Queer people have valuable perspectives that bring to light the complexity of the social categories we have constructed that mark bodies according to race, ethnicity, gender, and sexuality. The current fight is about power and sovereignty over our own bodies. I believe that breaking down the categories and labels on our bodies is the key to building a more peaceful and inclusive world. I hope this story illuminates how people with particular markers on their body (e.g., race and gender) and constraints on what they do with their body (e.g., sexuality) live lives of fear and oppression and hiding, but also of incredible courage, triumph, hope, and LOVE.
“You are so beautiful,” she said as she took a long drag of her cigarette and blew the smoke up towards the ceiling. She wore a black and white tuxedo tailored to her short and thick frame. Her hair was shaved in the back and sides covered by a bowl cut on top. She had one black stud in her left ear. The rotating strobe lights illuminated the blue mascara on her eyelashes.
The air hovered thick with smoke. I blinked through the haze as my brain swam and the room tilted.
A piece of me cringed internally at her accented English as the awkwardness of the sounds and syllables formed against her untrained mouth. I hated myself for my judgement as so many others had been patient with me as I learned foreign languages. “Be nice,” I told myself silently.
I let out an awkward smile as I felt my eyes crinkle a little too much, and my lips stretched artificially to show my teeth. I diverted my eyes to anything else in the room, avoiding eye contact with her.
I didn’t respond.
“You can call me Li Tian,”[1] she said with her hand outstretched. It was Spring 2017. Li Tian and I were celebrating hard at a lesbian commitment ceremony in Far West China. She was the “best man” at that day’s wedding between two of her best friends from college.
In the midst of disco ball lights and the pounding vibrations of K-pop, my attention was then quickly diverted to a girl with red lipstick who stumbled toward me, and feeling my boobs, asked me through slurred giggles, “Are you a man or a woman?” My hair was shaved on the sides and back. I’m tall compared to Chinese girls; my arms muscular, my boobs small. I’m used to this question. Still, my heart dropped into my stomach. I said with a forced chuckle, “I’m a girl.”
Before I left, Li Tian asked to exchange numbers.
“I would love to learn English from you,” she said to me in Chinese. I reluctantly agreed.
While I was outside the bar waiting for a taxi, she grabbed my hand and reached up to kiss me. I kissed her back, the alcohol on her breath and lips pungent. The bitterness from the beer tasted sharp and yet sweet. Then, she shoved her tongue into my mouth. I broke off and backed away, chuckling awkwardly.
“I like you,” she said in English.
“Oh.”
“I mean, I really like you,” she said again in English.
“That’s cool,” I said.
“Maybe we can see each other tomorrow?” she said as she switched back to Chinese.
“Okay.”
“I’ll call you when I'm done with work,” she said.
The next morning, I woke up wondering which parts of the night before were a dream and which parts were reality. I saw that she had texted me: “Sarah, I really like you. I hope that someday we can say I love you to each other. You are so beautiful [red heart emoticons].”
“What have I gotten myself into?” I shook my head. I was leaving China in five months. I didn’t have time for this. I deleted the text immediately and didn’t respond to it.
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