Race, Sexuality Make for a Two-Pronged Fork

Asian-American gays face dual problems

IT'S HARD WHEN YOU STAND at the intersection of race and sexuality, Royce Lin says. Society is no friend of those who in their habits and nature differ from the mainstream; it is certainly no friend of the likes of Lin, a junior at Harvard who is both Chinese-American and gay. On him converges, therefore, the full array of pressures and prejudices -- the stuff of racial slurs and gay-baiting -- so commonplace in day-to-day life.

But for Lin, who is the president of the Harvard-Radcliffe Bisexual Gay Lesbian Students' Association, and for all Asian-American gays, the cross borne is doubly heavy: he is rejected by other gays because he is Asian, and by other Asians because he is gay.

Lin is part of a larger pattern: the "polymarginalized" minority, whose identity cuts across divergent categories and belongs nowhere in the social mosaic. Gay Asian America is a world of the persona non grata. From discrimination there is never respite, even amidst one's "own," Lin is an outsider among outsiders.

A Gay, Chinese-American Perspective

But this has been especially difficult because he is Asian-American. "For those Asian Americans who maintain very strong ties to their ethnic origins, there is an added pressure that keeps them from coming out or from becoming active in gay and lesbian politics," he says. "A lot of people need to achieve financial independence or move far away from their parents before they can open up and express this very integral part of themselves."

Even today, Lin is hurt by his relationship with his parents; they suspect, but are as yet unaware of, his sexual orientation. Lin does not plan to tell them because as his sister told him when she found out, it would "shatter their world." In the minds of traditional Chinese parents, homosexuality is inextricably linked to AIDS, psychosis, and mental sickness. Recently his mother described to Lin her visit to the University of California at Berkeley: "Berkeley is going down the tubes. It's getting to be such a horrible school. There are all these gays here. You can even see them in public holding hands and kissing."

Lin could find no way of responding to her provincial outlook and the tone of disdain in her voice.

There was a time when Lin himself subscribed to more traditional Asian views. Namely, it is the man's responsibility to establish a conventional family and to perpetuate the family line. He even entertained notions of meeting and marrying a lesbian woman -- he and his "wife" would thus be able to lead a seemingly normal life.

In high school, peer and social pressures forced Lin to pursue a heterosexual relationship. The short-lived relationship of convenience came to an abrupt halt.

"After prom, we [my date Jennifer and I] went to the Disneyland hotel with two other couples," Lin says. "It so happened that the other two guys had to leave, so the two other girls retreated into one room, leaving Jennifer and myself in the other. At that point she wanted to initiate something.

"I thought to myself, `This is not going to happen because she's going to discover that there's absolutely no interest.' My entire body was very stiff; I had my arms crossed over around the abdomen area, perhaps a little lower. I didn't move, but she sort of muscled her head close to my neck. `Oh gosh,' I thought, `this is really unfair-- I'm probably traumatizing this poor girl.' As a gesture I put my arm around her, and we just sort of fell asleep."

At that point Lin realized in full his sexual identity: no self-delusion could change his preference for men. However, he was still reluctant to disclose in full his orientation to his family.

Being gay "has special significance for Asian Americans because so many of us are attached to our families, an integral part of our notions of self," Lin says. "When Asian-American families almost universally condemn homosexuality then this conflict really comes about that could be very difficult to resolve."

Yet, Lin remains steadfast in proclaiming his preferences.

"At this point in my life I can say I would choose it over and over and over again," he says. "I realize now that I cannot simply excise an essential part of myself to masquerade as normal and assimilate myself into the dominant society."

Not only has Lin come out, he has created a powerful voice for himself in this community -- mainly through the BGLSA. As president, he has set the organization's gay-advocacy agenda: to educate, to be a political voice for gays, and to provide a social forum for gays and lesbians.

A Gay, Filipino-American Perspective

Strangely enough, Tan's background afforded him a modicum of support -- more than what most Asian-American gays can expect. "I think Filipinos are more westernized than other Asian cultures, and therefore more liberal," he says.

Tan disclosed his sexual orientation to his Filipino mother on turning sixteen. "She accepted it because she realized it was not a choice I had made, but rather an integral part of me," he says. His father, half-Chinese and far more traditional, was not so accepting. "There was already tension between us, and my sexuality became the focal point of his disdain for me," Tan says.

Beyond his father's intolerance, much of the discrimination Tan must endure, ironically, originates from his fellow gays. "The gay community doesn't exist in a vacuum," he says. "I think as a Filipino I face the same stereotypes [being gay] as I would in larger society. There's an Asian hierarchy of sexuality. Filipinos have a reputation for being hyper-sexual."

For a community that shares the common affliction of intolerance, gays are themselves, according to Tan, unduly bigoted. "I've heard everything," Tan says. "From `I've never dated an Oriental before,' to `you wouldn't be right for the job,' to `you're so exotic.' "

Tan is a gay activist, a writer, a speaker, a poet, and an essayist. He is recognized and respected in the colored gay community as a spokesperson for young gays.

In the final analysis, Tan emphasizes the need for vision. "Everyone in the gay community needs to realize that we are all important, that we can all contribute," he says.

An African-American Perspective

Within the gay community are social dynamics that parallel those in greater society. For example, gays tend to date people of their own races -- whites go out with other whites, Chinese with other Chinese, blacks with other blacks. Nevertheless, there is an obvious "white" standard of beauty.

"What shows up is that many gay Asian men prefer to date Caucasian men," Lin says. Although some say this is due to the larger number of Caucasian men here, Lin disagrees. "I personally think there's something more insidious," he says. "A lot of it traces back to issues of representation -- specifically, to ideals of beauty. Within this dominant hegemonic cultural framework, attractiveness is almost always centered around white conceptions of beauty." Lin realizes this is a gross generalization, but he himself has never had an Asian boyfriend.

Tan has dated men of all racial identities: Hispanic, African-American, Puerto Rican. Yet he agrees that racism pervades the gay community. "Gay minorities have utilized and demonstrated the same types of bigoted behavior as have been produced by and traditionally found in white racism," Tan says.

Too often, people obsessed with differences between individuals ignore the similarities. The attendant prejudices are central to the plight of the Asian-American gay. Nonetheless, some progress has been made to break down intolerance. Films such as The Wedding Banquet and Farewell My Concubine are some that depict gay and lesbian life in an Asian context.

By many accounts, the experiences conjured are remarkably true to life. The Wedding Banquet concerns a gay Chinese man in New York who is pressured by his parents to "marry and begin a family." Meanwhile, the Japanese film Okoge portrays a young man who reveals his sexual identity to his family. Both Tan and Lin can well relate to the reaction of the main character's family, which responds by ignoring him and talking about the weather.

But together, these films represent an encouraging step in the right direction. "We're all different on one level or another, yet we all share the same angst, we all complain about our relationships, and we all have the same concerns," Lin says. "I consider myself to be a part of both the gay and lesbian community as well as the Asian-American community. For me to truly achieve personal happiness I must recognize both parts of myself, and hope that the two communities will acknowledge the difficulties in such a project."