Voices From the Community: Cruising, Blackmail, and Guns

"As a gay, Muslim teenager growing up in a posh area of Karachi, Pakistan, I struggled to hide from my family the fact that I was attracted to other men. I immersed myself in literature, and as a precocious ninth grader I produced and acted in George Bernard Shaw's farce "Passion, Poison and Petrifaction," a play whose title unconsciously expressed my nervous view of the Pakistani world outside my cocoon. Looking for an exit, I was a superachiever in a hurry. At 18, I earned a scholarship to Stanford University. I should have made a clean break then. But all through college I dated women, willing myself to be "normal." Not surprisingly, my attraction to men didn't wane.

In grad school, I was ready for adventure and decided to spend a summer back home researching rural-development projects. I worked with a local social worker, a handsome, bearded man who liked to flirt. We'd sit together under the sun discussing politics, while I observed his body under his diaphanous kurta shalwar. Knowing he was married, I didn't dare make a move.

One evening I drove to a park known for being Karachi's unofficial cruising spot for gay men. Within a few minutes I noticed a burly man with a heavy mustache in his late 30s gesturing toward me. My heart was pounding as he approached. "I have a place we can go," he said, and we started walking toward the park's exit, visions of a forbidden tryst flashing in my mind.

In my air-conditioned car he gave me driving directions. Looking around, he suddenly sneered, "This is a very nice, expensive car." I started getting nervous. He didn't touch me. He gave no signals.

We arrived at the entrance to a dingy house and entered the driveway. He locked the gate behind us, told me to wait in the car and disappeared into the house. I was sweating profusely now and wondered, "Can I still get out of this situation?" Five minutes later he came out, visibly angry now, sat in the car and pointed a gun at me. He said he was an undercover cop and that inside the house were several men waiting to rape me to teach me a lesson. "What is wrong with people like you?" he yelled maniacally. "You should like girls, or you will be treated like one."

My lust had transformed into immobilizing fear. He told me to drive again, and as we drove around for what seemed like hours, I had a vague sense that I needed to play his game and find a way to survive this ordeal. He demanded that I admit homosexuality was a sin, and I eventually complied. I also promised to meet him at a hotel the following day, where he would tell me how much money he wanted. He warned me that he had my car's license-plate number, and that he'd track me down if I didn't show."

Read the rest of the story at Out of the Closet, At Gunpoint

Voices From the Community: Queer and Disabled

"I was born with Osteogenesis Imperfecta (OI), or brittle bone disease, a disorder characterised by bones that break easily, often from little or no apparent cause. As a two-month-old baby I suffered the first fracture when I merely crossed my legs. Four months later, I sustained another one. Between two and eight, I had many fractures - sometimes when I walked, at other times, when I simply turned in my bed! But these would heal in a few days. The severity of the disease struck only when I suffered a severe, extremely painful fracture to my femur (thigh bone) during a trip to Ludhiana. At eight, I was disabled for life - unable to stand or walk. By the time I turned 13, I had suffered 14 fractures on various parts below the waist (my upper body was thankfully intact). But it left me and my family completely disillusioned. I stopped schooling and was forced to complete my studies from home.

OI is a genetic disorder. I inherited it from my mom, a diabetes patient, who suffered a severe fracture at 40. One of my sisters and niece also suffer from OI, but they are mild cases. Since I was born a few years after my mother's attack, I was severely afflicted. My last fracture was at 13; it happened while I was sleeping! Apart from the excruciating pain, the worse part about OI is not knowing when you will suffer the next fracture. At times, it can strike the same body part. Thankfully, my bones stopped breaking after 13.

But I was going through another turmoil in my mind.

The turning point

After I attained puberty, I realised that I was attracted to men. Puberty, in many ways, was a blessing for me, for it not only stopped my fractures, but also aided my sexual development. Though I had not realised the implications of being gay, I confessed my feelings to my sister who supported and counselled me. Being practically bed-ridden, my social life was negligible so I never really understood the situation in its correct perspective, until years later."

Read the rest of Lekha Menon's story at MumbaiMirror.com

Voices From The Community: Fighting for Human Rights or Battling Ethnocentricism?

I come on Queeristan to read for news on Section 377. I notice a lovely debate posted by a fellow blogger (http://queeristan.blogspot.com/2008/09/getting-ball-rolling.html). It made me question myself and my thoughts on decriminalising homosexuality in India.

I would love to say I am for human rights, but I’m also a huge fan of respect. Sometimes I find myself making very ethnocentric remarks, like “In Canada, such discrimination is illegal, I don’t see why they do that here” or “North America has a different opinion on this topic and it seems to work better for us”. They really are ethnocentric remarks, because my experiences are solely Canadian. And those experiences temper my judgement and consequently my actions.

Human rights are important to me, but to what extent can I fight for them in another country? It reminds me of those groups worldwide boycotting the Olympics in China, or even the US’s War in Iraq. Granting democracy in another country is a very ethnocentric ideology, because the ‘if it works in my country, it will work in yours too’ phrase is reverberated exponentially to prove ‘my country works better than your country’.

What I’m trying to say here is that as much as I would love to see my Indian homosexual brethren to live happily as who they are in their own country, the laws must reflect society. The video posted by Samsaricanu featured a panellist who said: “in 2000, there was a survey conducted in 41 countries that should homosexuality be accepted in society… in India the results were 7% for [decriminalisation of homosexuality] and 63% against [decriminalisation of homosexuality]…” If 63% of responses believe that homosexuality should not be legalised, then why should I say that they are ‘wrong’? Laws should reflect society’s views. Human rights, as much as I hate to say it, differ from country to country. What I see as a human right back in Canada or here in Germany could be different from that in India or China or any other place for that matter.

With my background and environmental upbringing, I can see, as a Canadian through our legal and freedom system, that decriminalising homosexuality is undoubtedly the way to go, hands down, no doubt about it, etc. But I’m not Indian. I am not a citizen and I really do not know exactly how culture is, how it is defined, and how the overall population feels about certain issues. So when I make a comment that “homosexuality should be decriminalised in India”, am I making a statement for human rights? Or am I just being ethnocentric?

Voices From the Community: Are South Asian Closets Different?

You’ll have to forgive me if I’m a bit defensive or cloistered in myself in this post, because it’s hard putting yourself out. It’s a pretty uncomfortable position (like the back of a volkswagon).

About a year ago, I wrote about my participation in Upper Caste Supremacy (i.e. casteism). I want to continue this line of discussion (regardless of whether anyone else is interested) because I was encouraged to do so by a good friend whose judgement I trust on emotional matters. She suggested tying this analysis of neurosis to sexuality.

To be honest, I don’t really understand it, which is why I made this an open thread. I can put forward some simple possible hypothetical relationships. body = dirty = shame. sexuality = bodily desire x desire for other bodies = double shame. And there’s always Freud and Foucault and blah blah blah, but it’s…a bit theoretical. A basic question I’m struggling with is whether or not something as personal as sexuality and specifically neuroses associated can be really be taxonomized with any degree of certitude, let alone “from below”.

(haha, very funny, you think you’re so clever–we all thought that when we read that phrase).

And even if it can, how does it intersect with self? personality? gender? money? power? For example, I have a hard time believing that the intersection of gender and sexuality constructs “men” and “women” in ways that are the same in terms of how they approach sexuality in terms of fluidity / rigid categories - but I wonder to what extent this is a product of middle-class/rich American gender construction (the waters of the model minorities among us). At the same time, gender gets read into same-sex relationships too - bottom, top, butch, femme, etc. Hetero/homo/bi/queer sexuality? I was on a panel about sexuality at a middle-class ethnic conference in the U.S. a while back, and most of the people in the audience, really unsurprisingly, were hetero people who related very closely to the idea of being “different” from their parents’ expectations in terms of who they brought home. Not that I ever bring anyone home. And then there’s race - is the parental thing really a South Asian thing even among straight people? Even a White straight friend of mine once remarked to me that he thought it was a misfortune for straight people that they never HAVE to come out and mark a breaking point from their parents, with which I largely agree (about effects, anyway).

But the point being that this is all in need of a great deal of construction and deconstruction in order for it to be made sensible…which is a questionable goal to begin with. The complicatedness is really not that different from any other identity marker that’s so personal, so implicated with who you are that the very idea of becoming an object of your own analysis (let alone someone else’s) is frightening, gross, disempowering, or angering; what identit(ies) and what reactions you have depend, I guess on which ones are closest to home in your life experience, and the extent to which its socially and personally dealt with. For me, I think the difficulties are one of the reasons I’ve been able to contribute the LEAST titillating item on sexuality ever created in the history of the Internet, but it’s actually pretty humbling in a good way to remember your lessons in foucault.

And at least we’ll get entertaining spam

Anyway, if you are willing to open up and share stories in the comments, it would be a wonderful gift to all of us. And if not, well, I understand. I only just today got up the courage to ask a lovely family member, who’s um, prone to fits of voicing not-nice-and/or-stupid-things-about-the-queerfolk if she’ll come to my (hypothetical) same-sex wedding.

Believe me, I understand. Look at this post full of avoidance and obfuscation! And they ask why we use hifalutin words

Final word: enjoy your path to liberation

- from the blog, pass the roti

Voices From the Community: Calcutta Pride

Dear Friends and Colleagues

Calcutta queer folks Rainbow Pride Walked again, and it was more special than before as our friends in Delhi and Bangalore joined us in simultaneous pride festivities. Added to that, there were friends from Gujarat (easily the most musical group of people!), Mumbai, Orissa and people visiting from the US and other places joining in.

Anis' baritone "We Shall Overcome" all through the walk would have woken up the Municipal Corporation officers had he used a microphone . . . and if Macaulay's spirit still hangs around in Calcutta (nor sure if he ever came here though), then the cries for packing off Section 377 would surely have made him catch the nearest barge on Hooghly to London. Yes, we know Section 377's meant to be read down, but ultimately it has to 1 2 3 4 - Section 377 No More, or Ek Do Teen Char, Band Karo Ye Atyachar. Keeping company to these slogans were beautifully done posters designed at an event as the first activity of the pride week.

The Calcutta march count numbers differ, ranging from 200-400, but what was special was the public meeting at the end of the walk opposite Metro Cinema in Esplanade. The walk route was a little empty, it being a late Sunday afternoon, but the evening crowd of nearly a 100 onlookers at Esplanade made up for that. Public speeches by activists and artists, personal narratives by people who've faced violence and have survived - it was amazing how nobody was shy of speaking their heart out to the public at large and the police force present there. Somebody quipped that the police were having a Sunday off as they probably have never seen a more emotional and yet disciplined lot of revellers and protestors! Some police officials said they were there to support us, so we shall see how true that is in days to come.

A sample of 15 interviews conducted by a TV channel journalist with onlookers lead to a surprising near 100% support for queer rights. That apart media interest was reasonably good with some channels beaming the walk live, and it was good that there were at least a few new situations that they covered. For instance, a gay walker and his brother who's not gay were interviewed together. I also found questions asked at a TV talk show later in the evening well thought out and with background research done. Newspaper interest was low, though e-zines seem to have already done a fair share of reporting.

Perhaps it was because other cities had joined in, but I've never had to talk so often about the 1st Friendship Walk in 1999 to so many people. Owais, Ranjan, Ashok, Nitin, Navarun and others, if you're reading this, I hope you remember what it was like to have walked the very first time in bright yellow t-shirts, visiting friends and detractors, and wading through knee deep blessings from the skies. Not so long ago and yet quite some time ago. And not the least being the cameo walk in the narrow lane outside George Bhawan (that room full of portraits of Indian freedom fighters juxtaposed with Stalin's kin) - to provide a photo op to the dozens of journalists gathered there :))

Two other special occasions during the week: Lighting candles in the rain at Kandapara in memory of friends we've lost to violence, HIV and abuse, and the lively panel discussion during the film screenings event on the 28th in Paribesh Bhawan - individuals among the 100 odd people talked just as well as the speakers and the most touching part being parents expressing support for a change in our laws.

There will be a review that will follow, and yes, I agree with some friends that in the 7th year we could have done much better in terms of walk discipline, slogans and media interaction. Actually I'm glad that some of us are more ambitious and that will hopefully pull us all up to do better. For instance, there was a Citizens Peace Initiative event on in the city at the same time as the Pride Week. Very pertinent for queer communities, and I hope we can interact with the organizers and request that a clash be avoided next year so that there can be greater cross participation, and so peace also gets a chance to spill over into the streets where many queer people are perhaps at their most vulnerable.

Having said that, I can say some of us tried hard to get in larger civil society participation but did not succeed very well. Perhaps we did not do it well, perhaps the people invited are yet to realize the value of pride activities because they have their own reservations to deal with. All said and done, I feel rejuvenated with this year's Pride Walk. That's also what the doctor ordered.

Looking forward to sharing of photos and reports from other cities, and the hearings against the Section 377 PIL in court in Delhi. I hope we've provided the right support to the action in court!!

Regards and best wishes
In pride and solidarity

Pawan Dhall
Calcutta, West Bengal

Voices From The Community: Celebrate Pride with Change

I can honestly admit that I probably have not gone through a lot of the torturous feelings other Queer Desis have gone through.

The pressures of the family.
The pressures of the community.
The pressures of what tradition teaches right and wrong.
The pressures of the almighty reputation.

A few weeks ago, I was watching a movie on TV called “Pink Ludoos”.
The movie revolves around a Punjabi-Canadian girl pregnant with triplets. Her mother overheard her (Gugan) talking to the father of her children, and confronts her about the situation.
The mother is forcing abortion on Gugan, and resultantly Gugan leaves home.
When Gugan was telling her sister about how she has the feeling that she wanted to change Indian culture to accommodate for her situation, it spoke a lot to me.

I feel that we are the generation to promote change.
Aren’t you tired of hearing the stories about Marriage of Convenience?
Can’t there be a way our generation can look past our tradition of judgements and reputation for each person to feel comfortable in their own environment?

It irks and disgruntles me to believe that people are living a lie.
I know their decisions to do so do not come out of vain, as they are protecting the people they love.
I just hope that we are able to end these unneeded pressures being inflicted from community to individual.

During Pride Week, I see the words of pride, the colours of hope, and that another year has ended where Queer people can live proud of who they are.
It’s like a Holi of sorts: only instead of coloured water, there are rainbows on flagpoles.
Instead of Indians in turbans dancing in Hindi movies, there are scantily-clad men in pink feather boas dancing on the streets.

When Pride festivals first started, it was very difficult to get the respect needed from our fellow human. Through time and consistent effort can we be out and proud in our communities. The same can go for the South Asian community. Change isn’t easy. It will take our strength to really be ourselves, and even the individual can change an opinion about the face of sexual minorities everywhere. I know through my truth, being myself, a Queer South Asian male; I can instigate change amongst conservative opinion.

I would like to wish everyone who reads this entry a Happy Pride.
I would like to wish you a good year to find your truth, and to find strength within that truth.
I would also like to instil the ideology that as being who you are, you can instigate change.

Change within your family’s thinking.
Change within your social groups’ ideologies.
Change within your greater community.
Change within yourself.

Change isn’t easy.
But change has to start somewhere.

Voices From the Community: Bangalore Pride

Bangalore folks were amazing. Let’s stay with that statement for a while.They were amazing. They had organized everything, but they made you feel like they were so happy and relieved you had come and so now everything was going to be fine! Airlineshotel is a usual hangout for the Good As You folks, but I do not know if the waiters and other customers are used to seeing men and women walking in and outin tshirts that say things like “God made me Gay.” Plenty of laughter andc amera-clicking followed as the new arrivals changed into these Pride clothes and tried the rainbow umbrellas and hats. Then, off to National College,Basavanagudi, from where the march would begin.

One corner of the college playgrounds turned into a carnival zone inless than half an hour. More and more people arrived; hugs and laughter ruled for a while. Painting of faces followed. Some people wondered aloud if they should wear the masks, or paint their faces, or just walk as they were. The decisions, I could see, were very important to all of us. Then the TV cameras arrived, with the reporters and cameramen looking with wide-eyed wonder at this psychedelic gathering of not just hijras, kothis, drag queens, sex workers, bisexuals,lesbians and gay men, but also our siblings, friends, and other allies. When the camera men went in circles, photographing and videoing non-stop, it felt like they just wanted to capture as much of it as they could, though I suspect they did not feel equal to the job. Yes, for some of them we could have been ‘freaks’ worth a few seconds of satellite time, but I am sure they were abit staggered by the enormousness of the ‘freakishness.’ Then the drummers arrived. And the dancing began. With their superb dancing, the hijras, kothis and drag queens declared the parade open.. When the drumming starts, something primal in me takes over. So, for me, what happened for the next few hours was basically a collective dancing to the destination. Not a bad way to travel, I tell you. There was an exorcising quality to it.

All placards went up. In English and Kannada. Everyone carried somethingor the other. There were slogans and songs. Whoever of Bangalore was on the roads that day slowed down or stopped altogether to watch this procession. On one hand, it must have looked like a protest march to them because there were placards up in the airand sloganeering voices too, but they must have also been equally struck, and hence a bit confused, by the revelry, the absolute celebration of something. And everyone loves to watch celebrations. If at all the child-like wonder of the onlookers’ faces changed to the way too grown-up-like grimness, we did not stay to watch the transformation that day. We kept moving on. That the most spontaneous response to happiness is happiness, testifies to what is natural and what is not. In a couple of hours, we reached the Puttanna Chetty Town Hall. People sat on the galleried steps leading up to the hall and gave life and colour to the place. Someone stood on the pedestal to the flagpole and held the rainbow flag there. Dancers stopped to catch their breath. Drummers took a couple of reluctant minutes to click their knuckles. Very short speeches happened. Then there was more dancing.

It was with great reluctance that we dispersed. But we knew we had to carry this joy of togetherness and supportinto our individual lives and make them easier, less lonely, and more hopeful. Thanks to everyone who had worked toput the Pride events together in Bangalore, Delhi and Kolkata. The specifics would have varied, but something tells me the spirit of them all was the same.

-from Aniruddhan Vasudevan's blog, How To Name It

Voices from the Community: Tall, Dark, and Handsome? Really?

Tall, Dark, and Handsome.
This sentence fragment has been stated so often it's now a cliché for the guy we all want. Apparently.
I don't really get it. I'm dark (naturally because I'm Indian) and handsome (again, naturally because I'm Indian); but does height really play a factor in those who find me attractive?

It's not that it was my choice to be short, you know. My parents have both succumb to the South Indian short gene. I was bound to be a shorter male.

Standing at 5'6", I always thought I was a comfortable height. I can reach for things on the shelf – mind you it's the lowest shelf but gosh darn-it it's still a shelf! I'm tall enough to not be considered a little person like the Roloffs and can get on most rides when the carnival comes to town.

But have you ever notice how regardless of our carnival-permitted heights, us short people don't earn the attention we would like?
I always found that I get the term 'cute' or 'adorable'. True, these are fantastic words, but where is those words tall guys get like 'hot' and 'rugged' and 'manly'.
When was the last time you've heard of a short man being 'manly'?
My point exactly.

According to recent statistics that I didn't make up, both men and women find that short people work harder at attracting others to prove themselves due to their 'physical handicap of being short'.
It's hard enough being Indian in the bar scene's racial hierarchy, and now I have to 'prove' myself because I'm short! Aah!

So where do us short men go? What do we do?
Do we wear elevator shoes?
Do we take hormone-injections approved by the government to get a few inches taller?
Do we work extremely hard so our achievements make up for our lack of height?

If there was a clear-cut answer, I'd like to hear it.
In lieu of it, I like to think of the positive side of being short:
We short men are said to be more reliable and depended upon.
We short men are more approachable.
We short men can buy clothes in the boys section and not be taxed (in Canada).
We short men are hugged more.
Mmm. Hugs.

We can pride ourselves with the famous short men that have walked among us:
Danny DeVito - Mark Wahlberg - Jason Alexander - Muggsy Bogues - Alfonso Ribeiro

They've turned out ok, eh?
No need for elevator shoes.
No need for injections.
No need to be an over-achiever (although if you're South Asian, it's either in your blood or you're pressured to do so).

To answer my first question – does height really play a factor in those who find me attractive – I hope it doesn't. I'm sure it doesn't.

I'm Indian; therefore I am handsome, charming, and witty.
I can tell a good prawn curry from a bad one, and will not be afraid to let you know about it. (And will furthermore judge you if you indeed produce a bad prawn curry).
I can go to the grocery store and calculate the inflation and tax on bananas in my head while at the check-out.
I'm a catch!

Therefore height doesn't really play a factor. It's all a state of mind.

The next time you hear a guy say they want someone Tall, Dark, and Handsome, they might be a little confused. Who knows? Perhaps what they really need is some S&M: Short and Male.

Voices From the Community: Coming out to parents

Being gay, Indian, and Catholic is not a nice combination. I'm from a place in India called Mangalore, where marriage is the most important thing in the world, with Uncle Wilfy's secret kulfi ice-cream running in a close second. For my parents, grandchildren are the ultimate 'sign' that God has blessed their lives. They already have 2, but for them that's only the start - we are 4 kids after all. But if I were to tell them that I don't want to get married (at least not in the traditional sense), that would be bad enough. But to top that by saying "I'm gay", really wouldn't help much. I guess I'm not so scared about what they will say or do, but I'm rather terrified about how this new found information will be used by people who catch wind of it. Gossip spreads quickly, and before you know it, we will be subjected to the knowing stares and whispers as we walk into the church compound. My mom's life especially hasn't been too great, and I really don't want to put her through the added agony of dealing with this. For me, I think I see coming out from a 'benefit' angle - i.e if I tell my parents I'm gay, what will they get out of it? As it stands, our live are pretty stable, and really I won't stand to gain anything out of telling them I'm gay (well apart from feeling much more relaxed and liberated). My friends tell me that sooner or later my parents are going to find out, and I totally agree with them, but for the moment I think we'll keep living in this plastic bubble of life.

-from the blog out in my head

Voices From the Community: Standing up to Society

I love a woman who used to be married. She is no longer married. She and I are together.

I make no apology for these simple facts, though I am sorry about certain things that have happened, certain hurt feelings that have occurred.

My partner was in a marriage that was very bad for her. She left that marriage honourably. Now both she and I are being painted as villains in the lives of people who made adult decisions and now refuse to take responsibility.

I require no apology for any of this. I wish it would stop. I wish people would take responsibility for their own part in a bad situation. I wish her husband would. I know her family does. I wish some of our friends would.

But people speak ill of each other. And people like to gossip. This is Pakistan. It happens. I am not particularly interested in explaining myself apologetically to anyone. I think that, on balance, if everyone takes responsibility for their own part, the discomfort and unhappiness left in the middle can be attributed to chance and circumstance. Shit happens. You live the best life you can.

Since the day-to-day drama and trauma of living toghether and coming out to her family has stopped, Lovely and I have been focusing on the future, and the happiness of the present. Today, friends asked us how we met, what went on, how we felt. And we couldn’t stop talking. Now that we’re home, Lovely has turned to me and said, “We’ve been keeping this in so long. We don’t talk about it. The more we talk, the sooner we’ll get over it.” And that’s really true. That’s why I haven’t written here in a while. One out of ten comments questions me and us, and I couldn’t handle that for a little bit. When you get questioned daily in your real life, your online existence needs to be rosier.

-From the blog Mera Terrha Pakistan

Voices From the Community: South Asian support groups

I’ve noticed that there are no support groups for South-Asians in Maryland.

I was talking to an elderly friend of my mother’s the other day. She is dealing with issues regarding her family life. She has a special needs child, and is having difficulty dealing with her teenage sons. Because she is an immigrant and has weak English skills, she is having a hard time dealing with many things. I’ve met many other women just like her over the years. And I’ve often wondered if a support group might help them.

These are traditional desi (South-Asian) women who would never want to attend an American support group, because they would feel that their needs would not be addressed.

What’s more unbelievable is that there are not a lot of South-Asian therapists in Maryland, either. And the few that exist don’t speak Hindi or Urdu.

I was talking to a friend of mine. She is one of the few desi therapists I know in the area. She was telling me that she wants to start a support group for South-Asians. Of course, I agreed with her that it’s definitely a good idea. I wish there was a group or an organization like that. Sometimes, I'm almost tempted to start such a group myself.

Of course, one of the challenges with such a group would be the Desi tendency of not wanting to air our "dirty laundry" in public, of not wanting to talk about our problems openly with "strangers."

-Anonymous
Maryland, USA

Voices From the Community: Inter/Intra-racial dating

Inter/Intra racial dating!

So today was one of those self-reflections days for me. I thought about everyone i dated and realized that everyone taught me a valuable lesson in life, whether they really wanted to or not. There are certain words that I can never erase from my memory, and I think they are meant to be that way because they truly opened my eyes to life.

And then i thought about culture. Its weird how you experience culture by being with someone of a different ethnicity. Its almost like you are part of a totally different atmosphere. Half of the time I didn't know what to do. The other half I was just trying to figure out what they were talking about. And i learnt that in order to date a mexican in california, you really got to know spanish. I think it will make life so much easier....

The weird thing about my life is that I went through phases. It started out with the "white phase" and then went into the "asian phase" and then to the "mexican phase", and to the "black phase" and now i am in the "indian phase". And i never even planned it out like that either...

But now that i am in my "indian phase" i realize how i have underestimated the power of cultural connection in a relationship. I am so used to giving a one hour explanation for every lil thing that i do or say. However, finding other brown gays and talkin to them, there is this extraordinarily amazing connection. Its like we have known each other for a lifetime and more.

Yet all in all, i think a good solid relationships still boils down to the person than his or her race. But I realize that maybe a lil cultural similarity can't do no harm.

-Jerome Atputhasingam
California, USA