds,” she writes, “the rope became my family, my friends, teachers, society—all of them flawed.”
Little did she know then that this one resolve would change not just the course of her future, but would also rewrite India’s laws, giving voice to countless transgender people who live their lives on the margins.
Today, she’s a prominent trans rights activist, a former politician, whose voice has echoed through national laws and court judgements. Padmashali began her work at Sangama, a...
Growing up in Chamarajapet, Bengaluru, Akkai Padmashali learnt fear early. At eight, her father beat her in public. She was locked inside the house for months—punished for a ‘crime’ she barely understood. She only knew this: though she was born male, she was certain that she was a woman. And except for her brother, her family could not accept this. “I didn’t know why I was being punished,” she has said. “I only knew who I was.”
It was a truth she carried alone for many years, in a family and society that did not yet have the language, or the willingness, to understand her. By the time she was 12, Padmashali was expelled from home and lived on the streets, facing hunger, sexual violence, and constant danger. One day, overwhelmed by isolation and despair, Padmashali reached a breaking point and found herself staring at a rope, ready to end it all. But in that moment, a powerful instinct surfaced instead: I want to live.
That moment, she would later write, became her turning point.
In her memoir A Small Step in a Long Journey (Zubaan, 2022), Padmashali describes the loneliness of those years with devastating clarity. “In those two seconds,” she writes, “the rope became my family, my friends, teachers, society—all of them flawed.”
Little did she know then that this one resolve would change not just the course of her future, but would also rewrite India’s laws, giving voice to countless transgender people who live their lives on the margins.
Today, she’s a prominent trans rights activist, a former politician, whose voice has echoed through national laws and court judgements. Padmashali began her work at Sangama, a Bengaluru-based LGBTQ rights collective. In 2014, she founded Ondede—meaning ‘convergence’—a human-rights organization advocating for women, children, and sexual minorities. True to its name, Ondede chose engagement over confrontation, working with government systems rather than rejecting them outright. It soon became a pioneer in Karnataka, publishing key reports on human rights violations against transgender communities and sensitizing police, IAS officers, and other authorities. The engagement led to tangible change. In 2017, Karnataka became the second state in India to introduce welfare measures for transgender people, including a monthly pension. Padmashali welcomed the move—but pushed for more. “₹500 was not enough,” she said at the time. “₹2,000 to 5,000 would be fairer.”
Today, the Mythri Pension Scheme provides ₹1,200 per month to eligible transgender persons. These state-level measures helped pave the way for India’s national Transgender Persons (Protection of Rights) Act, 2019*. It signalled progress, but not enough. “A bill about transgender people must be rooted in human rights and address our needs,” she says. “For 30 years, our movement has asked for just one thing—equal rights, not pity.” For example, she argues, the law criminalizes sex work and begging—key survival mechanisms for many transpeople—while failing to address economic vulnerability.
This, she argues, exposes the community to greater police violence.
Her critique builds on earlier legal milestones, including the 2014 National Legal Services Authority judgment, which recognised transgender persons as a third gender and affirmed their fundamental constitutional rights. In October 2025, after the Supreme Court raised concerns over poor implementation of transgender protections, Padmashali was invited to join a Court advisory committee—chaired by former Delhi High Court Justice Asha Menon—marking the first representation from the transgender community on such a panel.
“For decades,” Padmashali says, “we were told to be grateful.” She refused. By choosing engagement over erasure, she has helped move transgender rights from the margins of compassion to the centre of constitutional promise.
“My voice was once very soft,” Padmashali says. “Now it’s public. And you can see the change.”
*Editors Note: In March 2026, a bill amending the 2019 Act was passed by the Parliament, attempting to amend how trangender persons are recognised legally and their right to self-identify. This sparked massive protests amid the transgender community.
For more stories like these, click here.