Gaysian: What it’s Like Being Queer in the Asian Community
By A.G
In many Asian languages, including Vietnamese and Tagalog, there are no words to describe homosexuality or transgender people. Pride parades are almost unheard of and can quickly turn into examples of police brutality.
The few words in Asian languages that describe what LGBTQIA+ means are barely used and not well known. When I used Google Translate to search up what ‘homosexual’ is in Chinese, a language I’ve grown up with, I had never heard of it before. Perhaps this simply shows the avoidance of LGBTQIA+ awareness in my household; perhaps it represents the larger group of many Asian families who shun and view LGBTQIA+ people as something that only exist in the Western world.
This lack of support and awareness has prevented me from coming out to my family. There is no word to describe who I am, so why should I bother? By using Western words, it continues to make it seem as if the LGBTQIA+ community only exists in Western countries. It reinforces the idea that you can learn homosexuality, that you’ve been ‘infected’ or ‘brainwashed’.
If I came out to them using the word ‘lesbian’, they would probably see it as a fault of coming to Canada, sending me to a Canadian school, and letting me be around Canadian friends. It would be seen as something ‘unnatural’ and ‘learned’ because to them Asian people can’t be LGBTQIA+.
My mother always stressed finding the right partner. When I was younger, during one of her lectures about how I could be with anyone as long as they respected me, I asked, “Well then, can they be a girl?” She responded: “Aiya! You’ve been brainwashed by your schools. Why are they teaching you this?”
Due to this conversation and many others like it, I’ve decided not to come out. I recognise that getting people to accept my sexuality will be a lifelong process, especially as someone part of the Asian community. I do not want to come out in a flashy manner, if even at all. I’ve decided to simply let people find out that I’m gay without telling them. Maybe it’s the fear of how people will react, maybe it’s purely altruistic and I want to destigmatise coming out. Either way, I can recognise that it’s my decision when, how, who to, and whether I come out.
Not coming out has helped protect me in a way. I’ve never been publicly shamed or harassed, partly because I don’t fit what a stereotypical ‘butch lesbian’ would look like. The stereotype of the LGBTQIA+ community consisting of skinny white guys is damaging and adds another layer to coming out – namely, the idea that it’s possible for someone else of any other race to be LGBTQIA+.
In popular movies and tv shows, when they decide to add some LGBTQIA+ ‘diversity’, it’s in the shape of a white man or woman. As little representation as there is for Asians and other minorities in the media, there’s even less for BAME LGBTQIA+.
There’s another reason I do not want to come out, and that is that Asia is a very family-focused culture. Especially as immigrants, we stress respecting our parents and being a stereotypical ‘good Asian kid’. There’s an inherent duty that comes with being the children of immigrants; we must work harder, work more, work better because our parents sacrificed their entire life for us. And who are you to throw that all away?
So, who was I to come out and disregard everything that my parents had sacrificed only to be ‘brainwashed’ into being gay? My whole life, there’s been the idea that I owe my parents for giving me this life. And as much as I try to dismiss that idea, there’s the lingering hesitation and shame every time I do worse on a test or I lash out or I buy something for myself.
As a child, I chronically feared disappointing my parents and did everything I could to make them proud. They wanted me to be successful, and success was being rich with a powerful partner. This partner would definitely not be the same sex as you. There were so many other expectations, and being straight was so implied that they didn’t even mention it. No one did.
Along the way to becoming the ‘perfect Asian kid’, I gave up being straight. So, I tried to compensate. I put everything into school, extracurriculars, playing the violin (I know – pretty Asian). I did extra courses online, hoping that excelling in one category would make up for my failure in another. My plan was to build up myself so that when I did come out, and my family rejected me, I would be able to support myself.
I’m scared that my mother will see my sexuality as a failure on her part. That she would think that she didn’t succeed in raising a happy, healthy child. But she did. Being a lesbian is not a fault.
I’m lucky enough to live in a country where people are allowed to be LGBTQIA+ and pride is celebrated, despite people like my family’s beliefs. Yet that’s something that many people in Asian countries can’t relate to.
My hope is that as the world continues to change, LGBTQIA+ awareness and acceptance in Asian communities will grow as well.
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