I’ve known since I was very young that there was something wrong with me. I wasn’t like other kids and they didn’t seem to think the way I did. I didn’t have any real friends–not the way other kids had friends. They talked about the tv shows they watched (I didn’t watch much tv) or the movies they went to (I never went to the movies) or the latest songs (I didn’t listen to music. Apocryphal story that I’ve been telling for decades. The first pop song I ever heard was Electric Avenue by Eddy Grant when I was in sixth grade.) I read in most of my free time, which was not popular to talk about.
I was fat, Taiwanese (before it was hot/sexy/in to be Asian), brainy, and had no sense of what would make me fit in. Second-generation American struggles are real, yo. I constantly felt like I was an alien in a strange world. I had no idea what I was supposed to say or do. It was a miserable experience and I became deeply depressed when I was seven. I spent the next twenty years wanting to die, but not having the guts to do it. I learned to act like a normal person, but I felt as if the rules were always changing. And, of course, what was normal for one person or group of people was not the same for others.
One thing I’ve learned in my many decades on this planet. People love to categorize other people. Maybe this is just an American thing, but I doubt it. We tend to be attracted to people who are like us. It’s human nature; I don’t begrudge that. It’s the way to know if you’re safe or not in a quick heuristic glance. But, there are limits to the heuristics, and I’m finding them not useful at all these days.
Here’s the thing. Most people are black-and-white thinkers. They are binary in their beliefs, even when it comes to ideas that don’t lend themselves to being so concrete. When we talk about racial issues, it’s always black and white. MAYBE brown thrown in for good measures from time to time, but I wouldn’t hold my breath as an Asian and forget about indigenous folks at all. We Asians came up for a hot second with the corona virus causing many people to lose their minds and start outright hating on Asians, rather than just doing it quietly. I’ve given up a long time ago about anyone caring about Asian people in America except for the quick sentence when anti-Asian violence happens.
Then, there’s me being neither straight nor gay. I used to say I was bi, but that never felt right. It was more a default label than anything else because I couldn’t find anything better or a more precise description. If I wanted to be unbearably twee about it, I am more attracted to brains than the physical body. I do prefer thick bodies, androgynous looks, and dark hair (think Rachel Maddow in any gender, yes, down to the nerd glasses). However, I care more about what is in the brain than the physical pulchritude. I can grow attracted to someone based on their personality or go in the opposite direction–meaning, I might find someone hot, but if they open their mouth and say something unbelievably ignorant, that lust dries up like the Sahara desert.
I realized in my early twenties that I was attracted to both men and women. I did not want to deal with it at the time because I was just coming to grips with the fact that I was Asian. Which meant, hello, racism! Oh, you exist? And also a woman. Definitely had the female bits that caused some people to view me as lesser. In other words, I did not want to deal with bipohiba, internalized and otherwise at the same time. So I acknowledged it to myself and came out during a writing workshop for Asians, then came out to my mother, which was disastrous. She could deal with my cousin being gay with compassion, but not with me being bi. She trotted out the tiresome, “What next, animals?” line–which, by the way, how did that become a thing? Like, why is sex with animals ever a thought on your mind, Mom?! She also lamented that I had always been crazy about boys (my response: I still am. I’m just crazy about girls, too. And, yes, ‘girls’ was said firmly tongue in cheek. She also confessed that she thought this would make it easier for the devil to enter me and dance on my spine. Which, I mean, what?????
Needless to say, we never talked about it again. When I brought up my bisexuality several years later, she said, “Oh, you still think you’re like that?” Which, again, not the best way to deal with someone talking about their sexuality. But that’s my mother; I’m not surprised. She cannot accept that others might think in a way that differs from her own.
I get it. We all think we’re the standard and everyone else is the deviation. Well, depending on your level of privilege, that is. But why wouldn’t you? Your experience is all you know. Of course you’re going to think that’s norm, especially if it’s supported by society, media, your family, and your friends. That’s one of the benefits of diversity, by the way. Opening up your mind and realizing that your way of life is just one way. In America, if you’re a cis, white, het guy with a white-collar job, a wife, and kids, and you go to church on Sundays, it’s the majority life, yes, but it’s still not the only one.
I’ve never had that illusion. I’ve never been allowed to think I was normal. Let’s add up all the ways I deviate from the norm. Asian. Queer. Areligious. Genderqueer (AFAB). Single with no kids. Not interested in a long-term monogamous relationship. That’s not even touching the fact that I died twice and came back twice, surviving non-COVID-related walking pneumonia, two cardiac arrests, and a stroke. I don’t drink or do drugs. I am allergic to everything on earth, have sensory issues, and am an empath. I am smart as fuck. I like FromSoft games and Taiji weapons.
It’s a truism that we’re each an individual. I mean, it’s obviously true, but it’s also used as an empty slogan–especially in America. But wee are drawn to others who are like us. I have my people, but it’s a small circle with every qualifier I throw behind my name. I used to get frustrated in college because I’d bring up women’s issues in my Asian groups and Asian issues in my women’s groups, and I’d get shut down hard by both. I can’t separate myself into segments, focusing on one at a time. I was pro-intersectionality before I even knew it existed.
I’m old. I’ve reached the point where I think labels have outgrown their usefulness, but I don’t think we can move past heuristics completely. Not in the practical sense, anyway. Categories are important for many reasons, and I’m not going to die on the hill of dismantling them. However, I just don’t feel comfortable with, well, any of them for myself. I think it’s because I’m used to being dismissed or overlooked over the years. Plus, I grew up with two unreliable narrators who gaslit me about my own experiences. As a consequence, I have a mania for exactness that may or may not be healthy. So, using labels that don’t describe me feels very imprecise and as if I’m not being seen.
I switched from bisexual to queer in the last few months because while the latter still doesn’t describe me (I’m closest to agender, I think), the former is just archaic to me now. Plus, I’m just queer in many ways (have decided genderqueer is closest to true for me), so why not? Yes, it’s another default label, but with a lot less baggage.