Ethnic communities must address homophobia

Ethnic communities must address homophobia

I rarely eavesdrop on conversations, but this one was so
irresistibly volatile and heated that I could barely contain
myself.

"You know, when I see two men kissing each other, I just feel
like throwing up," one said to the other. His friend nodded in
agreement. "It’s like, it’s just not right, not natural. It makes
me sick."

"And those damn ROTC freaks," his friend added. "They just go
too far. It’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. I hate that
sh–."

Shocked and angered, I remarked quietly, "You just have not had
any exposure to the queer community, and you’re just ignorant."
What irritated me the most was not necessarily that these comments
were made in the first place, but that they were made by activists
of color, and the conversation took place near my work, the
Samahang Pilipino Education and Retention project, and the other
three retention projects for students of color.

I was embarrassed, and I was ashamed. What if queer students who
utilized the services of our retention projects had been within
earshot? I would surely never come back to a non-queer-friendly
program. Additionally, the comments seemed to refuse to acknowledge
the existence of queers of color, and that the only gay, lesbian,
and bisexual people are the white ones in West Hollywood.

Surely there are no queers in my community, and if there are,
hell, I don’t want to see them.

I came to this earth-shattering and ego-crushing realization
last spring: I was not as down as I thought I was. When I listed
the oppressions I faced, I counted only those that existed in my
reality and in the realities of "mainstream" (whatever that may
mean) Pilipinos: racism, sexism, classism. Rarely, if ever, did I
include homophobia and heterosexism, though I had taken women’s
studies classes and gender and sexuality classes.

These issues never concerned me because I was a smug college
senior, so secure in my so-called activism, ethnic awareness and
pride in my identity. I knew what it was to be Pilipina. I knew my
history and my issues. No one could school me further on my
community. I had thrown myself to the lions when I wrote my "Why I
Want to Marry a Pilipino Man" column last spring. What more could I
do to make myself more down?

However, I had yet to meet a bakla or a Pinay lesbian.

Last spring, I met Sonny. We became close friends, and then I
found out last summer that we were distant relatives. Gay, lesbian
and bisexual issues were no longer on the periphery of Pilipino
identity and social justice issues, at least for me. It was a
quick, painful, and ultimately much-needed education I received
this last spring and summer.

I’m a feminist of color. I try to acknowledge my privileges and
fight my oppressions. I attempt to attack sexism on all fronts. But
I was, and I still am, a damn homophobie. And so is the rest of my
community.

Becoming close friends with someone gay, lesbian and bisexual
and becoming, if only sometimes, included in queer space forces one
to come to grips with issues few "down" Pinoy activists want to
consider, much less think about. One has to question their own
sexuality, and acknowledge their heterosexual privileges.

While I know these same concerns plague other communities of
color, I can only speak of the community I am closest to, the
Pilipino community, and to a lesser extent, the Asian Pacific
Islander one. I have been ashamed of the blatant homophobia and
ignorance displayed by my brothers and sisters, especially those
who call themselves leaders of the community and yet refuse to be
sensitive and respectful of the issues, culture, and concerns of
the queer Pilipino community. I am wary of Pilipinos who claim to
be down for the community, yet are the first ones to make some sort
of homophobic comment

I also strongly believe that so much of the ignorance stems from
the lack of exposure and contact straight-identified Pilipinos have
with queer Pilipinos, and the insistence on separating the
constructs of gender, sexuality and ethnicity. So many so-called
"down" Pilipinos insist on the erroneous belief that the four
identities exist separately from one another. One cannot be
Pilipino and gay, or a feminist and a Pilipina.

Some Pilipinos even take personal offense at the mere existence
of their queer brothers and sisters, as if coming out of the closet
and identifying themselves as gays, lesbians and bisexuals would
somehow signal a break from the Pilipino community, as if they are
saying, "I am now gay, and no longer Pilipino." Nothing could be
further from the truth.

My own ignorance prevented me from seeing until only recently
that one can be just as brown and Pilipino as anyone in the
community, and at the same time, be gay, lesbian, or bisexual. The
Pilipino community at UCLA is just beginning to come to terms with
its homophobia and heterosexism, and a new group for queer Pinoys
and those interested in queer Pilipino issues ­ Kabalikat
­ was created this year. The formation of Kabalikat, which
loosely translates to "standing together in the struggle," is a
historic move on the part of Samahang Pilipino to support
communities within our community of Pilipinos.

Our homophobia comes from centuries of Catholic domination and
indoctrination in the Philippines and here in the United States.
Our community is narrow-minded, homophobic, heterosexist,
maddeningly conservative on many issues and averse to discussing
sexuality issues. Because of raging homophobia and lack of
awareness, many Pilipinos find it difficult, if not impossible, to
come out to their community. And once they are out, it is
questionable whether or not they will feel comfortable with being
out to the Pilipino community and their families.

I realize how ridiculous I might sound, a straight woman trying
to educate on queer issues. I have probably reduced issues to too
simplistic terms, or stumbled over explanations. I am not
pretending to be some sort of expert on queer Pinoy issues. It just
happens to be that over the past months, I have made many friends
in the queer Pinoy community, and I want to share my increased
awareness. I’m still learning, and I know I will never be totally
exorcised of my homophobia. The arrogance of activists who refuse
to acknowledge that there are queer Pilipinos and that their issues
are our issues just infuriates me.

However, what I am asking is that heterosexual activists of
color who know their issues on race and class challenge themselves
to think about gender and sexuality, and that they educate
themselves on the issues of gays, lesbians and bisexuals within
their larger ethnic families.

Mabalon is the director of SPEAR, Samahang Pilipino Education
and Retention Project. She graduated in June with a bachelor’s in
history and Asian American studies.