Join us on the G3S discord! 

Gay Asians are a “double minority” in western countries, and for most of us, gay clubs and dating apps are the most accessible means of meeting other queer Asians. Unfortunately, the highly sexualized nature of these two venues can emphasize objectification and reinforce sexual hierarchies at the expense of more meaningful and longer-lasting connections. In light of this, G3S (Gaysian Third Space) was created to provide an Gaysians a third, alternative space in which to meet other Gaysians, virtually and face-to-face, in a more positive and supportive environment. The G3S discord is one of the forums created in furtherance of this mission!

Scan the QR code in the image or use this link (https://discord.gg/eKnVJQK) to join.

I wanted to share something. I don’t speak often of my personal life on this specific blog, but one aspect of Tumblr of which I’m so very grateful is the ability to forge community bonds and friendships with like-minded individuals and people of backgrounds similar to my own.

As a gay Asian man (affectionately termed “gaysian” by some), I’ve been fortunate to use Tumblr as a writing outlet, sharing my own experiences and finding common threads with individuals around the world. Out of this endeavor, I’ve become acquainted with two projects that attempt to create communities of gay Asian individuals and to spotlight their stories. 

GaysianThirdSpace (a.k.a. G3S)

Gay Asian and Pacific Islanders (gaysians) represent a unique “double minority” population in many western countries - we are not only a minority in ethnic background but also in sexual orientation. Growing up and dealing with both institutionalized discrimination and the stigma against homosexuality can be an incredibly challenging and isolating experience. Unlike many of our friends who do not share the same minority status, many gaysians lack proper role models to learn from at a critical time during the development of their self-identities. In fact, for the vast majority, our first contact with other gaysians and gay social groups are facilitated through dating apps and the clubbing/raving scenes . Yet too often, the apps and gay bars are platforms that prioritize physical beauty, instant gratification, objectification, and sexual prowess at the expense of more meaningful connections.

In light of this reality, we decided to create the Gaysian Third Space, an alternative global platform for individuals looking for Community. A Community that is a safe and supportive environment where members encourage each other to grow and mature as they explore their identity. A Community where we can share our stories and struggles on coming out, family, school/career, romance, body image, and relationships that perhaps only other gaysians can understand. A Community that gives voice to the “double minority” on timely issues because our perspective is valid and deserves to be heard. That is our vision for Gaysian Third Space.

Gaysian Diaries

In a social setting, it can be hard to open up about personal issues. I wanted to create a space where we can let our walls down and share each other’s experiences. If my story reaches even one person out there and makes them feel less alone, then I don’t regret telling this story.

I invite you all to share your stories as well. As queer and transgender API’s, our stories are largely invisible to mainstream media, online content, and even our personal conversations. We all have so many stories to share that are unique to us as individuals but still relatable to the entire community.

G3S’s gaysian movie night of Wish You will begin momentarily.

Theme: G3S Virtual Discussion: Resilience During the Pandemic  Time: Jul 23, 2020 06:00 PM Pacific Time (US and Canada) Where: Zoom Virtual Link

Find more information on our facebook group and/or the line group for the link and password.

“Being known as the ‘gay’ chef doesn’t bother me, but that’s just me. I’m not one to hide,” says [Yukiya] Terai, whose good looks and public profile have made him a celebrity in his own right. However, he says coming out isn’t always the answer, and the hidden suffering of people constrained from being their true selves by Japan’s conservative, gay-shaming culture must not be ignored.

“It’s up to that person. If you haven’t accepted your sexuality or have negative feelings about it, others will sense that and it will make them uncomfortable,” he says. “It’s the same with cooking. The more confident you are with the food you make, the better it tastes.”

Despite having an upcoming second [recipe] book and plans to open a restaurant, he still just cooks out of his average-sized kitchen in a single-family home. There, the culinary mastermind lives with his partner, photographer Tsukasa Nakagawa, and his mother, who he has dubbed his assistant.

Terai and Nakagawa were one of the first seven couples who received same-sex partner certificates from Tokyo’s Setagaya Ward in November 2015, part of a groundbreaking moment in Japan after neighboring Shibuya Ward enacted its ordinance on same-sex partnerships in March the same year.

While Terai’s mother said she “knew it” when he came out, the reaction Nakagawa got from his parents was more or less what he had expected, reminding him why he had kept them in the dark for so long.

“They rejected us because they didn’t know. It’s not just LGBTs, people don’t like what’s foreign to them. You have to make an effort to get those people to understand,” Terai explains. “If, after they get it, they say ‘no thanks,’ that’s OK. But I can’t stand people who say ‘no’ without knowing.”

Once the shock was behind Nakagawa’s parents, the couple walked them through the process of understanding LGBT culture, answering their initial questions, such as whether their son wears women’s clothes.

The revelation of their son’s same-sex attraction brought the family closer and, fortunately, things took a turn for the better. Now the parents are pleased to see how their “sons” are bringing about social change on a national scale.

H Mart is freedom from the single-aisle “ethnic” section in regular grocery stores. They don’t prop Goya beans next to bottles of sriracha here. Instead, you’ll likely find me crying by the banchan refrigerators, remembering the taste of my mom’s soy-sauce eggs and cold radish soup. Or in the freezer section, holding a stack of dumpling skins, thinking of all the hours that Mom and I spent at the kitchen table folding minced pork and chives into the thin dough. Sobbing near the dry goods, asking myself, “Am I even Korean anymore if there’s no one left in my life to call and ask which brand of seaweed we used to buy?”

My grief comes in waves and is usually triggered by something arbitrary. I can tell you with a straight face what it was like watching my mom’s hair fall out in the bathtub, or about the five weeks I spent sleeping in hospitals, but catch me at H Mart when some kid runs up double-fisting plastic sleeves of ppeong-twigi and I’ll just lose it. Those little rice-cake Frisbees were my childhood: a happier time, when Mom was there and we’d crunch away on the Styrofoam-like disks after school. Eating them was like splitting a packing peanut that dissolved like sugar on your tongue.

Lately, my local H Mart is in Cheltenham, a town northeast of Philadelphia. My routine is to drive in for lunch on the weekends, stock up on groceries for the week, and cook something for dinner with whatever fresh bounty inspired me. The H Mart in Cheltenham has two stories; the grocery is on the first floor and the food court is above it. Upstairs, there is an array of stalls for different kinds of food.

I wonder how many people at H Mart miss their families. How many are thinking of them as they bring their trays back from the different stalls. Whether they’re eating to feel connected, to celebrate these people through food. Which ones weren’t able to fly back home this year, or for the past ten years? Which ones are like me, missing the people who are gone from their lives forever?

It’s a beautiful, holy place. A cafeteria full of people from all over the world who have been displaced in a foreign country, each with a different history. Where did they come from and how far did they travel? Why are they all here? To find the galangal no American supermarket stocks to make the Indonesian curry that their father loves? To buy the rice cakes to celebrate Jesa and honor the anniversary of their loved one’s passing? To satisfy a craving for tteokbokki on a rainy day? Were they moved by a memory of some drunken, late-night snack under a pojangmacha tent in Incheon?