I was trying to get out of the Federal Highway that night. I was definitely not comfortable having over half a dozen motorbikes chasing after me. They were kicking my car as it slowly negotiated a temporary jam. Sensing danger I tried to call the police, but my hand phone fell and in the darkness my left hand frantically tried to find it. One of the riders then removed a helmet and crashed it against my door. I was a helpless tortoise target.

Then as the minor jam clears I saw a path to the expressway. I quickly turned into it. They were not supposed to be at the Federal Highway, they were supposed to be at their motorcycle lanes, I thought. But the police cannot stop these “rempit” menace, but then the police likes calling people like me a menace. I sped to the toll booth, and then enter the expressway. I ran at 170 kilometers an hour. The gang of motorcyclists soon vanished behind me. My car light was smashed. The right side of my car dented and there were scratches.

I was targeted by this group who kept on yelling derogatory names as I entered my car after dinner at an Indian-Muslim restaurant. I ignored them as I rushed in. They came with their bikes after me. I am a transsexual female. They are a transphobic motorbike gang. They have every intention of beating the hell out of me. If I died that night, police would just treat me as “john” doe. There would be no reports unless someone noticed I had gone missing and found my body. I may survive, but with an experience that will haunt me.

But I remember. And I am fortunate to still be alive to remember what happened. And I remember those who did not have this opportunity. Because they are dead. They are victims of hate crime and violence. Many have died, and many deaths go unreported because our lives are just not worth the time. But as we all grow and begin to show our faces to society, along with our lives and dreams, people will surely remember our lives.

And we will remember our dead. Today is the Trangender Day Of Remembrance 2008.

Tilted World, remembers.

Pictures from the San Jose March against 8

“We cannot defend freedom abroad by deserting it at home”	Love the captions: “Str8 against H8″, “HE created Adam & StEve” etc.
Her gay son was killed in 9/11 but she had nothing but a message of love and peace	Crowd listened attentively to the speakers

At approximately 9pm, the documentary by Poh Si Teng entitled “Pecah Lobang”, was finally aired at the studio within the Annexe Gallery at Central Market, during the Freedom Film Fest last Saturday. Touching mostly on the life and times of Muslim transsexual sex workers at the Chow Kit area, it drawn a crowd of 200 plus people inside. Besides the cast and crew of the documentary, notable attendees include members of the Legal Aids Centre, the PT Foundation crew including trans activist Ms Sulatri Ariffin and a surprise visitor who is a renowned transsexual advocate from Singapore, Ms Leona Lo.

The documentary as we have known, focused on the life of transsexual and sex worker Natasha, and other transsexuals’ turbulent living environment. The failed job hunts, family rejection and society’s ill-treatment of transsexuals was implied within the documentary as been caused by the ban on sex change surgeries in the early 1980’s upon the release of a “fatwa”. It displayed several verses from the Quran that were used to condemn transsexuals, and several profiled cases of transsexual discrimination. It also featured thoughts from several notable personalities including Dr Teh Yik Koon and Ms Sulastri Ariffin.

While the whole documentary was well meant to highlight the plight of the transsexual sex workers of Chow Kit, I felt I was watching somewhat a docu-movie prequel to the movie “Bukak Api”, which also outlined the problems faced by the transsexual sex workers community. “Pecah Lobang” went straight into several strong comments in defense of transsexuals and their lives, to touching overtures of statements that seemed to be asking for empathy from the audience. And it sadly played to stereotypes.

For instance, the continuous notion replayed throughout this documentary (it may be accidental) that transsexuals are prone to sex work, and on the streets even. It takes for granted that there is a community of transsexual sex workers that are not plying their trade on the streets, but as call girls in international escort websites, where the big cash is from the expats and foreign visitors. Also, there was a total lack of healthy transsexual role models shown, which would have placed a balanced positive view on transsexuals.

Also missing, was the lack of clarity on what is a transsexual with a transvestite, both under the umbrella term of transgender, as a segment focused on the recent case of transgenders arrested in Kelantan who were involved at a beauty pageant. I find it very unfortunate that the causes of transsexuality, from the chromosomal, biological and psychological circumstances especially recent research on the neuron count within limbic nucleus of the brain of transsexuals, were never mentioned. Instead the documentary presented viewers with the overused “they are human beings, they do not choose this life” mantra.

As for the reference of the religion of Islam used to create an atmosphere of rejection towards transsexuals, I respectfully disagree to some level. It is the cultural upbringing of the members of society that failed to distinguish gender from sex, along with the media toying with mak nyahs as jokes and comedy, as was seen in TV shows such as “Scenario”. Last month, “Gerak Khas” on RTM depicted transsexuals as sexed-up, campy and ill-mannered, while being a sex workers and also a drug pushers. It is these misrepresentations by the media that causes untrained minds to validate their prejudices.

And it is by these ill-founded dogmas that people resort to use religion as justifications for their bigotry against transsexuals and this not only includes Islam, but also Christianity. “Pecah Lobang” highlights only a fragment of the community; but other transsexuals, those who are well-adjusted in society to those who are struggling not to fall down the sex work trap hole, may feel themselves stigmatized by a public labeling all transsexuals as sex-workers. Perception is a dangerous element; as well intentioned this documentary is, it may infringe the safe space of transsexuals who do not wish for sex work.

During the comments session after the viewing of “Pecah Lobang”, I was disappointed with some of the members of the audience who seemingly questioned Ms Poh Si Teng for doing the movie in the guise of “well-mannered talk”. One question that came to mind was whether she is using the movie in a way of promoting human rights as to making the wrong, right. I would have told the gentleman, there is nothing wrong with simply existing without harming others. These were also other questions Ms Teng seemed to have difficulty in answering, which explains the countless “I do not know”’s she used.

It would note however, with all of this film’s shortcomings, I believe Ms Teng was very courageous to go out on her own way to do this movie. She had said that she is not a filmaker, rather a journalist, so I do admit I am sad that the issue of transsexuals was poorly researched by her. But this could be a good starting point for more openness in talks about transsexuals, and Ms Teng at 24, will learn in time. As a member of the Legal Aids Centre commented, she only scratched the surface of the transsexuality issues. But, this could be a start of more things to come, positive ones hopefully, for our community.

It happens to the best of us. Sometimes, our feelings get in the way of our logic and we start falling for the people closest to us - people whom we love with all our heart and soul, yet know may never reciprocate our love despite all we’ve been through together. The straight people. Your best friend. Your colleague. Your college mate. You know that although you share a common bond, your sexuality is different and vastly separate than that of theirs - and for fear of rejection, you hide the truth.

Perhaps it will go away, you think. Perhaps, it’s just a crush - a phase. Perhaps he / she won’t ever have to know that I’m in love with him / her but unknowingly, having spent enough time in their company - your attraction culminates to a point where you simply cannot have it be a secret anymore.

You reveal it.

It is a true test of friendship. Some of us are rejected cruelly. Others are let down gently, their friendship never faltering - but falling for the straight people teaches us that humans feel deeply for others, irregardless of sexuality - and some understand it enough to let you protect your emotions as a friend, while others are blinded by stereotype and paranoia that they avoid socializing with a gay person for fear of inevitably catching some sort of a virus, or even worse - be branded gay as well.

It’s the way the humans work: we reject those we do not understand.

For me, I understand what it’s like to be on the end of the rejected - having been on the receiving end of cruel cold rejection before and I understand exactly what it is like to be on one end of the spectrum only to see the man I love on the other end; knowing that we can never be together. That doesn’t stop me from loving him however, and six years on - I still do. He was my first love, and although it never worked out - somewhere in the back of my memory, I still remember who and what he was to me as if it was yesterday.

This is my story.

I was sixteen then, and it was February 2002 and Mattheu had just returned to the country, having spent the last few years in the United States. We were in the same class, but never talked until one day - by accident, my pants caught on a nail, tore open a gaping hole and I became the laughing stock of the class. But Mattheu, unlike the others didn’t laugh - instead, he fetched a needle and thread from the teacher’s office, brought it back and helped me sew my the tear. And that was when I first met him.

We became good friends. Months on, Mattheu and I spent long hours together - games was the common ground between us, and he taught me to love basketball, speak in a wild unknown lingo, and dance. There were some laughs, and some great moments together - and two long years had passed, I fell for him.

I suppose it was because he seemed much more older; and there was a tone of maturity in his voice. He was cute in the way he acted, he was well-built and smelled good and the American accent he had on him was wickedly attractive.

One day during a sleepover at his place, I lost my senses: I kissed Mattheu.

We were at his grandmother’s house then, it was two days after Eid and he had lost his grandmother a few days ago. Caught us by shock it did; we woke up one morning to find a commotion: his grandmother had collapsed in the bathroom and had fallen into a coma. Three hours later, she had passed on in the early hours of the morning and a funeral was immediately held to whatever relatives and friends were present and available at the moment.

As Mattheu grieved over the loss of his grandmother, I felt the kiss was a comfort to him - or as much as I thought of it as comfort in the darkest times. But when he awoke to the peck on his forehead, he turned aside in another turmoil to the sudden realization that his best friend was gay.

Telling his parents about the kiss, they told him to stay away from me - and after I got back from his kampung; was the last I heard of him. Three days later however, when I was visiting a friend’s house - he showed up, much to my surprise when he said he wouldn’t be coming back anytime in the next two weeks.

Words were exchanged over the dinner table that evening, and Mattheu told me the true reason of why he stayed away. He could not accept the fact that I was gay, and when I admitted to the kiss and my sexuality - our friends supported him; not one interested in what I had to say about the nature of the kiss. It was at that brief moment that I felt the strongest pain in my heart, and realized that I had lost a friendship, breached it with a forbidden love; my love unrequited.

Five years later, I am still battling the memory of the things I did and the friendships I botched up, as well as the misunderstandings between the both of us and the lack of honesty we could’ve given. And I can still remember Mattheu telling me that we were two world’s apart - two cultures different, and that he could never understand the kiss I gave him, even if it was on the forehead. Sometimes I do even still feel the burning sensation of the loneliness and the long periods of silence without his company and how much I remembered - that that was the time I most wanted to curl up in a hole six feet under, and die.

Still I love him very much, and even though we could never have been together. But despite the age-old gay warning, telling us to “not fall for the straight people” - perhaps if there were less prejudice and more understanding, we would all respect each other as humans better.

Growing up as a gay male wasn’t always a terrible thing for me. The only struggle I ever faced was the fight within my own frame of mind. No one was bothered about who I liked (sexually) or whether I was straight (or not). Occasionally, in my teens and even in my early adulthood, people would ask me the “are you gay?” question – a question I always brilliantly found a way to answer with another question, leaving everyone even more curious. I always answered in a manner that would not arouse suspicion. I guess that was how I allowed people to just ignore who I am and let me live how I want.

The excitement in my life came when I started trying to ignore my homosexuality. I remind myself of those people we sometimes contentiously call “ex-gays” – gays who don’t want to be gay. I went through that phase for a while. I blame it on the warnings I got from “biblical prohibition” on gay behavior. I come from a somewhat liberal yet devoted Christian family. It haunted me. It made me shy away from accepting who I really was, until I realized one day that religion should help people accept themselves,and not doubt whoever and whatever they are.

I was one of those who got influenced for a while with the whole concept of heteronormativity. Deep inside I knew I was gay, but at times I had to conform to the things that were deemed acceptable socially. It caused me to feel uncomfortable sometimes, but it certainly made me stronger, eventually.

I struggled for a while. I wanted to be myself and totally let go, but I couldn’t. I wanted to love freely, but I was afraid of what would happen.

Then things turned around when I attended a talk in some church. A question on homosexuality was posed. I turned from a sleepy participant to one wide awake, eager to hear how the speaker, an old priest, was going to answer the question: “Is homosexuality something really that unacceptable?”

I smiled. Finally… something interesting.

The reply from the priest shocked me. This old, mumbly priest replied with a very sweet smile:
“Look at it this way – love is love. Sometimes homosexuals can show a kind of love that is even purer than the kind of love straight people have. Straight couples fight and quarrel. So do homosexuals. Love is love; who is to say who you can or cannot fall in love with? Sometimes homosexuals can teach us a thing or two about love, because they may sometimes be more affectionate than the rest of us.”

I almost wanted to shout a loud “Amen!” but thought I’d just keep to myself.

Love is love. Who in the world has the right to tell you what kind of person you must fall in love with?

I began to love myself more. And because of that, I can express my love outwardly better. Love is love.

You see, even though homosexuals suffer from derisive jokes and have to endure annoying labels of all sorts, we do know what love feels like. Being gay is just another way of being.

I am currently in a happy, committed and fulfilling relationship with a person of the same sex. However, this person is neither a homosexual nor a bisexual. Or rather, this person is strictly heterosexual. If you are puzzled, then read on. 

I assume that you are probably one of many, many people who assume that one is only capable of falling in love with persons of the sex you are attracted to. I also assume that you probably also assume that the sexual orientation of a person can be determined by the sex of the person he/she falls in love with. Underlying these assumptions is another assumption: that sexual attraction is one of the indispensable prerequisites for love.

I beg to differ.

Sexual orientation is only but the categorization of which sex you are physically and sexually attracted to, and nothing more than that.

Falling in love is, on the other hand, a yearning to spend your life with a person, believing that that person is the most wonderful human in the world, and loving that person unconditionally for who that person is. Love does not give a damn about your dress size or your football club affliation, whether you are white, black or polka dot, which set of reproductive organs you possess or even if you possess any at all. Love is blind as a bat.  

Most of us probably come across many people whom we find sexually attractive in our daily life. That dashing captain of your school’s football team. That vivacious lady who works in the human resource department in your company. We do not, however, always find ourselves falling head over heels in love with these people in the purest sense.

We do, on the other hand, often fall in love with people whom we would not have considered as sexually attractive in a platonic relationship. Thus, we fall in love with people with bulging beer bellies, people who are mentally handicapped, people with a disastrous fashion sense, people who are significantly older etc. And yes, people whose anatomical make-up we may not be naturally inclined to desire. (Or even people whose anatomy may not be complete at all due to cancer, physical handicap, accidents etc) Yes, we are capable of falling in love with people who may be sexually very unattractive.

Thus, even though I am not naturally inclined to be sexually attracted to males, that does not mean that falling in love with a boy is an absolute impossibility for me. I may not be physically attracted to persons of his sex, but I am very capable of falling in love with people who are unique, mature, sincere, caring and intelligent, regardless of their sex. I cannot automatically love someone just because I am physically attracted to that person. I can, however, find someone physically attractive because I love that person.

Gay rights activists and those who condemn homosexuality like to bicker over whether sexual orientation is fixed or malleable. While the fact remains that sexual orientation is shaped by both biological and social forces, and that it is neither determined by fate nor changeable at will, gay rights activists almost always only stress on the former and their adversaries, the latter. At times, both sides argue so well that we are led to believe that if sexual orientation is “proven” to be fixed, then it is assured that one is incapable of falling in love with a person whose sex is counterintuitive to his/her sexual orientation. They devote so much effort to debating whether homosexuality is “natural” and legitimate, that they miss the more important issue of So What If It Is Not Natural? So What if I am a heterosexual but I choose to fall in love with a person of the same sex? And so what if I am a homosexual but I choose to fall in love with a person of the opposite sex? Is it not a very natural thing to fall in love?  

If I had believed that sexual attraction is the sole basis for falling in love with someone, then I would have given up all hope of pursuing that girl whom I fell in love with who happens to be heterosexual. But I did not. And now I am so glad I did not.

The girl whom I fell in loved with, is very pretty, but I fell in love with her for so many reasons other than her physical beauty, for the qualities in her which are eternal, for the beauty in her which only the heart can see. And because I love her, she becomes stunningly beautiful in my eyes.

Yong Wei is still a teenager. She would like to be idealistic and optimistic about life and love without being accused of naivete while she is still allowed to do so.