“I’m getting married in India,” Akhil broke the news to me in the spring of 2022. “I want to invite both you and your partner to our wedding.”
Shit. We were double-booked. Jake’s friend was getting married that same week. “Congratulations!” I told Akhil. “Jake can’t go. He’s got a gay wedding to attend, but I’ll be there to celebrate your big day. I did promise you, remember.”
After twenty-eight hours and four airports, I was finally in Mumbai.
“Welcome to Mumbai!” Akhil greeted me as he picked me up from the airport. “Fuck, it’s been ages, bro. Let’s get a beer. I want you to meet my parents.”
“We’ve got the haldi and mehendi tomorrow. I’ll lend you a kurta for the ceremonies and the wedding. I still need to pick up some whisky for the after-party.” Akhil ran through the week’s itinerary like a business briefing as he wove through the traffic seamlessly.
After a hasty lunch, and a brief meeting with his parents, Akhil dropped me off at my hotel in the affluent suburbs of Hiranandani Gardens.
“One more beer before bed?” Akhil asked me.
We picked up some beers and and a few cigarettes from a roadside stall. Finally, a moment of peace as we savoured a cigarette on the suburban streets of Mumbai.
“It’s going to be a busy week. The driver will pick you up in the morning. I can’t wait for this to be over and done with.”
The haldi occurred without incident the next day – although one of Akhil’s numerous cousins, Kanta, was too enthusiastic during the ceremony and got turmeric paste in Akhil’s eye.
As day became night, what was just an altar honouring Ganesha flawlessly transformed into a dance floor. The entrance was set up as a temporary bar, and Akhil’s relatives sat around waiting for the after-party to begin.
I ordered a whisky and Thums Up and quickly sculled it back. I could not help noticing Kanta on the dance floor.
“Are you family?” I asked Kanta as I danced alongside him. This was a discreet way for me to ask if he was Queer.
“How did you know?” Kanta laughed and clapped his hands together. He made his way to the fire exit and gestured me towards him. “Let’s go for a smoke.”
I followed him out to the balcony and the familiar hot humid air, thick like soup, enveloped me with a full-bodied embrace.
“Now tell me, Sidney, how could you tell I was gay?” Kanta asked me, as he took a drag from his cigarette; he put one hand on the railing to balance himself.
“Between your taste in fashion, the dancing, and your attitude, it wasn’t much of a guess to be honest,” I joked. The whiskies and Thums Up were working its magic on me.
Earlier that afternoon, Kanta had worn a mustard kurta with a floral saari draped over his shoulder.
He was now wearing a smart suit jacket with slacks.
“My parents know I’m gay,” Kanta confessed to me. “Some family know, while others don’t. I don’t care, as long as my parents don’t mind.”
Kanta and I stood there on the balcony savouring the momentary peace and quiet while we inhaled the nicotine into our lungs. Kanta watched me intently as I admired the Mumbai skyline from the balcony.
“Where the hell were you?” Akhil asked me when I went back inside. “You and Kanta were gone for hours! We thought you’d got lost.”
“You know you two are the talk of the family right now,” Akhil laughed and patted me on the back. He ruffled my hair as if I was his child. “What happens in Mumbai stays in Mumbai, but don’t do anything you’ll regret.”
The next day, I dragged myself out of bed to meet the driver downstairs. I made my way to Juhu. The Mumbai traffic seemed extra intolerable as I tried to hold down my stomach. I remembered why I did not drink alcoholic mixers.
“How are you? I can’t remember anything from last night,” Kanta sent me a message on WhatsApp. “We should get lunch. I want to talk to you.”
I checked in to the next hotel, and we made plans to meet at a trendy restaurant in Juhu. Akhil was meant to join me that afternoon, but he was running late – as usual.
“I have a boyfriend,” Kanta told me while I picked at the pear and avocado salad in front of me. I had tried to order a Caesar salad, but Kanta was offended by my basic selection, and he had instructed me to order something else.
“He’s my first real relationship,” Kanta continued. “We’re still trying to figure out what it means to be in a relationship.”
“Your relationship can be whatever you want it to be,” I tried to contribute to the conversation.
“I know that,” Kanta responded matter-of-factly.
I briefly forgot that I was in Mumbai and not in Ōtautahi. It did not take me long to realise that the Queer experience was not universal.
“What’s it like to be gay in New Zealand?” Kanta asked curiously.
I diverted my attention from the salad to the cheese fondue. I tried my best not to lose the crouton that was hanging precariously from my fork.
“It’s not bad, but it sucks if you’re not white.” I reported it as it was. There was no point sugar-coating my experience. “There’s a lot of racism in the community.”
“Is that so?” Kanta considered my words. He then began to laugh. “Why would I leave Mumbai then? I have everything I need here. If you have enough money and come from the right caste, nobody cares if you’re gay.”
We finished our meal, and he dropped me off at the hotel. Ashish was waiting for me outside with an autorickshaw (tuk-tuk) ready to take me to the next engagement.
“There’s a gay party later tonight if you’re interested,” Kanta told me as we parted ways. “I’d love to see you there.”
On the day of Akhil’s wedding, I saw Kanta again with his nephew. His nephew was barely two years old and was sound asleep with his head resting on his shoulder.
“Why would he leave?” I thought to myself. Kanta had access to his family, his language, and his culture. This was his home.
I felt estranged from my family. My language and culture were my only connection to home. Where was home and what does home look like for me?
“I’m going to Hong Kong,” I told Iain as we laid in bed. “Do you want to come with me?” “Of course, it’ll be fun!” Iain replied enthusiastically.
It was the summer of 2015. I had invited Iain to come with me to Hong Kong after dating him for only a few weeks. Even though our relationship only lasted the summer, the tickets were already booked and there was nothing I could do about it. Thankfully, we were still good friends.
Mum wanted my brother and me to go to Hong Kong so we could collect our Hong Kong identity cards. My brother went the year previously, and it was now my turn to go back. Our Mum secretly wanted us to move back to Hong Kong for work or study so she would have an excuse to be with her family and friends.
「咩話.」 (What?) Mum did not sound pleased.
「我個朋友想同我一齊去香港.」 (My friend wants to visit Hong Kong with me.) I told her as I booked our flight tickets.
My parents were very private people and did not like or appreciate the intrusion of strangers. This was why we never had sleepovers as children.
I met Mum in Sydney, and we travelled onwards to Hong Kong as a pair. It was after 清明 festival, which signalled the start of the typhoon season. I smelt the electricity in the air and the humidity clung to my skin.
Mum and I were staying in different locations – I was staying with an auntie in Tseung Kwan O (將軍澳) while Mum was staying with other family in Quarry Bay (魚涌). This incidental arrangement ensured maximum privacy.
The first thing I did when I landed in Hong Kong was open Grindr and Tinder. I did not know what to expect as I had only ever used these platforms in Ōtautahi where I was often greeted with “no fats, no femmes, no Asians”, but instead I received notification after notification.
The last time I had been in Hong Kong was for a brief layover in 2012. I was finally around people who looked and sounded like me for the first time. The number of people on those platforms also impressed me. I did not expect there to be a thriving Queer community. Frankly, I did not expect to see other Queer and Cantonese people like me. It was the first time I was aware that there were people who shared my language, my culture, my world view, and my sexuality. I felt liberated. Even though I was under constant surveillance around my family, I was in a city of seven million people. There was little risk I would encounter anyone that could out me to my family. I could broaden the confines of my closet. I still muted my notifications as a precaution.
There was one person I did know in Hong Kong – Martin, who I had met in Germany. He was studying in Canada, but he was home for the summer. I wanted to meet up with him so I could ask him questions on what it was like to grow up in Hong Kong. As fate would have it, I was lying in bed swiping through Tinder, when I saw a familiar profile picture. He used the same profile picture for Facebook. This was the night before we were meant to meet up. I did not expect to see his profile and I suddenly felt like an intruder.
「你好嗎，好耐冇見.」(How are you? I have not seen you in a long time.) I yelled across the crowd to Martin. He was waiting for me on the other side of the subway station.
Martin heard my voice and made his way towards me. He wove through the impenetrable crowds and ended up on my side of the station.
I reached out to Martin for a hug. He reciprocated my hug, but I could sense the awkward energy between us. It was probably because we barely knew each other, or perhaps he knew that I saw him on Tinder. It did not matter then.
「真係好耐冇見，你點呀.」(It really has been a while. How have you been?) Martin greeted me courteously.
Martin guided me through the narrow streets of Tsim Sha Tsui and we arrived at the English-style restaurant he wanted to take me to.
「返學返成點呀.」 (How was school?) I asked Martin with genuine curiosity.
「係咁啦.」 (It’s okay.) Martin responded as he flicked through the menu.
As Martin and I warmed up to each other, we became more talkative. Over the course of the meal, we talked about how our lives had changed since we last saw each other. We reminisced about our time in Germany, and we compared our experiences of living in Canada and Aotearoa.
The whole time Martin and I talked, I held on to his secret. I waited for the right time to mention what I saw the night before.
“I saw you on Tinder,” I confessed to Martin when it was finally time for us to leave. “Also, I think I’m gay.”
I did not know what else to say. I did not want to out Martin in public. At this point we switched to English. Maybe this would offer us a bit more privacy.
“I know,” Martin whispered quietly. “I also saw you. I didn’t know what to say.” “Then why did you not swipe right on me!” I joked.
Martin laughed. Maybe a joke is what we needed to break the tension. I could sense in that moment that we went from acquaintances to friends.
“I’ve still got time,” Martin told me as we settled the bill. “Should we go for a walk?”
We walked along the busy streets of Tsim Sha Tsui, and people surrounded us. The perfect place for a heart-to-heart conversation.
“I came out to myself last year,” Martin told me. “I told Mum about my feelings recently, but she told me not to mention anything to Dad.”
“Same here,” I replied and recounted my experiences so far.
Martin and I continued to talk as we ventured through the winding streets of Tsim Sha Tsui. The further we walked, the more we talked about our struggles. He was the first person I could openly talk to about my identity in English and Cantonese. We both felt in and out of the closet.
As my time in Hong Kong progressed, I became more empowered. I messaged anyone who was interested in me. I felt bolder knowing that I was not in the minority.
I wanted to meet other Queer people who could help me verbalise the feelings I had internalised. I knew some students from Ōtautahi, so I used them as an excuse to venture out. Thankfully, this did not raise any suspicions with Mum.
Iain arrived a week after me and he stayed with me at my aunt’s apartment. We shared my cousin’s bunk bed who was boarding with my parents in Aotearoa. I was in the top bunk, and I fantasised about what we would have been doing had we still been together.
「你知道 係基架呵.」 (You know he’s gay, right?) My auntie warned me one evening while Iain was in the bathroom.
「有咩問題呢.」 (What’s the problem?) I told my auntie, quite rightfully. Iain was not discreet about his Queerness, but it did not matter.
「你唔係基嘩.」 (Well, you’re not gay, right?) My auntie joked. I thought she was expecting a definitive answer from me.
「基唔基有點呢.」 (Does it matter if I’m gay or not?) I asked my auntie in return.
My aunt and I cut short our exchange when Iain returned to the lounge. It was quite clear that there was still a lot of work to do before I could come out to my family. I first had to learn the language to help me put these feelings into words. One person who helped me to externalise my feelings was Nathaniel who I met on Tinder.
“I have a boyfriend,” Nathaniel told me. “Why would he care if I’m here to meet people?”
I was curious with his arrangement. I met him in Kowloon, and he took me to a Korean barbecue restaurant. I was surprised by how comfortable he was talking about his Queer identity.
“I realised I was gay when I was in the US,” Nathaniel said while grilling beef. “I came out to Mum, but she told me not to tell Dad.”
“Are you going to come out to your dad?” I asked curiously.
Nathaniel’s story sounded remarkably similar.
“What’s the point? Why would I want to ruin the balance of my family for a romantic relationship?” he replied, frankly. It was not worth the hassle.
After dinner, we took the MTR to Tsing Yi (青衣). We walked past a bamboo theatre erected in honour of Tin Hau 天后. Many worshippers across the Southern Chinese coast still know her as 媽祖 (Ancestral Mother).
We know Tin Hau as the protector of seafarers. One version of the myth spoke of how she saved her family who were caught out at sea during a typhoon. Tin Hau risked her life, fell into a trance, and chanted to the heavens asking for the safe return of her family. Her father and brother returned to shore unscathed, and she was deified for her miracle. Her dedication to her family is the reason there are still hundreds, if not thousands, of temples built in her honour. Tin Hau was the exemplary child willing to sacrifice her life for her family.
“We can’t all be like her,” Nathaniel joked as we walked past the altar. We stood in front of the Ancestral Mother and bowed three times before moving on.
「值唔值得含洋腸.」 (Is the Western dick worth it?) Nathaniel asked me as he listened to me recount my experience in Aotearoa.
“Do you know why you’re always expected to be a bottom?” Nathaniel continued with his lecture. “It’s because white people think they’re still colonisers. They colonised our land. They colonised our people. And now they want to colonise your hole.”
“Why don’t you find yourself a Cantonese boy who looks like you and understands your culture? You can’t be colonised again by your own people.”
“But what about the Chinese in Mainland China.” I asked Nathaniel. I had never had someone speak to me with such honesty.
“What about them?” Nathaniel laughed. “You don’t think the Northerners wouldn’t colonise us if they had the chance?”
“It doesn’t matter if you’re gay or straight. When the communists took over the Mainland in 1949, we were no longer one people. You can go back to your ancestral village, but that no longer exists. We will never be the same.”
“Sidney, don’t be so naive. Don’t take things for granted. How many times do you need to be colonised before you realise how fucked up the world actually is? We need to create our own futures. That is the only way we can find balance.”
I mulled over Nathaniel’s words, but I wanted to sample Hong Kong one more time. I went back on Grindr one last time. The stranger from Grindr told me to meet him outside de Spa Chocolatier. I snuck away from my friends who were still clubbing in Lan Kwai Fong 蘭桂坊.
“I’ll send my location,” the stranger instructed me.
When I received the location, I made my way towards the rendezvous point. The streets were dark and quiet. The sleepless city was asleep for once.
“You must be Sidney.” I heard a voice from the shadows.
The stranger emerged from the darkness.
“I’m dying for a drink. I saw a 7-Eleven around the corner,” The stranger suggested. “I’m Lucas by the way. I’ve just flown in from London.”
I followed Lucas to the 7-Eleven. The storefront was lit like a beacon on the hollow street. “I’m Sidney.” I tried to make conversation. “I was just in Lan Kwai Fong with my friends from New Zealand.”
“I do recognise that accent!” Lucas commented. “I’ve spent time in Auckland.”
Lucas took a six-pack of Asahi from the fridge. He stopped me from paying at the counter while he fumbled around with his wallet. He took out his newly minted Octopus card.
“Come with me,” Lucas instructed me. “I’ll take you upstairs.”
Lucas pointed towards a dimly lit building, and I followed his directions. As we entered the building, the security guard inspected me intently from his desk as I entered the elevator with my new companion.
“My work has put me up here while I find a place of my own. I’ve just started my new job as a journalist in the city,” Lucas told me. “I hope you don’t mind it.”
I walked out on to the balcony and observed the city below. The waves on Victoria Harbour reflected the light off the skyscrapers and the boats. I could see why people called Hong Kong the “Pearl of the Orient”.
Lucas held me close to him and gently kissed me on the neck. We spent the night in a deep embrace while the city woke up beneath us.
「下一站寶琳」 (Next station Po Lam)
“Did you meet anyone last night?” Iain asked me when we met up the next morning.
We met outside the subway station so my auntie would not suspect that Iain and I had not been together the whole night.
“I did,” I replied coyly. “How about you? Did you meet anyone?” “I did indeed,” Iain gleamed.
「下一站羅湖」 (Next station Lo Wu)
“Are you back in Hong Kong yet?” Lucas asked me excitedly on WhatsApp a few days later. I was in Mainland China for three days. I felt like I was there much longer.
“Yes, I’m back!” I messaged back quickly.
“Can we meet up?” he replied instantaneously. “We need to celebrate!”
When we cleared customs, I said goodbye to Mum, and I took the train to meet Lucas.
「下一站香港大學」 (Next station HKU)
I wandered around the train station aimlessly. Lucas had instructed me to meet him outside.
“It was a mission to get this, but I’m glad it’s finally arrived,” Lucas told me.
Lucas proudly flashed his new Hong Kong identification card in front of my face. “There’s also something else I want to show you. Follow me!”
I followed him down the busy streets of Sai Wan 西灣. It was late afternoon, and the street hawkers were busy setting up their stalls. We turned into a cul-de-sac.
“I just got the keys to my new apartment,” Lucas told me as he fumbled with his keys.
Lucas gave the door a firm push and we were greeted with a modest sized apartment.
“How do you like it?” Lucas asked me for my approval.
“It’s nice,” I told him as I ran my fingers along the fresh bed sheets. Lucas grabbed my arm and pulled me into him. He kissed me on the lips.
“Welcome home,” Lucas told me and kissed me on the lips.
「下一站西營盤」 (Next station Sai Ying Pun)
The last time I met Lucas was also my last night in Hong Kong. I told Mum I would be out partying with friends. One more lie. I wanted to spend my last night with Lucas.
We walked down Third Street 第三街. The pavement was wet and reflected the neon-lit signs. As we walked together, we quietly acknowledged the life around us. The lights shone through the barred windows on to the steep road, and we listened to the dull humming of ancient air-conditioning units.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I scolded Lucas jokingly. We had just had dinner and he had made a big deal about paying for our meal. “Why didn’t you let me pay for dinner?”
“When I was nineteen, I went on a date with an older man.” Lucas began telling me his story. “He was only ten years older than me. And like you, I tried to pay for dinner.”
“He told me I didn’t need to pay, because one day I’d find myself in a similar situation.” Lucas continued narrating his story as we walked down the street side by side. “One day I’ll be on a date with a younger man, and it’ll be my turn to pay.”
“After that date, I never saw him again.” Lucas’s voice lingered with a hint of melancholy. “I guess today was the day.”
As I reflected on Lucas’s story, I wondered if the path I had chosen was a lonely path. Was I destined to be alone for the rest of my life? Was I destined, like Lucas, and those that came before him, to sojourn from one relationship to another – never to find a sense of balance?
We went upstairs to Lucas’s apartment. He undressed me and he held me close to his chest. We stood there in a trance, slowly swaying to the music. Yellow Flicker Beat played in the background. It was our last night together. He led me to his bed. He kissed my neck. He then kissed my navel. I listened to the sound of traffic in the background. The moist air hung heavy on my skin. I held on to Lucas one last time.
「下一站北角」 (Next station North Point)
The next morning, I was the only person on the train. What was meant to be a simple holiday became a monumental turning point in my life. I realised that staying in the closet was not my only option, but what other alternatives were there for people like me?
My journey had ended. It was time for me to go home.
「請勿靠近車門」 (Please mind the gap)
Queer Asian Identities in Contemporary Aotearoa New Zealand
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