Ōtautahi, Autumn 2013

Outside of my flatmates, Andy and Jeff, I did not know anyone when I arrived in Ōtautahi. My social sphere stayed within the university, and I relied on my flatmates for human connection. The only exception to my social isolation were the few classmates from my speech and language pathology programme. I found it difficult to connect with my classmates due to the competitive nature of the programme.

On rare occasions, I would be invited to the odd student house party. The earthquakes flattened the city centre and the bars and hospitality scene virtually disappeared overnight. Our only options were house parties. With my limited social network, invitations to these parties were few and far between. However, it was at one of these house parties, where I had one of the most fruitful conversations in understanding my identity.

“We should go,” Andy suggested.

I was at a house party with Andy and Jeff. Andy was in a long-​distance relationship, and he had no interest in staying out late.

“Yeah, I’m done as well,” Jeff agreed. He was also a homebody.

“Want to come with us to the Craic?” Cate and Sophie invited me. “It’s karaoke night.”

I was talking to Cate and Sophie who were two older students whom I met at the party. The Craic was a busy Irish bar on Riccarton Road. It was one of the few bars still standing near campus after the earthquakes.

“Lemme see,” I told them. I looked at Andy and Jeff for validation.

Up until this point, Andy, Jeff, and I went everywhere together with the exception of class. I felt emotionally torn because I felt like I did not have a choice. It felt like they were my last connection to my childhood.

“Suit yourself,” Sophie told me. She began making her way to the door. “We’re going to meet our friend Joe. We’ll see you there!”

“If you want to go just go. We’ll just leave without you,” Andy told me.

That was the permission I needed. I packed up my things and I made the journey to the Craic.

As I walked through the quiet streets of Riccarton, I was flooded with a sense of loneliness. I assumed when I moved in with my friends from high school that we would develop a stronger friendship. I felt like I was venturing into the unknown.

When I arrived at the Craic, I found Joe alone at the bar. He was nursing his beer watching the crowd sing and dance at the karaoke screen. I recognised him from the party earlier. Unluckily, for Joe, both Cate and Sophie had already left.

“You just missed them. They just left,” Joe informed me. “Cate saw her ex outside.”

“Would you like some company?” I asked Joe. I might as well stay.

Joe nodded and I went to get a drink and sat down next to him. We began to talk.

“I’m a fourth-​year law and business student,” Joe told me. “And I grew up in Lower Hutt.” “Me too!” my eyes lit up. It was always nice discovering a point of common interest when meeting someone for the first time.

As we talked, I felt Joe’s gaze drift from the crowd to me. He examined me from head to toe. First, he stroked my arm. Then my thigh. I pushed him away when he tried to kiss me.

“I’m sorry,” Joe straightened himself up on the barstool. The mood of his tone shifted. “I just assumed you were family.”

“No, it’s fine.” I was at a loss for words. “I’m just not ready to experiment.”

I was both scared and surprised that Joe tried to kiss me. After four months attending student events and parties in Ōtautahi, I was used to being ignored and being invisible. I have never had someone express interest in me –​ so publicly.

“Are you gay?” I was curious.

“No, I’m bisexual,” Joe replied without looking at me.

“What does that mean?” I asked innocently. I knew extraordinarily little about sexuality. “Let’s get some fresh air,” Joe told me. “I’ll get us another drink.”

Joe met me in the car park behind the Craic. This was meant to be a garden portion of the bar. He handed me a pint of beer before lighting up a cigarette.

“Do you smoke?” Joe asked me as he passed me the cigarette.

I took the cigarette and inhaled. I spluttered and choked on the foul smoke. I could taste the ash in my mouth. Within seconds, I felt light-​headed and relaxed.

“How do I explain bisexuality?” Joe pondered for a moment.

“You know when you’ve had vanilla ice cream your whole life. And then suddenly you try chocolate ice cream?”

I nodded. I did not know where he was going with this analogy.

“Basically, vanilla ice cream was how I felt about women and chocolate ice cream was how I felt about men.”

“I thought chocolate ice cream was the best thing in the world, but after having nothing but chocolate ice cream for I while, I wanted to go back to vanilla ice cream again.”

“I realised I liked the taste of both women and men,” Joe finished his story and took another drag of his cigarette.

I felt like I had reached a state of deep understanding about my own sexuality. All it took was someone to explain their feelings with plain language. The way Joe explained his sexuality was so simple yet logical.

I thought deeply about Joe’s analogy, and I realised sexuality was a spectrum. I would later come to learn that for some people, it was possible to fall on either end of the spectrum or not on the spectrum at all.

“I always felt different growing up,” Joe told me candidly.

Joe continued to describe his sexual encounters with other men in detail. I was in awe, but also mildly disturbed, although I understood his intentions. What was there to be disgusted about with human attraction?

“You’ve known, I’ve always had a thing for Asian men,” Joe told me. I once again felt his gaze examining my body. “I think they’re irresistible.”

“Anyway, it’s getting late,” Joe announced as he stamped out his last cigarette. “I’ll walk you home –​ if you’d like me to join you.”

When I woke up the next day with a blaring headache, I thought my encounter from the night before was all a dream. I knew it was not a dream when I found a mobile number on a sheet of paper and an unopened condom in my pocket. Joe had handed them to me outside my flat as we parted ways. Perhaps I was ready to experiment with my sexuality after all.

Ōtautahi, Spring 2013

While I learnt to navigate the white closet constructed around me as a racialised person, I found myself enclosed within another closet –​ one I tried to suppress. I only had a latent understanding of my Queerness. Even though I watched gay porn, I did not think there was anything unusual about it. As long as no one knew about this, I considered myself straight. I was only meant to be attracted to women after all. I distanced myself from Queerness –​ both people and spaces –​ to steer myself away from difficult questions.

“I wonder why we always end up with women and gays in speech therapy,” Emma proclaimed loudly to the group.

“Well, I’m not gay,” I whispered quietly to myself. There was a running joke in my class that straight men were not interested in studying speech and language pathology.

“What I was going to say,” Emma never finished her sentence as we boarded the bus.

It was Guy Fawkes Night. Every year the city council would host a large public display by New Brighton beach. We went as a cohort, and we were just heading home from the event. The bus heading back to the city was packed. As we waited for the traffic to clear, I noticed everyone was whispering and pointing at the two men on the bus.

“Oh my God, what the fuck are they doing?” Emma whispered in shock.

There were two men standing by the back door. One of them was holding on to a guard-​rail of the bus, while the other had his arms around him. The one holding on to the guard rail was making a stroking motion. I was intrigued to know what these two were doing to cause such a commotion. From certain angles on the bus, it looked like one of the men was getting a hand-​job. No wonder they were the centre of attention. Not only was it a public display of Queer affection, but it also looked like they were pleasuring each other in public. As I watched the two men, I realised I knew one of the two men. Elliot was a friend of mine.

“Hey Sidney!” Elliot must have felt me staring at the bus and greeted me.

As Elliot waved to me at the back of the bus, I looked away. I did not know why, but I felt a deep sense of shame when Elliot acknowledged our connection. I did not want to be Queer by association.

“Is that your friend?” Emma demanded to know.

“No,” I lied and slunk into the shadows.

When Elliot saw me ignore him, he stopped waving. He must have realised something was wrong. Elliot and his companion got off the bus not long afterwards.

A few days later, I received an unexpected message from Elliot.

“I just wanted to apologise for the other day,” Elliot told me. “I’ve been meaning to message you. I shouldn’t have spoken to you in such a situation. Sorry about that.”

“You don’t need to apologise. I was more taken aback by the situation,” I finally responded to Elliot after some time. “I didn’t know how to respond to what happened. If you want, we can meet up some time.”

A small part of me wanted him to give me more details. “Was he your boyfriend?” “How long have you been dating?” “When did you know when you were gay?” “Do you think I’m gay?” I kept those questions to myself.

“I wanted to message you about that night, but I didn’t think I was in a position to ask for an explanation,” I continued.

“It’s okay; I didn’t mean to put you in that situation. I’m not sure what there was to explain. You can ask me anything if there’s something you’re not sure about,” Elliot seemed confused with my reaction to this insignificant event.

“No, that’s fine. I won’t bring it up with our friends,” I continued spiralling.

“Okay, thanks. I’m not sure what it is. I just felt bad for putting you into an awkward situation.” “I’ll keep it a secret,” I reassured Elliot again. Our conversation was going around in circles. “Keep what a secret? I’m rather confused as to what needs to be kept secretive?”

I let the conversation peter out. Elliot was rightfully confused as I was not sure what the secret was either. Maybe I thought I was doing Elliot favour by not outing him to his friends. He was already out to his family and friends, so what was there to protect? Perhaps I wanted him to keep my secret instead.

Ōtautahi, Spring 2013

It was coming to the end of my first year at university. Even though my social life was non-​existent, I excelled academically. I was offered a place on the professional programme for speech and language pathology. However, there were a few changes to my living situation. Andy decided to return home to Te Awakairangi to join his girlfriend, and Jeff decided to move in with his girlfriend. I was once again alone.

With the prospect of moving into a new flat, I moved in with a friend Ella who also lived in the same apartment complex. The new apartment was a lot more expensive, so I applied for any job I could find as I was running low on funds. There was an entry-​level role processing earthquake claims at a private insurance company. Much of the city centre was still in ruins and the residential areas were still in disrepair.

I still remember the day of the interview. It was a warm day. The Nor ’wester was in full force –​ a strong hot and humid north-​westerly wind. This was the day I met Thomas. He was the first friend I made in Ōtautahi. What sparked this unlikely friendship was another case of fateful coincidence. Thomas was also at the interview for this entry-​level role. I took my time heading home after the interview. Unknowingly, Thomas appeared next to me at the bus stop.

“Nice to meet you, I’m Sidney,” I introduced myself to the stranger. I recognised him from the interview. “Are you applying for the same role?”

“Yes, I am,” Thomas responded hesitantly. “I’m Thomas, by the way.”

“Are you taking the Orbiter? Mind if I join you?” I asked hoping for some company.

Thomas nodded and gestured for me to sit next to him at the bus stop. I am not normally one to talk to strangers, but something prompted me to introduce myself to him. He is Pākehā and he grew up just north of Ōtautahi. At that time, he was a third-​year law student. As we continued talking on the bus, I found out he was living in the apartment building next to mine.

“Should we get a drink at the Foundry?” I suggested.

“Sure. I’ve got nothing else planned,” Thomas replied eagerly.

Thomas and I got off the bus and we made our way to the Foundry –​ the student bar. Even though we only shared a jug of beer, we lost track of time as we raced through a range of topics that afternoon. We learnt so much about each other such as our interests, our differences, and our similarities. If I had known better, this could have been our first date.

While Thomas and I waited for the results from the interview, we stayed connected. Thankfully, we were both offered a position. On the one hand, I was excited we were going to spend the summer together. On the other hand, I had to break the news to my parents. Both my parents were expecting me to go home that summer as my brother had done after his first year at university. I was not going home, to their disappointment.

「你諗唔諗住返屋企架.」 (Are you coming home?) Mum asked me one afternoon.

「唔返啦，我搵到份工.」 (I’m not coming home; I found a job.) I told her.

「哦，咁呀。記得睇住自己啦.」 (Oh, is that so, just look after yourself then.) Mum seemed disappointed.

Before Thomas and I began our role at the private insurance company, we spent a lot of time together running errands. The first time we spent time together alone, we drove a short distance from the city. We walked around a remote suburb to get some fresh air away from exam study. We sat outside the dairy overlooking the tall grass. We talked some more about our past and our aspirations. It felt like we were dating, and I was beginning to develop feelings for him.

As our friendship progressed, I began to worry I was getting too clingy. Although I enjoyed spending my time talking to Thomas, I was worried I was becoming overly dependent on him as a friend. When Thomas and I started our role at the insurance company, I kept my distance from him to give him some space. I did not want to come across as too possessive.

“Want to get a beer?” I asked Thomas after an unproductive day at work.

Thomas nodded enthusiastically. I could tell he had had a tough week.

When Thomas and I got back to his apartment, we began to drink. One beer became two. Two beers became three. Once the beer was finished, we started to drink whisky. He brought out the cigars he had hidden in his room. The more we drank, the more vulnerable we became. We became quite emotional as we shared our most intimate thoughts.

“You know, life really sucks when you’re different. I was a loner at high school,” Thomas told me. He took a puff of his cigar and passed it to me. “I’ve never felt a sense of attachment.”

“I know what you mean,” I replied. “I don’t know how to maintain friends. I struggle to know what people want. I feel like a people pleaser.”

“Really? I thought only I felt that way,” Thomas reacted with surprise. “You know, I once tried to end it all. It thought like an easy way out of this mess. The only thing that stopped me from following through with it was that I didn’t how to do it.”

When Thomas and I finished the cigar, I went back to my apartment. On my way home, I sat down on a fence. I needed a moment alone to process my thoughts. I started sobbing. It dawned on me how much pain there was in the world. I also realised how miserable I was in Ōtautahi. I was alone and I was exhausted from hiding in the white closet.

Most of my life, I had been preoccupied with what other people thought of me. Whether it was family, friends, or strangers, I always pandered for their affection to get a sense of validation. Now that I was alone in a city that had no love for me, I no longer knew what my purpose was in the world. I wondered briefly, what I could do to get out of this mess, before coming back to my senses. I recognised that for me to move on I would need to come to terms with my past before I could move on to the next stage of my life.