Yeh yung chih and gay

Strings of red chili peppers hung off exposed pipes from the stickered DJ booth in the back to the open entrance in front. Was this an inside joke between the organizers? Earlier, over wine and repeated scoops of peach ice cream, I exchanged music video recommendations with three new friends in their shared apartment: an American and two Taiwanese something-year-olds.

Breaking through the trance was that familiar phrase, repeated over and again by the two Taiwanese roommates, as had happened the four other times I had seen these videos in bars and stores across Taipei last month:. So spicy. He got up midway through the final video to get dressed for the party, reemerging every few moments to adjust his silver corset, yeh yung chih and gay laced in the back.

In the backdrop of an island nation solidifying its sense of self against geopolitical tension and a palimpsest-like history of diverse influences, I, too, am finding comfort in this collective process of self-discovery. When I order food over the soft sizzle of a streetside hot plate, I am frequently asked where I am from, tongue still hungover from a year of graduate school in Beijing.

In between, only war brought people across the waters, and the two languages became ships passing in the night. Since President Tsai Ing-wen was elected inChina has repeatedly rejected diplomatic talks with Taiwan, replacing them with simulated attacks and combat exercises.

Against the backdrop of this aggression, I was already self-conscious about how much or to whom an accent could sound like a drill whistle or missile engine. That softness, he said, is part of his queer identity, and stands in contrast to the stereotypical, muscular, masculine gay man here.

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Sitting across from them in their home office, I was taken aback by how approachable they were: casually dressed in a gray v-neck shirt and workout shorts, clutching one of two heart-shaped pillows on their couch throughout our conversation. Their Instagram is an archive of buzz and pixie cuts dyed in various colors, over-the-shoulder smolders and poses that shift yeh yung chih and gay soft femme drapery to frontal power stances.

Before meeting them in person, I felt an overwhelming confidence in the limitless potential of who they could be. When I asked them for their gender and sexual identities, they clarified if I meant their current one. In their teenage years, when journalists would still secretly surveil gay and lesbian bars, they found comfort and safety within bisexuality as a category.

But as the media and political environments improved year by year, it had become harder for them to deny their true lesbian self. After tussling and turning between different micro-labels in the lesbian community—from leaving their hair long to be more effeminate to buying baggier clothes as a tomboy, all in search of what a potential partner might like—Wang feels like their sexual identity paved the path for their gender expression.

I peeked in: box TV, beers scattered across a few circular banquet tables and middle-aged women all on their feet, swaying with an ever-slight bounce. But just a few steps more into the green mountains, the karaoke began to blend with a house yeh yung chih and gay.

I came to this festival curious about this brand of queerness. During the talkback with his mother, Lin sat in his chair with his back straight, shoulder-length hair neatly swept behind his ears, hands folded over his crossed legs. The term entered popular discourse in the early s after the Yeh Yung-chih case, in which another Pingtung-based boy was aggressively bullied for his gender nonconformity and later found unconscious in his high school bathroom.

I wondered if the Rose Boy identity and that legacy weigh on Lin—in a nation where gender-based discrimination and patriarchal values persist. Sitting in front of a crowd of 20 or so attendees, fading in and out with the outdoor DJ sets, Lin lost his train of thought. His mom, Ye Yijing, saved the silence and described her parenting approach.

Her goal, she said, is to give her child room to explore gender and sexuality at his own pace. The crowd snapped and hollered over the unapologetic ad-lib, cheering Lin on in the full life ahead of him. To be 14 years old and talking about how to be yourself in front of a crowd of well-dressed, genderfluid adults seems like an impossible task to me even today.

Here, to be queer felt like a statement, a declaration that I am here to push the envelope of what is acceptable—and that felt cool. But for others, queer seems to point at an intentionally undefined expanse—a spirit of not only discarding broken systems but finding new possibilities in their stead.

When I ask queer folks about that moment, there is a collective recognition of its importance; They talk about the tears of joy and relief that flooded the court and streets as the multi-year, coalitional campaign successfully and finally came to an end. In the same breath, at least among the major organizations involved in those campaigns, they also recognize that the rainbow does not end at marriage equality.