I was in my second year at university. At this point, I had dropped out of the speech and language pathology programme. I had transferred to a science degree in linguistics instead. I told my course co-ordinators that I wanted to pursue my interest in linguistics. I spent days deliberating with my flatmate Ella as to whether I should make the change. In all honesty, I was sick of the homophobic remarks from other students. I did not want to question my sexuality anymore.
I was still in my part-time role settling earthquake claims. Our contracts were extended from three months to twelve months. I still struggled with the white closet, but I enjoyed my time at the insurance company more than my time at the university.
I expanded my social circle beyond the university with my connections at the insurance company. I worked hard settling claims and I was popular with the full-time staff. I also had Thomas by my side, even though our relationship remained platonic. I only found out years later that he was attracted to me after we spent a night together. Sometimes the right person comes into your life at the wrong time. If only I had come out to myself when we met.
My tasks were mind-numbing at best, but management tried their best to make the work tolerable. It was their prerogative to settle the claims as soon as feasibly possible as it was a drain on their resources. One of my main tasks was to collect insurance excesses from homeowners. What was meant to be a straightforward task would often be an emotionally bruising experience.
The people I spoke to would recount their trauma, which had been caused by the natural disaster. They would break down in tears as they talked about loved ones who had been killed in the earthquake. I still vividly remember a woman blaming me for the death of her grandchild who died in one of the events. My foreign-sounding last name made it extra difficult for me to connect with the homeowners as they assumed that I was located in an offshore call centre. My only redeeming feature was my white accent.
Management recognised the emotional toll in this earthquake space, so we were often offered treats and rewards. We had a trolley of savouries and scones that would make its way through the building every morning. On Fridays, the mail trolley would be replaced with beer and wine. I had no choice as I was still a student, and I needed the money.
There was no competition in the office. Between the gentle tap-tapping of keyboards and clicking between archaic software, I had some of my most honest conversations while I was working at the insurance company.
“Our lives would be so much easier if we were white,” Lucette announced loudly.
It was a quiet Saturday morning in the office. Lucette and I were processing loss adjustment payments. No one else wanted to do overtime with us on a Saturday morning. Lucette is South African Indian and migrated to Ōtautahi with her family.
“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t Asian,” She continued. “If I was white, I wouldn’t have to deal with all this racist shit.”
I nodded in agreement. Lucette and I were talking about our experiences of racism in Ōtautahi. Just a few weeks earlier, I was at a supermarket with another colleague when a Pākehā man with a shaved head shoved me against the supermarket shelf and told me to “Go back to where you come from, Asian cunt!”
Lucette realised much earlier than I did that our racialised bodies were not welcome in Ōtautahi. Ironically, her family left South Africa to escape institutional racism only to settle in the “white supremacist capital of New Zealand”.
“I’d still rather be doing this than being in South Africa,” Lucette shrugged and continued to process the payments.
I felt a sense of comfort talking to Lucette who understood what it meant to be a racialised person in Aotearoa. When I shared my experiences of racism in Ōtautahi with her, I briefly felt visible in this white closet.
As I continued to work at the insurance company, my social life flourished while my academic aspirations stagnated. Before long, I was invited to a colleague’s birthday party. She held her fiftieth birthday party at her home. It was a cool spring evening, and the smell of dew hung in the air. I knew no one at the party, so I found myself alone drinking in her garden.
I was lost in my thoughts when Iain stumbled into the garden. I recognised Iain from another party a few weeks earlier. He had left the insurance company before I started, but I knew that he was openly gay through the grapevine. When we made eye contact, Iain made his way towards me. Little did I know that this was going to another fateful coincidence that would propel me on my journey of self-discovery.
“Hey,” Iain greeted me. He tripped over himself.
“Hey,” I replied casually.
I stood there in the yard feeling cold, drunk, and lost in thought. Iain was visibly drunk, but he did not repulse me. Iain had a small frame, and he was no taller than I was. He was an extremely attractive man with handsome features.
“Have you ever kissed a boy?” Iain asked me.
“No, I haven’t,” I answered anxiously.
“Do you want to kiss a boy?” Iain teased me.
“I don’t know,” I whispered my reply.
“How would you know if you’ve never tried?” Iain whispered in return.
Before my mind could comprehend what was happening, Iain had already wrapped his arms around my body and pulled me into him. We locked our bodies in a tight embrace and our lips touched. I was breathless. As we kissed, time stood still, and I forgot where we were. I knew in that moment that my life would never be the same. I felt enlightened. This one kiss brought to the surface my hidden desires. I wanted more. I had just unlocked a new milestone in my life.
When I noticed people watching Iain and me through the window, I pushed him away. Even though I did not want that moment to stop, fear brought me back to my senses. As I left Iain alone in the garden, I tried to process what had just happened to me. A part of me wanted that kiss to last forever, while another part of me feared for what the future had in store for me. I was both elated and disgusted by how much I enjoyed the kiss. I was an emotional wreck.
I stumbled away from the party towards the street. I sat myself down on a neighbour’s fence to process the events of the evening. After what felt like a lifetime alone with my thoughts, I heard someone approaching. I saw Iain once again stumbling towards me.
“Want to come home with me?” Iain offered his drunken proposition.
I shook my head. One kiss was more than enough for the night. Iain stumbled away from me and disappeared into the night.
“Let’s get you home,” my colleague gestured towards her car.
When I finally got back to the apartment, I crawled up the four flights of stairs to my apartment. I knocked on Ella’s door.
“Are you okay?” Ella asked me. She cautiously opened her door.
“I think there is something wrong with me?” I responded to Ella with another question before collapsing on the floor.
“No, of course not,” Ella replied and laid down next to me.
I recalled the events of the evening to Ella. I told her about my conversation with Joe and my kiss with Iain. She was the first person I came out to about my sexual desires.
“I know how you’re feeling,” Ella tried to comfort me with her words.
Ella confided in me and told me about her bisexuality. She was also going on her own journey to understand what that meant to her. I felt a sense of comfort lying on the carpet.
After listening to Ella, I went back to my room. I was still drunk at this point, and I began overanalysing the situation. I could not sleep so I called Joe instead.
“Can I talk to you about something?” I asked Joe. “Sure, man,” Joe managed in reply. “Are you okay?”
I made my way to Joe’s flat. When I arrived, he was waiting for me outside on the driveway. He was barefoot and in his pyjamas. He offered me a beer before he led me to his room. Joe lit a cigarette as I recalled the events of the evening.
I was hyper-fixated on that moment for the next several weeks. Within days, I started searching for resources to help me understand my feelings. I went online and trawled through websites and blogs. I then went to the university library to find books about sexuality to frame my identity within an academic framework. Perhaps it would make it easier to except myself if there was a scientific basis to my behaviour. I was nervous strangers would see my reading material, so I wedged them between other books to smuggle them out of the library.
It was also during this time that I was introduced to RuPaul’s Drag Race. I first saw a video a gay colleague shared on their Facebook feed, and I was intrigued with the diverse range of drag artists. I pirated a season from the internet, and I watched the episodes in my room behind locked doors. I had no idea that a whole Queer subculture existed.
Even though I had found some resources to distract me, I still could not shake off the memory of that night. When I kissed Iain, I finally saw the part of my life I had spent in denial. Suddenly, everything made sense. For the first time in my life, I saw my life with some sense of clarity. I knew I had to speak to Iain, so I found Iain on Facebook, and it took me a week before I finally built up the courage to send him a message.
“This is a bit awkward to talk about at 8:30 in the morning, eh?” I joked.
“Oh, shit! Sorry about what happened,” Iain replied after seeing my message.
I had no idea why he was apologising.
“I want to talk about it, but I don’t want to make you feel awkward,” I replied anxiously. “Of course, same here, I didn’t realise that story got around that fast.”
It did not take long before our kiss reached the office. I was worried what people might say about us, but it also felt nice to be the centre of attention.
“I’m not usually like this,” I confessed to Iain.
“Same, it’s been a bit crazy since I came out,” Iain replied.
I did not realise that he had only just come out. I just assumed that those who had the courage to be themselves in public were always out.
“So, do you like men? Women? Both?” I asked curiously.
“I was with a girl for four years and I thought I was bisexual, but I am into guys for sure,” Iain responded with certainty.
I took some time to think about what I was going to say next.
“Do you feel comfortable talking about this?” I asked to clarify.
“I’ve had two solid months of talking about it and coming out. So yes, I am. Well, take your time. There’s no point rushing it. I’m what, late twenties? A bit late, but just shows it can be tricky,” Iain replied candidly.
I was surprised. I thought I was the only one exploring my sexuality this late in life.
“The thing is I enjoyed our kiss. I’m not sure how to process that part,” I confessed to Iain. “Oh really. I didn’t expect you to enjoy it. I thought I might’ve scared you.”
Iain seemed surprised. It must be because I told him I did not want to go home with him.
“I wouldn’t be talking to you if I was scared,” I reassured Iain.
“Well, that’s cool. I can’t tell you what it means for you, but I know in my experience I kind of knew for ages but denied it. It depends,” Iain paused for a few seconds and continued. “I’m sorry, I just mean I can’t decide or process what happened for you. It’s all experience really. A hook up here and there is okay. You learnt something out of it.”
“If you’re keen, do you want to meet up sometime?” I asked Iain.
“Sure man, I’m happy to talk about it,” Iain replied. “It will get inside your head a bit.”
Like a crack in a dam, the walls surrounding my closet began to break down. Slowly but steadily, a stream of uncontrollable events occurred one after the other. I had many questions, and I wanted to understand what was going on inside my mind. Iain and I met for lunch the following day. I was extremely nervous leading up to our meeting.
“My parents are from South Africa, but they moved to Gisborne,” Iain told me.
We talked for hours over lunch. Iain told me about his past relationships and his family’s reaction to his coming out. When I spoke to Iain, I felt a sense of comfort.
“We’re going to work together by the way,” Iain told me excitedly as we finally left the restaurant. “I start next week. See you there!”
Iain inspired me to go on a journey of self-discovery. It felt like everything that was happening from this point in my life was outside my control. If it were not for our fateful coincidence, my life would have headed in a different trajectory.
Unfortunately, my friendship with Joe deteriorated. Outside of Thomas, he was my only other friend. There was a sudden shift in our relationship dynamic after I told him about my kiss.
“Can I light up in here?” Joe asked me one evening.
Joe was sitting on my bed. I knew it was rhetorical. My apartment had a strict no smoking policy, but I was not sober enough to care.
I was not sure how Joe made it to my room. All I could remember was that he called me earlier that afternoon before he invited himself over to my flat. He was unexpectedly insistent.
Joe lit a cigarette and began inspecting my body through the veil of smoke. I was no longer just a friend; I became an object of desire.
“Well, do you want to see my dick?” Joe asked me.
“What?” I was astonished by his question.
Joe stood up and unbuckled himself. He pushed me against the bed. All I could remember next was the smell of cigarette smoke. The ashen stench hung in the air of my room. I felt dirty. I thought he was someone in whom I could confide. I have not spoken to Joe since that afternoon.
“We need more full-timers,” our operations manager announced one afternoon.
It had been four years since the devastating earthquakes, and the number of over cap claims kept increasing. The company needed more consultants to settle the increasing number of complex earthquake claims. I had been working at the company for nearly two years by then. I was content with my part-time position, and I had become close friends with my colleagues.
“Are you going to apply?” Iain asked me one afternoon.
“I don’t know,” I replied unconvincingly.
The university was about to break for the summer, and I was going to return in the new year to finish my degree. I wanted to leave Ōtautahi as soon as I could.
A few days after the announcement, the operations manager sent out an email announcing the new team of senior consultants. One of them was Iain.
“I got the role,” Iain told me excitedly from his cubicle.
I smiled at Iain and gave him a double thumbs up from my desk. I felt a knot developing in my throat and a sinking feeling in my stomach. Even though we were just friends, I had developed romantic feelings for Iain since our first kiss. I realised that I would no longer be in the same team as Iain. I was going to miss my one opportunity to be closer to Iain. I stood up from my cubicle and I walked hurriedly towards my manager. I felt my heart beating loudly in my chest as I knew that what I was about to do next was impulsive.
“Could I please have a quick word with you?” I whispered to my manager. “Sure thing,” my manager replied. “Do we need to go somewhere private?”
“Yes please,” I told him as we walked into a meeting room. “Is it too late for me to apply?” “Of course not,” my manager winked at me. “We still have to go through the usual process.”
They offered me the senior role within two days. I immediately unenrolled from university.
“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Thomas asked me when I told him about my new appointment. He knew about my feelings for Iain. He seemed upset with my news.
“Why wouldn’t this be a good idea?” I asked Thomas with genuine curiosity.
“Just make sure you are doing this for you, and not for anyone else,” Thomas interjected before returning to processing his loss adjustment payments.
With a stroke of good luck, I was placed in Iain’s team. The two of us were inseparable. We shared a cubicle, and we constantly messaged each other. He introduced me to his friends, and we went to the same parties.
After working together for a month, my wildest dream finally came true. Iain and I had been at a party earlier that afternoon and we had decided to go for a walk to get more drinks, but we ended up sitting in the car park of the Bush Inn Centre not far from my flat.
Iain and I opened up the box of cider and he passed me a menthol cigarette. We were on our backs watching the stars above us.
“I need you to know something, Sid,” Iain confessed to me as he sat up. The moonlight illuminated the asphalt around us. “I’ve liked you since I first met you at Margaret’s party.”
“I couldn’t believe my luck when you ended up in my team,” Iain confessed.
Iain leant in towards me and we kissed. Once again, time stood still.
“I like you, too,” I whispered to Iain under my breath. “Do you want to go home with me?”
I took Iain back to my flat and we spent the night together. Not long after our second kiss in the car park, we were dating.
I was still in the closet, and I was not ready to come out at work. During the day, we pretended to be best friends, and at night, he would meet me at my flat. In the morning, we would go to work separately. This became our routine.
Despite both of us coming out at the same time, Iain was a lot more in touch with his body than I was with mine. I struggled with my body image, and I was not comfortable seeing my naked body or expressing pleasure during sex.
It did not take long for people at work to suspect there was something between Iain and me. It did not bother me as I realised, eventually, that we would need to come clean with our relationship.
“We know you two are together,” a colleague told Iain and me in a meeting room one day. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone.”
I felt as though I was on course to coming out as long as Iain was there by my side.
Nevertheless, some romances were not meant to last. As the weeks progressed, Iain grew distant. Our daily meetings became less frequent. After a lonely weekend, I did not see him at work on Monday morning.
“Where’s Iain?” a colleague asked me. “I haven’t heard from him all weekend.”
“I don’t know,” I shrugged. I was as confused as they were. I had sent Iain multiple text messages over the course of the weekend but had had no replies.
“Iain?” our team manager piped up over the cubicle wall. “He was in a wee incident with his scooter. He’ll be back in a few days.”
“Are you okay? I’m coming over to yours,” I told Iain on the phone. “I don’t care if you don’t want to see me. We need to talk.”
I took the bus to his flat and he greeted me at the door. I handed him a care package before going in – inside was homemade chicken sweet corn soup and some chocolate.
“I was drinking with a guy I was kind of seeing before we started dating,” Iain admitted to me. “I swear nothing happened between us, but I got a bit drunk and fell off my scooter. I’m sorry; I think we’re better off as friends.”
Our romance had lasted the summer, and by autumn, I was once again alone.
Queer Asian Identities in Contemporary Aotearoa New Zealand
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