I knew I was gay since forever ago, but I suppose I knew "knew" during sixth grade when I decided to type up the word "gay" on a slow-ass dial-up Internet search engine and remembering that I liked what I saw but that I didn't exactly feel comfortable with it either. Then middle school came and up came the peer pressure and the desire to fit in and down the drain went any type of positive growth pertaining to my sexual identity. During those trying times, there were two things that saved me-- 1) God and 2) video games.
I wasn't Christian before I wanted to reject my sexual identity. In fact, I wasn't much of anything--just a regular kid growing up in a biethnic enclave who didn't have too much weight on his shoulders. I turned to Christianity not for what I would now call the "right" reasons but because I wanted so badly to be straight and normal in every sense of the word, which to me meant getting married, having kids and finding a lucrative career. Christianity made everything seem so easy and black and white--believe in Jesus Christ, repent for your sins and you will go to heaven. I found absolute comfort in absolutes--in the end everything will be OK because God loved me and had a plan for me. At first glance this may seem like a portrait of a kid in deep struggle but in truth, the countless prayers of "Dear Lord, please make me straight and I will never sin again" helped me because in the absence of teachers, friends, and role models to speak with, at least I had the Lord.
Another thing that kept me sane was video games. My grades were slipping--so what? At least when I turned on that PS 2 and entered the world of Tidus, I would be saving Zanarkand from the monster called Sin and everything was OK. I bought everything FFX--action figures, guides, clothing, posters. Playing video games kept me sane by allowing me to escape into another, more fantastic world.
Come high school, there were a variety of factors that saved me and it was no longer God nor Tidus and these included more supportive students and teachers but more notably, it was the gay Asian community I had met through a guy from the Internet. Now, I know what you're thinking--SKETCH, but in actuality, I owe much of what I have become to that community and
the Internet. I remember vividly I was at house in Santa Monica and the room was filled with college-aged and educated gay Asian men who were all socializing as well as getting ready to march the following day at the Los Angeles Pride parade as part of the Asian Pacific AIDS Intervention Team. This, by the way, was the summer right after freshman year of high school and I was 14. I wrote a false permission slip and had my mother sign it. I told her I was going to visit UCLA for a college day.
At that time, seeing people who I respected and who looked like me was important. I think that if I was in a room with drag Queens, for example, that it would have been a different story. These guys served as older brothers and as people I looked up to. When the Pride parade came the following day, I marched with APAIT, believed in the supportive faces in front of me as well as the new community I had found behind me, I never looked back. I have marched in a pride parade every year to serve as a reminder of my self-acceptance.
From scattered conversations both direct and indirect and from reading articles, it is without question that the gay Asian American community is one at risk. We deal with particularities that mainstream gay America may not have to deal with. When I made my first short film my senior year of high school where I "come out" to my parents through a documentary style narration, I initially made it for me. I wanted something that I could be proud of and something that spoke my truth. I was lucky enough to have met key folks through different organizations and it has screened in festivals nationally to diverse audiences of hundreds. I have not shown this film to my parents because it is not safe yet. Though I made it first and foremost for myself, I also made it for the gay Asian community because how often do you see a coming out story of APA youth in the mainstream? This absence of representation makes it an imperative that we represent ourselves and continue helping our community.
My motivation to help others in my community is propelled by how that community has helped me so it has never been a question whether or not I am an activist. Filmmaking is my weapon of choice because though it does not always deal with certain issues head-on as do counselors, media has a powerful effect as it reaches large audiences quickly and allows the viewer to interpret the work himself. I believe that we all deal with our problems differently and often individually and that positive new media (representation) can trigger the solution process.
For a while I have struggled with the gay Asian Internet community. I was so bitter because I was tired of always having to look for my people--straight people don't have to dig in the dirt for their folks. They can pick people off the street or at a restaurant and it will go unquestioned. Gays, on the other hand, have to jump through so many more hoops. Every time I logged onto Downelink and sent a message, I just felt that everything was superficial--every time I ran into someone who I saw from the Internet at a club, I wouldn't feel any real connection because we had not really spoken and BOY you look different from your pics. However, I have come to realize that because of our positions as gay Asian men we have to form our communities through alternative means for various reasons but one being that sometimes it just isn't safe nor practical. I have come to accept that the communities formed online, though there are impostors, is a very REAL community and that is it OK.
I had a conversation with my dad a few years ago where he basically outlined his expectations for me--and there weren't very many. He was very straight forward and told me the sooner I get married with a Chinese girl and have kids, the better. He said that the cycle of life runs the same for everybody--that the blood that runs through my veins is result of a legacy of marriages and it is our responsibility as humans to uphold that legacy. The thing is, I do want some of the things my father wants of me. I do one day want to find a partner and get married and have a kid or two. I do want to find a stable career.
Last week I had the opportunity to meet Arthur Dong, the gay Chinese American filmmaker who is actually getting married next week with his partner of over 30 years. They have a son, Reed. I met him before I realized he was Arthur's son. I saw this cute little boy wandering around and asked him where his "mommy" was because I was afraid he was lost. He said his "mommy is gone." I brought this up during my conversation with Arthur and I told him that there are so many things that children of same sexcouples have to deal with that children of straight couples don't. I expressed that I would like to have kids of my own but I want to make sure that they grow up in a supportive environment and at that point I started tearing up. Arthur gave me a very nice photograph of Reed that represents possibilities for me.
I'm not sure how clear I have been, but in my Gayasian community, things do go full circle. We need to be appreciative of those who help us and help those like ourselves. Representation and people like Arthur, who are unafraid to tell their own stories and live their lives with pride and conviction are crucial. We must create our own legacy of activism and support instead of follow the one expected from us.
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