 Rupert-Angus Mann talks to two gay Chinese men about life after the Games.
It’s a Saturday afternoon in Beijing. The Olympics are over, the world’s spotlight has moved on and the city breathes a collective sigh of relief. Many of the locals have fled to government run pools to escape the summer heat and amongst the revelers who splash around and enjoy the blue oasis are Xi, a 22-year-old student and Beijing local, and Gu, a forty-something IT professional originally from Guangzhou…
“So what did the Olympics do for LGBT China?” I ask, perched self-consciously by the pool’s edge, the only (pasty-white) foreigner in a sea of hundreds of naturally tanned Chinese.
“They brought people in China a chance to see the international world,” says Gu.
“Yeah,” Xi nods. “It’s given people here the chance to know how the rest of the world is.”
Since the reforms of Deng Xiaoping in the 1980s, China has been moving headlong towards acceptance in the club of world powers. Beijing 2008 was an important milestone. LGBT China hopes that the example of relatively liberalised nations such as Australia and New Zealand will affect the Chinese people and government as they become more open to change.
Yet Xi is perplexed when I ask what the day-to-day challenges are for him. “We are free to live our lives, really,” he says, turning for a moment after being splashed by an invisible foe. “As long as you don’t hurt anybody… this is the same for all Chinese.”
Freedom of expression and family ties are the two issues that really affect LGBT China. During the Olympics the government was so paranoid about them becoming a platform for disgruntled minorities that they forbade phrases such as “gay Olympian” in state-run media, along with “sync” after foreign media revealed the pretty little girl singing in the opening ceremony was a front for the true “buck-teethed” singer behind stage.
Matthew Mitcham was the only gay news of the Olympics, although it got limited coverage in the Chinese media. The story of the only openly gay male stealing gold from the Chinese in the 10m platform dive gave the exposure at home and abroad that LGBT China needed. On LGBT websites such as Aibai and Fridae people wrote comments such as, “winning glory for homosexuals (comrades) and add luster to prove that we are also great… champion!” and “Mathew Hero, the world will remember you comrade.”
“When I was growing up, being gay was illegal,” Gu points out, putting a paternal hand on Xi’s young shoulder. The arrests and executions of gay people during Mao’s era are yet to be erased by the passage of time. Today, homosexuality has been legal for just over a decade. “Places such as Destination simply couldn’t have existed before a few years ago,” Gu says, naming Beijing’s premier gay bar. Much of younger LGBT China is oblivious to this and Gu thinks that’s a good thing: “It means that real change is happening.”
For all the positive influences that exposure can have on the Chinese LGBT community, gay culture here is refreshingly different to the West and “should be preserved” suggests Gu. Unlike many Western countries, where a public show of same-sex affection can be met with jeers or even physical abuse, in China most people are far too polite and respect peoples’ privacy far too much to do any such thing. The gay people here are often quietly reserved and don’t broadcast their sexuality. “It doesn’t mean anything at all!” Xi tells me. “What’s it matter for anybody else, apart from my boyfriend?” One of the beautiful paradigms of Chinese culture is that although homosexuality is not officially fully tolerated or widely understood, it humbly exists with increasing visibility and average people don’t take it on themselves to tell others how to live.
Many in the Chinese LGBT community, such as Damien Lu of the Information Clearing House for Chinese Gay and Lesbians, are very weary of foreign imports. He tells MCV that fundamentalist Christianity and ex-gay ministries are amongst the most worrying prospects. The Confucianist and secular society of China had remained free of such ideas until groups like Focus on the Family, a US-based fundamentalist ministry began to operate in China. Under the insidiously Sinocized name Dr Du Busen, James Dobson, often aided by state run media, is preaching his harmful message. An anonymous comment on Fridae reads: “If I tell [my friends I am gay] then they will tell the fundamentalist leaders, organize deliverance meetings, casting out of demons.” Lu says these situations are damaging to the LGBT youth of China “who are discovering themselves and are seeking answers”.
Back at the pool, Xi makes a gracefully intended, but awkwardly executed, dive into the water after being called over by a passing flotilla of guys on inflatable rubber boats. As the sun sets, people peel themselves off the warm ground, collect their towels and head for home.
“What is the future for LGBT China?” I ask Gu. “Is it bright?”
“Ha ha!” he laughs. “Yes, it’s bright. You know China is always changing, maybe it takes a while but things will be better for us.”
For a country where being gay was a crime 10 years ago, to have such a vibrant and now famous LGBT scene is a big turn around. “After all,” laughs Gu, draped dramatically in his Chinese flag towel, “there are more comrades here than there are people in Australia. We will be fine!”
Rupert-Angus is a Melbourne-born writer, archaeologist and model who has been living in Beijing for the past year.
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What's next for gay China?
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