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| An intersectional group portrait of three women activists, including a wheelchair user, united in solidarity, holding an advocacy sign in an outdoor park. (AI-generated image) |
“A socially sensitised judge, in our opinion, is a better statutory armour in cases of crime against women than long clauses of penal provisions, containing complex exceptions and provisos.” - Dinesh v. State of Rajasthan, para 6.
Introduction
The concept of intersectionality has been recognised as a concept with utmost sophistication by the court, but the statutory framework to punish it is still missing. Marginalised and disabled people have to endure a lot, particularly women, in cases of intersectional sexual violence. First, caste and disability make women acutely vulnerable to sexual violence. Then, the non-recognition of their hardship by the criminal justice authorities often leads to secondary victimisation.
Power rapes
A deaf and mute Dalit woman who was subjected to rape was not disabled first, then a Dalit and then a woman; she experienced all these identities simultaneously as a disabled Dalit woman. This intersection of multiple identities made her acutely vulnerable and an easy target for sexual violence. This sexual violence is a result of power dynamics in society; these are power rapes by the privileged caste men, by the abled men, taking advantage of the helplessness of women belonging to the lower rung of society.
Caste, sexual violence and the history
The first ignored case of intersectionality was that of Bhanwari Devi’s. Bhanwari Devi's experience was a case of caste-based violence, but it was presented as an instance of "sexual harassment at the workplace". This case also manifested the existence of judicial stereotyping about caste, and the caste-based sexual violence remains unaddressed throughout, leading to secondary victimisation.
In the Khairlanji Massacre case, a Dalit woman who was fighting for her land rights against the privileged caste people was raped along with her three daughters. A mob of dominant-caste “paraded them naked, raped a Dalit woman and her daughter, and lynched them in public”. The trial court refused to invoke the Scheduled Castes and the Scheduled Tribes (Prevention of Atrocities) Act, 1989 [“SC/ST Act, 1989”], citing that revenge was not motivated by the victim’s caste identity. In the Bhagana Gang Rape incident (2014), “four minor Dalit girls belonging to the Dhanak community were abducted, drugged, and raped by a group of upper-caste Jat men as retaliation for Dalit resistance to Jat takeover of communal lands.”
The courts, too, have a polarised view about what to do with caste. The Himachal Pradesh High Court was of the view:
‘The mentioning of caste/status separately in criminal proceedings is a colonial legacy and requires it to be stopped. We should, as a public policy, shun the caste system.”
The apex court in the Aparna Bhatt case stated:
“A judge shall be aware of, and understand, diversity in society and differences arising from various sources, including but not limited to race, colour, sex, religion, national origin, caste, disability, age, marital status, sexual orientation, social and economic status and other like causes.”
The leitmotif behind recognising these intersecting identities is to expose the power imbalance between the victim and the accused. When courts fail to account for these power dynamics through appropriate sentencing, they reinforce the very inequalities that enable such violence.
Caste and injustice
The regular setting aside of convictions under the SC/ST Act, 1989 highlights that the law is misused and amounts to the erasure of caste-based violence faced by women. The regular setting aside of the SC/ST Act, 1989, is due to the strict interpretation of Section 3(2)(v), which makes it impossible to prove the intention, resulting in a grave miscarriage of justice. Originally, the sine qua non to apply Section 3(2)(v) of the SC/ST Act, 1989 was that an offence should have been committed against a person ‘on the ground’ that such person belonged to the SC/ST community. But after the 2015 amendment, the words “on the ground that” under Section 3(2)(v) were substituted with “knowing that such person is a member of a Scheduled Caste or Scheduled Tribe”. In either case, it was difficult for the prosecution to establish the case.
There are several examples where convictions under the SC/ST Act, 1989, were set aside because the crime was not committed only ‘on the ground’ that the victim belongs to the SC/ST community:
In Ramdas & Ors v. State of Maharashtra, the prosecutrix belongs to the Pardhi caste, and she was raped by the accused. The prosecutrix and the accused were residents of the same village. In Raghuveer Lodh v. State of U.P., the accused, who raped the victim, were acquainted with each other and belonged to the same village. The conviction under the SC/ST Act was set aside. In Ashrafi v. State of U.P., the accused forcibly entered the victim’s residence and committed rape. The accused and the victim knew each other, as they were from the same locality. However, the conviction under Section 3(2)(v) of the SC/ST Act, 1989 was set aside. In Patan Jamal Vali v. State of Andhra Pradesh, the accused knew the family of the victim very well, as they were from the same village. But again, in this case, the punishment under the SC/ST Act, 1989 was set aside. In Puttu Lal v. State of Uttar Pradesh, the Allahabad High Court set aside the conviction under the SC/ST Act, 1989 even though the victim and the accused were residents of the same village.
What kind of evidence?
This raises an important question as to what kind of evidence courts expect to prove that the offence was motivated by caste, especially when familiarity between the accused and victim may itself indicate awareness of caste identity. Otherwise, all the cases would end up like Dinesh @ Buddha vs. State of Rajasthan, where the accused actually did not know the victim and the conviction under the SC/ST Act, 1989 genuinely needed to be set aside.
Why it matters now?
Why caste-based violence needs attention now is particularly due to the reason that it has increased over the past few years. National Crime Records Bureau, Crime in India 2023, Chapters 7A & 7C show that rape cases involving Scheduled Caste women increased from 2,073 in 2013 to 4,214 in 2023, showing a rise of about 103%. Cases involving Scheduled Tribe women increased from 847 to 1,189 during the same period, reflecting a rise of around 40%. As per NCRB 2023 data, 3,07,355 cases are pending under the SC/ST Act, and about 22,000 are rape cases.
Disability and the injustice
Recently, a deaf mute Dalit woman died by suicide after rape in Ghaziabad, Uttar Pradesh, on 21st August. The police registered an FIR under BNS Section 64(2), and the DCP said, “As the woman was a Dalit, we will be adding sections relating to the SC/ST Act.” The NHRC has also taken suo motu cognisance of the concerned cases. Intersectionality is the lived reality of our society.
The Criminal Law (Amendment) Act, 2013, enacted in the aftermath of the Nirbhaya incident and informed by the recommendations of the Justice J.S. Verma Committee, significantly expanded the legal framework governing sexual offences in India. As a result, a provision was added, namely, Section 376(2)(l), making rape of a physically/mentally disabled woman an aggravated form of rape, which provided for an enhanced punishment. Under the BNS, 2023, the corresponding section is section 64(2)(k). If we look at pre-amendment rape cases of disabled women, we certainly will argue that such cases were taken on par with other rape cases, which was also justified because, at that time, such rapes cases were not recognised as an aggravated form of rapes and a framework for enhanced punishment was also missing. For example, in Gopal Bhowmik v. State of West Bengal, the accused committed rape upon the victim, who was deaf and mute. The accused was placed before the Fast Track Court, where he was punished under section 376 of the IPC, 1860. In Samitri and Ishwar Singh v. State of Haryana, the prosecutor, a minor, was mentally disabled and the right side of her body was paralysed. The conviction of the accused for rape, imprisonment for 7 years and a fine was upheld by the High Court. In Suresh v. State of Maharashtra, the case involved the alleged rape of a deaf, mute, and intellectually disabled woman. Yet, the trial court convicted the accused without even examining the prosecutrix.
Post the 2013 Amendment, the situation has not changed much; the structural violence is yet to be recognised and addressed. In Soubam Naoba Singh v. State of Manipur, the prosecutrix was a mentally retarded person and was subjected to rape by the accused, but the trial court had sentenced the appellant to rigorous imprisonment for 10 years under Section 376 of the IPC. In Patan Jamal Vali v. State of Andhra Pradesh, despite the prosecutrix being a blind Dalit woman, the Court, in this case, did not render any enhanced punishment to the accused, and Section 376(2)(l) of the IPC, 1860, remains uninvoked.
Also, reluctance on the part of the Executive in addressing structural violence is evident in official crime statistics. The National Crime Records Bureau, Crime in India 2013, Chapter 7A and Chapter 7B, shows no disaggregated data on sexual offences against women and girls with disabilities, reflecting the complete absence of disability-based categorisation in crime reporting at the time. The NCRB 2023 data reveal that rape of women with disabilities is significantly under-recorded under the specific aggravated provision of Section 376(2)(l), IPC, with only 130 cases reported nationwide.
Conclusion
The law cannot claim to deliver justice if it sees survivors only through a single axis of identity. While legislative reforms have progressively strengthened India's legal framework on sexual offences, the absence of an explicit intersectional approach continues to leave many survivors at the margins of legal protection. It is about acknowledging the unequal realities in which violence occurs. Courts must move beyond formal equality and adopt an approach that is alive to structural disadvantage, while the Executive must ensure that crime data, investigative practices, and victim-support mechanisms reflect these lived realities.
As the recent Ghaziabad case painfully demonstrates, intersectionality is not a theoretical construct. The true measure of a justice system lies not in how it responds to the average case, but in how it protects those who stand at the intersections of multiple forms of discrimination. Until the law fully recognises and responds to these intersecting vulnerabilities, justice for many survivors will remain elusive.





