In the depths of South Africa’s turbulent 1970s , a historic law surfaced that subtly questioned the apartheid regime's strict hold on identity—the 1974 Trans Rights Law.
Enacted under the Births, Deaths and Marriages Act and signed by the State President on October 9, this law allowed individuals who had undergone gender-affirming surgery to apply for new legal gender markers .
This marked a critical point in South African Trans+ history by starting a conversation about liberation that still resonates today.
Yet, the law’s restrictions complicate this conversation , casting a long shadow over the ongoing fight for Trans+ rights.
While the 1974 Trans Rights Law began an important conversation about recognising diverse identities , it did so within a limited framework. Legal recognition was only available to those who had undergone gender-affirming surgery, reinforcing the damaging idea that surgical transition was necessary for validating one’s gender identity.
This narrow perspective continues to inflict societal discrimination, as the tie between surgery and legal recognition upholds an oppressive status quo. Instead of dismantling the frameworks that marginalise certain groups , the law inadvertently solidified them.
Despite its historic significance, the law’s limitations are glaring.It failed to empower everyone along the gender spectrum and instead highlighted the significant obstacles to healthcare access, social stigma, and discrimination that Trans+ individuals face.
The ongoing struggle for Trans+ rights must prioritise inclusivity. Activists and advocates should support all individuals, regardless of their medical choices, and push for a broader understanding of freedom beyond just legal recognition.
Though the 1974 Trans Rights Law was a step forward , it also reflected the contradictions of apartheid-era policies. At a time when Trans+ rights were essentially nonexistent worldwide, this law allowed the government to project an image of progressiveness while still regulating and controlling those who deviated from norms.
Its superficial acknowledgment hid the deeper oppression faced by marginalised communities, revealing how little real change can arise from an unjust system.
🎨 Artwork description, by Dani Strange Ryan
"I was inspired by Asonele's critical appraisal of the significance of the landmark 1974 ruling and knew that the illustration needed to have something that put the legal specifics 'front and centre' of the illustration piece - which in this illustration became quite literally the focal point around which ideas of the judiciary, activism and the notion of 'justice' resolve. I was keen for there to be a different sense of energy between the activism represented below in loose, rough pencil line contrasting with the more detailed depiction of the judges in a colder, murkier blue and grey wash. Whilst the figure of 'Justicia' is partly intended to suggest the ideal of there being a sense of justice which we are striving for, it was important for the illustration to present it as having a degree of blurriness in its bleeding edges to suggest a critical approach to the idea of legal justice or the law being the guarantor of social justice - as events the world over the law is often against allowing trans people the right to dignity we deserve. In this article which discusses the limitations and key context of legal rulings, and in the world of legal setbacks we are experiencing, I hope that there is a feeling that it is activism and the organic coming together of communities in a politics of solidarity which is the only real guarantor of social justice."
To understand this period we need to see it with its faint but persistent whispers of the links between colonialism—the very system that exploited Black, Indian, Indigenous, and Coloured people—and how these histories intersect with South Africa’s struggle for freedom.
While the 1974 Trans Rights Law seemed progressive, it didn’t eliminate the systemic violence and discrimination that Trans+ people experienced. And curiously, it is one of the few laws created for Trans+ individuals without substantial advocacy from within these communities. It was constructed within a socio-political landscape that still perpetuated anti-LGBTQIA+ beliefs.
This narrow approach to gender and sexuality often overlooks indigenous perspectives on diversity. Reflecting on this history raises a critical question: Who gains when legal recognition is tied to a prejudiced history ?
Celebrating legal victories can mask the reality that such laws often reinforce the status quo rather than create genuine equity.
They often arise from outdated, harmful ideologies that exclude those who don’t conform to traditional gender norms. These exclusions highlight the ongoing quest for equality; while some progress appears on the surface, true equity remains out of reach for many.
Real liberation must go beyond these oppressive structures. Trans+ individuals’ freedom cannot be confined to legal recognition; it must reject the colonial mindset that continues to shape societal attitudes about gender and sexuality. Only then can we aim for true emancipation.
The legacies of apartheid and colonialism significantly impact the lives of Trans+ communities in South Africa.Under the severe social norms of apartheid,those who defied traditional gender roles faced severe repercussions, including violence and exclusion.
This environment of fear and intolerance fostered intolerance, leaving lasting scars that many Trans+ individuals still navigate today, dealing with the effects of systemic discrimination.
As articulated by playwright and researcher Oladipo Agboluaje ,colonial rule played a crucial role in shaping how marginalised communities were perceived and treated, influencing legislative actions during the apartheid era.
Understanding this historical context is crucial in seeking real freedom and understanding that conditional acceptance is not true justice.
Living under a cis-heteronormative system that has long pathologized transness, required constant performativity, and erased this grand narrative from our history books is not freedom— it is a reflection of the apartheid regime’s aim to uphold social order in a highly regulated colonial setting that frequently marginalised nonconforming identities.
While the 1974 law was a noteworthy milestone for transgender rights, it revealed that legal recognition does not equate to social acceptance or protection from violence.
The law provided visibility, but fundamentally, it distorted and oversimplified gender into something the apartheid government considered “acceptable.” This flawed foundation still complicates the fight for Trans+ rights today.
Recent legal cases like Lallu v Van Staden in 2011 and September v Subramoney N.O. in 2019, highlight the ongoing challenges faced by Trans+ individuals in South Africa.
Lallu faced verbal abuse, showcasing everyday hostility, while September’s run-in with the legal system underlines its potential to harm rather than help. These instances collectively point to the shortcomings of the 1974 Trans Rights Law, emphasising that while it represented progress, it fell short of protecting vulnerable individuals from discrimination and violence.
The law came at a time marked by complexity, reactionary politics, and the need for validation amid oppression. As we confront today’s liberation struggles, it’s crucial to understand that legal recognition is just one piece of a broader fight for justice.
The paradox of liberation exists not only in South Africa but resonates across global politics, where laws can coexist alongside violence and discrimination. For example, in Mexico City, transphobia has led to laws that create further vulnerabilities rather than provide protection. Punitive measures can backfire, marginalising the very people they aim to protect, thus perpetuating cycles of violence and exclusion.
What can we learn from this history?
Understanding the history of South Africa’s 1974 law calls for a re-evaluation of contemporary anti-trans bills around the world. The law’s limitations, particularly regarding inadequate resources for gender-affirming healthcare, highlight the urgency of this issue.
Even today, South Africa has not yet formalised the systems and capacity to offer Hormonal Replacement Therapy in primary healthcare settings.
Gender reassignment surgery is carried out mainly at the ‘premier’ and inaccessible to many Groote Schuur Hospital in Cape Town and the Steve Biko Academic Hospital in Pretoria, —and only four operations can be carried out a year.
To truly grasp the challenges that Trans+ individuals face, it’s essential to learn from the past. We need laws grounded in a commitment to inclusivity, ensuring marginalised voices are prioritised.
Only through understanding, advocacy, and community engagement can we dismantle the barriers to justice, paving the way for a fairer and more equitable society.
Learning lessons from history, so we can march forward
The UK has seen a tumultuous few weeks for Trans+ rights. With our own so-called 'equalities watchdog' recommending that organisations segregate Trans+ people with separate toilets in response to a UK Supreme Court ruling.
Speaking to activists here at QueerAF, whether from a legal, political or media background - the call they're uniting around and telling us is: Don't comply.
Or as Asonele's piece covers - widen the lens, and ask what in the bigger picture also needs to be addressed?
This new landscape means a raft of new legal challenges, political fights, and propaganda that needs to be challenged.
We can only win this fight if we all get the information we need to cut through the noise. We need to use nuanced, detailed analysis as the base for our activism.
That's what QueerAF does best. That's why thousands of you read our main newsletter every week. That's why we need you to upgrade today.
Our small but mighty newsletter punches above our weight, but we need you to upgrade to become a paying member so we can accelerate the work we do - and get it in front of as many eyeballs as possible.
The UK is at a critical juncture, and we need your support - so we can help the LGBTQIA+ community navigate through it.
All we're asking for is the price of a coffee a month. If you value the work we do, please take action, and help us fight back against the hate.
