Bakla. This was the word I was scared to hear as a kid and something my mom would ask me as I was growing up. She would say, “are you bakla?” and every time she asked me I would say no but deep down I knew I was lying. For those that don’t know, bakla is a common Tagalog term used for a queer or a gay person in the Philippines. In my home, it felt like a forbidden word that I would do anything in my power to avoid hearing. This meant trying my best to act as straight as possible or code switching to prevent any attention on me. Little did I know that the thing that I was scared of saying would be the word I would need to embrace when I got older.
Fast forward to my college years. In 2014, I made the decision to come out as a gay man. At the time, I had just finished my freshman year at the University of Alabama at Birmingham. If you know anything about the south, then you know it can be pretty difficult for folks to be gay, especially a person of color like myself.
Over the course of the summer I had really struggled to come to terms with my sexuality but I knew something had to give and I slowly started to tell my hometown friends. Things were a bit different when it was time for me to come back for my sophomore year. In your typical 2010s angst fashion, I made the decision to come out via Twitter with a link to a blog post where I had written my formal coming out story. This was incredibly difficult for me because I was in a fraternity and I had spent the whole last year trying to convince my fraternity brothers and all my new college friends that I was straight. Turns out, I had spent the whole year trying to be something I was not.
The whole journey of coming out focused on so many different parts of my identity at that time and with all those identities, I had so many fears of how I would be perceived by all of my communities. I was so concerned with my religious upbringing, my fraternity brothers, and all my new friends that I overlooked one important piece of who I am. I had neglected to see how coming out affected me as a gay Filipino man.
As I’ve grown older, I’ve taken the time to understand and embrace the intersectionality of being a gay Filipino man. I needed to understand how racism, homophobia, and cultural expectations would play a large part in my life. I lived and I saw how racism is present even in the queer community and how homophobia would present itself in my own cultural and family circles. One thing in particular that I’d like to highlight is existing in spaces where it’s white-dominated, heternormative, or even both. Oftentimes, I’ll see Reddit or other social media posts of other Asian men talking about their negative experiences in these spaces. Unfortunately, I know this feeling all too well and it’s such an isolating experience. You would think that you would be welcomed by all these communities the second you come out, but acceptance is not something that’s always freely given.
The question then begs itself as to why this is a recurring experience among gay Asian men. Depending on where you are, Asians can be seen as the bottom of the social and sexual hierarchy. How this came to be is a result of Western colonial history, media emasculation, and systemic racism. The way that Asians are negatively portrayed and treated in the media contributes to the belief that we may not be as desirable as other races within the queer community. We are seen as effeminate and passive, which are deemed as unlikeable qualities. In a world that places value on white gay men, gay men of color like Asians are rendered invisible in these spaces.
Despite my heartbreaking shared experiences with other gay Asian men, I have hope for the future that these spaces and mindsets will change. As education and inclusivity in media change, there’s a growing shift that different skin tones, accents, and body types exist and are welcomed and loved. To my fellow queer Asian brothers and sisters, the journey of coming out and becoming is neverending. There will always be spaces or situations where the world doesn’t see us or acknowledge, but no one can erase us. Stand firmly in who you are in these spaces and remember that you are inherently deserving of love and respect. On the flip side, create and find spaces where you are seen and valued. In the current world we live in, it’s never a bad idea to find a place or a community where you can live unapologetically.
A silly phrase that always keeps me positive is, “Don’t let anyone dim your sparkle just because you shine differently.” Our true value and existence isn’t defined by these Western or heteronormative ideals. We are Asian, we are incredible, and we are hot, and if you’re like me, you’re proud to say you’re bakla.
