女权在线－女权主义者的集结地

附原文：

When I was asked to write a brief article on being a British Born Chinese
lesbian I thought, “Great, fantastic, an opportunity to not only promote
the British Born Chinese Lesbian website, but also a chance to pen a
brilliant intellectual polemic about what it truly means to be a minority
within a minority within a minority”.  I planned to dazzle the readers with
facts and arguments galore, but then something stopped me.  My fingers froze
as I began to type and all I could think about was what happened to me
recently.  I came out to my mum.

So, I will do what countless other lesbian, bisexual and gay people have
done before and share with you my coming out story.  At first I was worried
about presenting this hackneyed and rather clichéd story, but then I
remembered that the majority of Coming Out stories are of the white western
lesbian, bisexual and gay experience.  So, for the first time, here is Amy
Cham’s guide on how to come out to your Chinese mother…

After many years of dropping giant sized hints to my mother (my favourites
are “This is OUR bedroom” and “Me and Kath want to spend Christmas ALONE
this year”), I decided that I had to take the proverbial bull by the horns
and officially Come Out to her.

Generally, I am known to be as ‘out’ there as you can be.  I have never
had any qualms or insecurities about my sexuality, and I even founded the
first website for UK Chinese lesbians.  However, I had never said the words
“I am a lesbian” to my mother.  I would argue that I had never truly
hidden it from her, she even once caught a TV interview I gave about lesbian
and gay issues…, only her English is virtually non-existent, so she
construed it to be merely about Chinese issues!

So, why have I never said it officially?  This is partly due to never having
had a particularly close relationship with my family.  As I grew up, my
parents tried to enforce traditional Chinese values and methods of
punishments.  As a consequence I rebelled and became more headstrong.
Linguistics posed another problem.  When I left home my Cantonese simply
deteriorated.  I had enough trouble ordering dim sum in a restaurant, let
alone knowing the Cantonese for ‘lesbian’.

So why now?  Well, I began to think that the whole situation was becoming
ridiculous. In every aspects of my life, I am completely confident with my
sexuality, so it was about time to say it officially (of course this thought
was backed with “She must know, surely[?]”).   Also, I wanted to show my
mother some publicity for my Artist in Residency at Manchester’s Chinese
Arts Centre - the problem was that it included the photo of me holding a
sign saying Chinese lesbian!

I reasoned that the best approach was to broach the subject in a casual
manner; my mother and I never have formal chats about personal issues, and
if we were to do so, the situation would be completely uncomfortable.

Fast-forward to me having dim sum with my brother and sister (who are aware
of my sexuality), and my mother.  I took a breath and casually handed over
the Chinese Arts Centre programme to her explaining that the details for my
residency were written within.  As she opened it I quickly excused myself
and, I have to admit quite cowardly, went to the bathroom!  I sat and after
a few “Hur hur hur breathe Amy” a couple of times, I ventured back to the
dinning room.

When I returned to my seat my mum was on the incriminating page; she closed
it, smiled and said “that’s really good isn’t it” and promptly returned
to her har kau.  Well, I was flummoxed!  How many hints did this woman need?
Was she really following the Chinese rule to the book and leaving the
unspoken as exactly that?  Or did she really not know?  I returned to my dim
sum for the time being!

A few hours later we were strolling around a shopping centre, I decided to
approach the subject again.  In hindsight, a crowded clothes shop was,
perhaps, not the most compassionate situation to press the point?  So as my
mum was ‘tutting’ and ‘ai-yaing’ about various items of clothing I asked
if she had noticed the picture in the programme and what the sign said.  She
gave me a blank look.

I persevered in, it has to be noted, extremely poor Cantonese;

“It says chinese lesbian…”

Another blank look.  Trust me; it was as painful as it sounds…

“Do you know what lesbian means?”

My mum tried to say it a couple of times until the penny dropped.

“Lesbi…oh…like gay lo?”

I nodded and pushed it further;

“Do you know why I’m holding the sign?”

By now the penny had well and truly dropped down to the bottom of the well
as she looked at me.

“What?  You’re trying to tell me you’re a lesbian?”

Finally!  And to this I could not help but reply with…

“Come on, you must have known!”  My mum then admitted that she had had an
idea.

There was a time when I still lived at home, whilst doing my laundry, she
came across a pair of trousers, adorned with red and rainbow ribbons (ah,
that obligatory coming out teenage stage!) which triggered her suspicions.
She also admitted that my hints had not gone entirely unnoticed and guessed
that the last “gwei loi” I lived with was my ex-partner.  This further led
to her acknowledgement that Kath was my current partner of 4 years. Talking
like this with my mother, whilst she was also pulling out garments and
tutting about what “gwei loi’s” wear in Britain these days, made the
scene both a relief and very surreal.

It was particularly amusing when inquiring whether she was okay she
responded;

“Well, you know that Chinese people don’t like it”.

This was like waving a red flag at me.  I never hold back from challenging
people’s assumptions and the fact that it was my mother made no difference.
I began by telling her about the British Born Chinese Lesbian website, all
the women I had encountered through the project, the friends I had made and
the research I had done.  I also argued that if the Chinese community did
not ‘approve’ of lesbian, bisexual and gay people then surely the Chinese
Arts Centre would not so willingly publish my work exploring Chinese lesbian
issues?  Between bouts of “Look how poorly made this is” and “How
 much?!”, she listened and conceded that I was, perhaps, right.

However, she added;

“Well, but that’s in the UK.  The Chinese here are different than back
home.  I mean Chinese people back in Hong Kong and China”.

Again the red flag; I explained about the plethora of support and resources
that I had come across in my research for Chinese lesbian, bisexual and gay
people in countries such as Hong Kong, China, Singapore and Taiwan.  We even
discussed Hong Kong celebrities who are rumoured to be lesbian, bisexual or
gay.  My mum finally conceded that, perhaps, attitudes are changing and that
to be a lesbian did not mean I was any less than normal.

After this my mum inquired after my partner Kath’s qualifications, and if
she had been to university.  This I saw to be a good sign, albeit surreal,
that my mother was checking out Kath’s credentials as her daughter’s
chosen partner!  The conversation ended with my mum saying that she was fine
with it and promptly led me to find my brother and sister.

I realise that for many Chinese lesbian, bisexual and gay people coming out
to their parents is perhaps a far more controversial and difficult
undertaking.   I understand from my discussions with fellow British Born
Chinese people that my parents were quite secular in their Chinese way of
bringing me up and maybe this was due to my refusal to adhere to traditional
Chinese values?  All I know is that my political awareness extends to every
part of my identity, and I firmly believe that people should live their
lives for themselves and not according to other people’s fears and
insecurities.  If any Chinese lesbian, bisexual or gay people do read this
article, then I hope they are assured that they are not “the only one” and
that they also feel just a little bit empowered…