In a country as vast and layered as India, respect and recognition often appear abundant. Yet they are rarely uncomplicated. Society readily celebrates those whose work brings influence, wealth, or global stature, while remaining more hesitant toward those who challenge established norms. Fear of social isolation quietly shapes what is applauded and what is ignored, who is embraced and who is merely tolerated.

It is within this space – between visibility and acceptance – that moments like Sam Altman holding Prime Minister Narendra Modi’s hand on stage at the India AI Impact Summit take on a deeper meaning. His sexuality raises little public concern because of the influence and innovation he brings to the table, as it should.

An openly gay personality like Atlman sharing the centre stage with some of the biggest world leaders can be viewed as a clear win for the LGBTQ+ community, after years of being marginalised to finally being seen as more than their sexuality.

However, the much positive spotlight given to Altman’s photograph with PM Modi raises a critical question: would an openly queer Indian individual receive the same recognition and praise in similar circumstances?

Trailblazers like Apple CEO Tim Cook and OpenAI CEO Sam Altman – both openly gay – have been welcomed with open arms by leaders and industry giants from around the world, with little to no conversation about their sexuality. The same can not be said about the personalities in India.

Prince Manvendra Singh Gohil, India’s first openly gay royal, faced ostracism, harassment, and erasure. Some may note that Gohil came out in 2006, when awareness of LGBTQ+ issues was limited. However, even today, societal acceptance of openly queer individuals remains constrained in many contexts. Gohil knew he was gay from age 12 but stayed closeted for decades, enduring shock therapy, conversion therapy, a forced marriage, and loss of inheritance. When he came out at 41, homosexuality was still illegal in India, drawing nationwide attention.

After the Supreme Court decriminalised homosexuality in 2018, Gohil opened 15 acres of palace grounds to shelter vulnerable gay and transgender individuals. He continues to advocate for same-sex marriage, inheritance rights, adoption rights, and a ban on conversion therapy.

The contrast between Altman’s public acceptance and Gohil’s struggles highlights how societal responses to queer individuals often depend on context.

This pattern of selective acceptance isn’t just Indian. Even figures like US President Donald Trump, who openly opposes LGBTQ+ rights, have rolled back programs such as gender-affirming care, and removed queer references from federal resources, while still supporting massive projects like OpenAI’s $500 billion Stargate Project with SoftBank and Oracle. The US Department of Defence also awarded OpenAI a $200 million contract for AI tool development.

Shifting focus to another arena, WPL 2026 saw many queer players like Natalie Sciver-Brunt, Marizanne Kapp, Heather Knight, Lizelle Lee, and Ashleigh Gardner who competed at the highest level with remarkable skill. When I mentioned to a friend that Gardner has a wife, their surprise was palpable; they had never imagined an athlete who is so good at what they do could be queer. Yet their respect for her talent did not change, in part because she is a distant figure of entertainment and her queerness does not challenge their personal lives or beliefs. It made me wonder why society so readily accepts celebrities or people from other countries, but struggles to extend the same respect to those in our own circles.

Some argue that the fashion or film industry allows a degree of acceptance, but visibility there often comes with protection from wealth or status. Speculation about certain figures may be tolerated, yet for most, daily life remains a test of caution. Recognition is not the same as acceptance, and visibility alone does not erase social bias.

History also reveals that queerness has long been part of Indian society. Across ancient, medieval, and early modern India, diverse sexualities were acknowledged and woven into cultural life. The Kama Sutra documents same-sex practices and a broad spectrum of gender and sexual identities, emphasising trust and love alongside desire. Even Emperor Babur, in his Baburnama, recorded deep affection for a male companion, Baburi, showing that same-sex desire was recognised among elites. For centuries, queer identities were neither hidden nor uniformly condemned, and they were an integral part of society.

Even with the repeal of Article 377, societal acceptance continues to evolve. Legal changes mark milestones but do not instantly reshape social attitudes. Many Indians remain fearful of coming out, and societal change is slow, often contingent on political convenience.

Did the repeal of Article 377 reflect a shift in social empathy — or did it simply signal a legal correction India was ready to showcase?

India often speaks the language of modernity and progress. Yet the distance between law and lived reality remains visible. Legal victories like the repeal of Article 377 are milestones, but true acceptance where queer lives are valued regardless of status, fame, or influence remains the work ahead.