Sitting On the Fence: Reflections on Intersectionality & Belonging
I’ve often felt like my belonging to an overlap of different minority identities makes me the kind of character on TV shows or movies that would inevitably be criticised to be unrealistic, pandering, and a token minority that’s just a little bit too much. A Chinese kid who’s a child of immigrants and who’s also queer* in more ways than one? That’s just unrealistic.
*(using as a blanket term here)
Yet that’s simply just who I am, and that’s my reality and my life every single day.
From a young age I’ve always had the distinct feeling of sitting on a fence, in that grey area in the middle of several venn diagrams. I’m Canadian, but not Canadian enough because of my race and skin colour and ancestry. I’m Chinese, but not Chinese enough because I grew up in Canada, speak English, and grew up in Western culture rather than a Chinese one. I don’t entirely fit in with white crowds, and I definitely don’t fit in with traditional Chinese ones by this point.
Throw in my queer identity and my complicated struggles with mental health, and I might as well be playing hopscotch with myself on a daily basis. I can almost never exist as all parts of me at once. In queer spaces I often have to tone down my experiences as a person of colour and the racism and fetishization I sometimes encounter in the community. In Chinese spaces I often have to be very silent about my queer identity because it easily clashes with so many traditional Chinese ideals. In therapy I often have to gauge whether or not it’s safe to disclose how much my queer identity plays a role in my life, whether it’s safe to do so.
I rarely feel a sense of just being able to safely and comfortably be me — as a whole, not fragmented into easily digestible pieces. In so many spaces there is at least one part of me that I have to push back in some way to be completely safe and listened to and understood — and that breeds a lot of internalised shame and fear over time. And it’s exhausting. But I’ve done this for so long out of necessity that it’s just second nature now.
I also don’t want people to see me and immediately define me by my race, my queer identity, my immigrant experience, or any of that. I’m all of that, but I’m also not simply just a summation of those parts. I might embrace all of who I am but none of those labels, not even pieced together, are me. I don’t want to suppress parts of me all the time, but I also don’t want to just be a caricature of whatever minority and label someone defines me as at first glance. And sometimes it’s pretty exhausting to have to be the One to try and explain Chinese culture and family honour and tradition in queer spaces, or the One to try and explain various sexualities or gender identities in traditional Chinese spaces.
At the end of the day, it’s all the same issue of having to juggle parts of myself at all times. It’s a carnival game of navigating society and making subtle, unconscious decisions for my own safety and wellbeing at every intersection.
Living at the intersection of minorities means I bump into barriers no matter where I turn. The amount of times I have encountered subtle or explicit racism in otherwise diverse spaces has been disheartening, even though I have related to some of those people in those spaces on gender, sexuality, everything else. And I find it extremely hard to be fully proud of my Chinese heritage (and I am proud of it, though it’s a complicated relationship), when homophobia and transphobia is so prevalent, and being different is almost always perceived as a betrayal. Once when I was talking to an old school counsellor about my sexuality, she told me I should just ignore it and try to live a “normal” life — because that’s what Chinese people should do.
Living in the middle means that everything from dating to education to job applications to healthcare is fraught with a certain kind of very taxing mental energy that needs to be expended just to protect myself. I just have to consider factors that other people may not have to even think twice about — racism, homophobia, transphobia, and more. It makes navigating almost any system and space a tiring maze instead of a steady path forward.
I’m not saying I don’t have privilege, either. I’m able bodied, I come from a working class family, and I’m getting a university degree. I am privileged in so many aspects that other people aren’t. And I recognise that, and therefore even more so emphasize the importance of not just seeing people as: the Chinese kid, the gay kid, the immigrant kid, the ____ kid — and more as the complex human beings they are. Acknowledge all of someone, instead of just parts that are convenient and easy for you. I even more so emphasize the importance of speaking openly about intersectionality in all spaces, even if it means there has to be some uncomfortable conversations along the way.
Nobody wants to acknowledge that they might hold some racist beliefs, or that they’re ignorant and uncomfortable with queer people, or that whilst living under systematic oppression in some aspects they may still be privileged and the oppressors in others. But that doesn’t mean it’s not important to open dialogue about it. As usual, just because you belong to one minority group doesn’t exempt you from being discriminatory to others. It’s all the more important to honestly talk and learn and reflect.
Sometimes, I’m tired of sitting on the fence and living in the middle and juggling several parts of me at once, wondering which one I have to subtly sacrifice in which space. But I do see it as a strength, too. It’s an interesting perspective to come from, and although it has had its giant share of challenges, I wouldn’t have it any other way.
