I’m one of those lucky bastards that basically gets paid to be me.

When you work in a pre-dominantly Gay environment, you might hear the term “gay-for-pay,” a not so tongue-in-cheeky reference, some might protest. When you work in a pre-dominantly Asian environment, you might hear sayings like “we’re off to the rice fields” as folks head to the office. But, for those of us at the intersection, the best part of being Gay and Asian is that we have two ripe sources of self-deprecating humor; and that’s on top of, count ‘em, two months out of the year in which we can celebrate our pride as members of seemingly distinct and disparate communities: the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, Queer, and Intersex (LGBTQI) and the Asian Pacific Islander (API) communities. Put them together and you get an acronym that pretty much confounds anyone not in the know. That’s what I, Tawal Panyacosit Jr., get paid to do. My job and that of my organization, API Equality – Northern California, is to take the best of both these worlds and help build a stronger, more just, and equal society.

Like many Asian Americans, I am the child of immigrants. Growing up, my parents struggled unsuccessfully to open and sustain a restaurant in San Francisco. I remember helping out after school, loading and unloading the dishwasher, while trying to catch those in-between moments to finish my homework. After all, everyone was expected to pitch in; it’s just part and parcel of being in an Asian American family. Even today, as I write, it’s my turn to pick up my 2- and 4-year-old nieces from school and daycare.

Now, onto establishing my gay credentials. I can claim a little bit of the best and a little bit of the worst from the prototypical gay narrative. My father wasn’t the most tolerant of individuals. His favorite name for me growing up was “Gateuil,” a derogatory Thai slur that essentially encompasses all gender-nonconforming individuals, including Straight, Gay, and Trans folks. Sometimes, it was accompanied with a sneer or a blunt-shaped instrument.

Now, as to my mom, when I came out she cried and she worried. But, over the years, as she has come to ask more questions and to learn that my life is not quite so different from the one she originally envisioned, she has only demonstrated the meaning of love unconditional. My mother’s greatest lesson is that acceptance is a process; it requires openness and a willingness to learn. When I first discovered I was gay, it wasn’t always easy; it took time to figure out, to regain love for myself in a world that didn’t embrace me as I am. Just as LGBTQI folks must go through that process, so must our families and communities.

Family Values

In the API community, many would argue that family is everything. But too often, for gay Asian and Pacific Islanders, we feel we must choose. To come out and be gay, many feel the need to reject our Asian heritage because being gay in the Asian American community is not something ever remotely talked about. It’s taboo. Very taboo.

On the other hand, if we want to keep our families, we feel the need to deny our sexual orientation and take on a vow of silence. This isn’t always the case, but is a common enough truth for many Queer Asians.

In fact, as Queer APIs, we need to start coming out more, a lot more. In a recent statewide California poll, API respondents had 10%, 20%, even 30% lower rates of knowing a gay family member when compared to the other communities. This is a big problem. How can we, as gay people, expect our families to support us if we don’t let them know how to?

However, dialogue is reciprocal.

It’s not just Gay people who need to talk about being gay, but also Straight people who need to want to listen. Just like it’s not only People of Color who need to talk about racism, but also White people wanting to learn and share in making our world a better place for everyone. Lastly, it’s incumbent upon those of us at the intersections to take on that mantle of leadership and lead.

To succeed, our families and our communities, in all their dysfunctional identity-ridden glory, must be committed to both educating and learning, to bridging a world that embraces rather than silences its most marginalized members. We all need to make home feel like home and not a way station to someplace better.

I’m in. Are you?

Tawal Panyacosit Jr. is the Director of API Equality – Northern California. To learn more about API Equality – NC and our work, please go to www.apiequality.org.