From Saigon to San Francisco:
Two Journeys
By Ron Nieberding
Cultural values present unexpected obstacles for gay and lesbian Asians and Pacific Islanders struggling to come out and create satisfying relationships
In 1988, Tony Nguyen co-founded of one of the first LGBT Vietnamese groups in the United States and has been attending or facilitating discussion groups for LGBT immigrants ever since. Currently, he coordinates HIV/STD-prevention programs for gay and bisexual men at Asian and Pacific Islander Wellness Center, helping young Vietnamese and other immigrant and refugee gay men with coming out, culture shock and developing healthy self-esteem.
 Lam Tran performs at LGBT Pride |
When Tony and his friends in the discussion group first came to the U.S. in the 1980s, the top priority was learning how to survive. Coming-out issues eventually surfaced in their discussions and only later did they begin to deal with dating. Tony recalled his own coming-out experience: "My first contact with the gay community was going to the bars on Stockton Street in San Jose after seeing an ad in the local newspaper. When I walked in, I saw that I was the only Asian. I felt that I belonged, but I didn't know how to fit in ." Tony explained that 10 years ago many of his Vietnamese gay friends didn't want to date other Asian men: "It was easier to talk about being gay in English than in Vietnamese. We didn't even have an affirming word for 'gay' or 'homosexual' in Vietnamese, just negative terms." But more important was the issue of shame. It would be too uncomfortable to talk about gay sex with someone else who was also Vietnamese. "Shame is used in Asian and Pacific Islander cultures to remind individuals of their obligation to their families and their communities. Saving face means acting in ways that support family and social values and structures," Daniel D. Yu, MSW, explains.
But things have changed. "Asian guys are more comfortable now dating other Asian guys." Tony observes a generational shift. Last year he was invited to Vietnam as part of a team of trainers organized by University of California San Francisco's Center for AIDS Prevention Studies (CAPS), visiting a hospital for sexually transmitted diseases in Ho Chi Minh City (formerly Saigon): "I was amazed. Things were so different. There were gay bars and clubs and people were more comfortable being gay. My brother, like other Vietnamese refugees, came to the United States in 1980 and it's like his attitudes are frozen in the past. My sister came here from Vietnam a year ago and she is very accepting not only of gay life, but of other things as well."
Lam Tran is a peer leader who helps Tony do outreach at Club Asia, the N'Touch and the Vietnamese Tet Festival. He appeared on last year's Asian and Pacific Islander Stage at LGBT Pride as part of the Vietnamese group Ha Cam Tu, which performed the dance number "Saigon." "He is part of the new generation," Tony observes.
Lam was born in Saigon in 1975, one month before the Vietnam War ended. His father was jailed by the Communist government for six years because he had worked for the U.S. Army. "Things were very difficult. They took everything. We were very poor." His family was harassed and his mother had difficulty feeding the family, so she remarried. "My mother didn't know how to survive while my father was in jail," he explained. Even though Lam's new stepfather helped put food on the table, his mother's conservative Catholic family disowned her for remarrying.
While growing up in Vietnam, Lam learned not to show emotions. "We had no food, no rice. We just drank water. You just focus on how to survive--not on your emotions or feelings." When he was 17, Lam realized that he was attracted to men. "I was completely scared, so scared. In Vietnam it was really bad. If you acted gay or like a woman they teased you. It was really painful." In school the word "gay" wasn't known. Instead the French word "pede" was used derogatorily for men who looked or acted feminine. However, Lam never felt he had to be "pede" to have a relationship with another man.
At 19, Lam won a scholarship to visit a university in Singapore for two weeks. On his return, Lam met his first boyfriend while waiting in the airport. Ironically, they were speaking English and Lam assumed that he was Chinese since the man never told him he was a Vietnamese government official. The older man had given him a fake phone number so Lam had to wait four months before he called. "He was the first I ever had sex with." The older man lived in the North while Lam lived in the South, so over the next year they saw each other only about twice a month. "I found out he had a wife and I decided that I couldn't deal with that," Lam says. Five years later, Lam still has feelings for the man, but is no longer in love.
An architecture student at the university, Lam won a competition and was one of two students selected to study in the U.S. The first time Lam went to a gay bar was the day before he left. Raised Catholic, Lam believed that he had to be a "good boy" and study hard since he was the only one able to study at the university. He dated a woman for three years. She got married a year ago and Lam called her the day before her wedding to tell her that he was gay. "I realized she had the right to know." Indeed, she had suspected.
While in Vietnam Lam did have two gay friends. None of them went to clubs or socialized much because they were afraid of raising suspicions. Lam's mother was educated in a French school and was more Westernized than many of his neighbors. But family reputation was still very important and he was terrified that people might discover that he was gay.
When Lam first arrived in the U.S., he lived in Florida for a few months with a family from his old neighborhood in Vietnam. "They were very conservative. I knew I couldn't live there because I was gay." So, at age 23, Lam arrived in San Francisco, where he has lived for the past two years. "It was very difficult for me here because I didn't know anyone," he explained. He was lucky. A man named Michael heard him speaking Vietnamese on the bus and befriended him. Michael took him to a hair salon on Larkin Street and introduced him to Andrew and Ryan, a gay Vietnamese couple who had been together for 10 years. Lam lived with them for seven months and they helped him find a job and go to school to improve his English.
One night Lam and a friend went to the N'Touch, a club on Polk Street that is popular with queer Asians and Pacific Islanders. Lam noticed a cute guy who he assumed was Chinese and started talking in Vietnamese with his friend about how he was attracted to the guy and wanted to meet him. A few weeks later the guy introduced himself to Lam at the gym. His name was Huy and he had come to the U.S. at age 10 as a refugee from Vietnam the day that Saigon fell to the Communists. He had understood Lam talking with his friend. They started dating and after a few months began living together.
While Lam is open to dating all types of guys, he has never dated anyone who grew up in the U.S.--white, Latino, African American or Asian. He prefers dating a Vietnamese guy like himself. "He understands the culture and how difficult it was to grow up in Vietnam. It's easier to communicate in Vietnamese." Lam also feels that money issues are a very sensitive topic for Americans. His experience is that money isn't very important in Vietnamese relationships. "As long as you are faithful with love" the rest is simple, Lam explains. His boyfriend was educated in English and it is the language he uses most often. However, Huy's father was a teacher in Vietnam and made sure that Huy was fluent in Vietnamese. "When Huy wrote his first letter to me in Vietnamese, I was surprised how good it was!"
When Lam goes with his friends to clubs like Universe, he is uncomfortable with how he is treated. He feels that many Asian gay men don't give equal time to their Asian and Pacific Islander brothers. He adds, "White guys look down on Asians as feminine and assume we are all bottoms." Lam believes that many white gay men feel it is too much work to date an immigrant Asian man. "They don't want to take the time to learn. I don't want a sugar daddy. I want my partner to be equal."
This article first appeared in
San Francisco Frontiers Newsmagazine
special issue
Asian Pacific Islanders Make Their Mark
on Queer Culture published on
March 22, 2001
(Volume 18, Issue 24)