*cowritten with Maria Ekarista
Reading fanfictions about your favourite gay ships, following queer-friendly accounts on Tumblr... To certain young LGBTQ+ folks, this is the largest extent to which they can embrace their identity – through an online persona.
Although Australia as a nation is relatively progressive on the global spectrum in recognising LGBTQI+ rights, being one in twenty-nine countries that legalised same-sex marriage, there is still a long way to go in making Australia a safe space for diverse individuals. The fight against homophobia is ongoing, and at times extremely exhausting for those from a more conservative cultural background.
Following the assault of four LGBTQI+ men the night before the Mardi Gras Sydney Parade, a need to review our own country’s inclusiveness has emerged. In Sydney, such behaviour may be widely condemned; in some countries, however, targeted hate and violence isn’t even a “crime”, but a legal bureaucratic measure against the vicious disease called “homosexuality”. The reality is always fabricated in the name of “morals” by the authority.
In Indonesia, homophobia has peaked in recent years when moral panic against homosexuality accumulated intensively. Politicians became openly homophobic, banning “community ‘group shelters’ for LGBT individuals” (Firdaus, 2018). The practice of forcibly shaving hair off transgender women and forcing them to march and chant until their “men voices” came out in an attempt to “correct” their gender identity, was a ruthless breach of human rights by the police, but was excused by the government. These external factors undoubtedly took a heavy toll on queer Indonesians’ wellbeing, particularly the youth still discovering their queer identity.
Cyr, an Indonesian Arts student who identifies as pansexual, became a victim of severe internalised homophobia and self-torment. Not only was she prone to panic attacks and episodes of psychosis, she suffered from anxiety and had once attempted to commit suicide. Whenever she had to visit her hometown during holidays, she experienced a “fear of being back home closeted, and also being cut out from all the necessary resources and support I was able to receive here [in Australia]”, and that her mind “insinuates it as if I’m leaving this place forever, whereas in reality it’s only for 3 months”.
Prior to discovering her queer identity, Cyr was a devout Christian. Upon Christianity’s long history of condemning homosexual acts, Cyr no longer feels comfortable attending church, as she struggles to find a “church denomination that is not only supportive of gay people but also queer inclusive”. Her process of “reconciling what it is to be a person of faith and also be queer” led to wonders of whether these two traits can coexist.
As an Asian Christian, Jessica, a bisexual genderfluid student with family roots from Hong Kong, also struggles with the lack of existing inclusive churches. Jessica said that LGBTQI+ people are like “lepers”, a biblical reference illustrating a group of diseased outcasts, in terms of the way they are treated by the Church. She stressed the irony inherent in Christian beliefs, and that it is a community that claims to love and accept everyone, yet ostracize certain people because of who they love.
Jessica recalled holding hands with a female friend in Hong Kong, which attracted stares from strangers. On the contrary, this would happen less in Australia. Jessica concluded that an integral part of Chinese culture favours traditional gender norms with very binary expectations, which makes it “scary to come out because there is no ‘grey area’”. Cisgender and heterosexual privilege takes away any empathy for queer people as “they don’t experience the fear of discrimination”.
Suny Pereira, who is half Thai, half Brazilian, spoke about her experience being out as a bisexual in a Catholic school, especially one remarkable instance of receiving an F grade on an assignment because her teacher didn’t believe “someone of your level of intelligence can write something as good as this”.
Despite the fact that Thailand is well known for its flourishing industry of gender reassignment surgeries, many people in Thailand are still ignorantly homophobic. For instance, according to Suny, there is a common misconception that being gay equals being transgender, i.e. the belief that 'if you are a homosexual man, you must want to become a woman'. Media representation of LGBTQI+ people remain comedical with a slightly degrading tone. But most importantly, the stereotype that Thai trans women are all prostitutes disabled them from having a normal lifestyle, e.g. if they applied for a job at a corporate firm in a major city, they would very likely be turned down since their transgender identity was deemed “inappropriate” in a professional business setting.
With that being said, the Australian society still has a lot to learn from Thailand. Suny explained that in Thailand, normalisation of trans people was demonstrated practically: allowing students to wear the uniform of the gender they feel comfortable in, using honorifics to acknowledge one’s gender regardless of presentation. On the other hand, the LGBTQI+ community in Australia were seen as “snowflakes”: they were being catered to but not integrated into the society. Suny insisted Australia’s approach has to change for the better, in order to see a decreasing suicide rate and greater participation in the workforce.
In the midst of conflicted times, inclusive queer-friendly groups came to the aid for a lot of closeted youth who feel marginalised and misrepresented. “Friends of Brown Gays,” founded by Sidd Sharma and relatives, is a group that gathers South Asian queer people and their families, to create a metaphorical extended family. Fobgays aims to defy stereotypes of “fresh off the boat” migrants being conservative and undeveloped, whilst establishing an allyship that combats both homophobia and racism that exists even in queer circles. “We deserve to be here as much as you do.” Sidd attested.
One of the most surprising experiences Sidd has had, was people’s positive reaction to his invitation to march at the Mardi Gras Parade, of which he initially felt skeptical about. Many people, including friends of friends, friends of parents, sponsors, technically strangers, were welcome to the idea of marching at a parade that celebrates LGBTQI+ diversity.
Similarly, Cyr’s first encounter with a Mardi Gras float called “Selamat Datang” [“Welcome” in Indonesian] was one of overflowing emotion, immense gratitude and a sense of belonging. “I remember giving a hug to one of the marchers and I was about to cry because, oh my god is this real? This is my first time seeing a float that is specifically for queer Indonesians.” Cyr reminisced.
To some degree, Australia provides a “safe haven” for queer people, but not without a lurking dark side, against which an ongoing battle persists.
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