Gay asian men thirst for white men
The first white boy I loved was in the fourth grade, soon after I had moved from Taiwan to Australia. Ben was a pale, narrow boy with sandy hair and hazel eyes. He often sat at the computer in the corner of the classroom, tapping away. I couldn’t communicate to him, my ability to communicate in English at the time capped at raising my hand, mumbling “toilet,” and frowning. Nonetheless, I liked sitting next to him with a book open in my lap, admiring his air of quiet intelligence. I imagined us kindred spirits, keeping a dignified distance from the ruckus of our fellow comrades.
Or at least that’s how I remember it, though who really knows. I was eight and already doing the thing that I would catch myself doing, again and again, in my teens and then my twenties: idealizing the objects of my affection, creating characters with whom I proceeded to fall head over heels in love. Maybe Ben was just sitting alone because he didn’t own any friends.
I have always been cautious to a fault. I am precious with my body, the reason why I dodge sports that involve rapid balls or speed in general (which is to say most sports). But when it comes to matters of the heart, I throw myself headfirst, not so
I Look Like Simu Liu, But I Still Can’t Get A Date
“I wager your profile says ‘no fats, no fems, no spice, no rice.’” Connor Walsh (played by Jack Falahee) delivers the lines with venom in one of my favorite scenes from season 1 of the TV series How to Get Away With Murder. He’s in the middle of defending Oliver Hampton (his future husband, portrayed by Filipino American actor Conrad Ricamora) from a couple of other white gay men at a bar, and this does a lot to endear Connor to Oliver.
Jack Falahee and Conrad Ricamora in "How to Receive Away with Murder"
ABC
This line still lives in my head rent-free to this day, but not with the triumph of its original context. It is a reminder of how many gay men perform not consider this “personal preference” to be racist, even though you’d be hard pressed to uncover anyone who puts “no whites” in their virtual dating profile where you’d often see “no Asians” or “no Blacks.”
The release and box office success of Marvel’s Shang-Chi and the Ten Rings last year seemed to signal that things are changing for the better. I had personally looked forward to the movie, not only because it was the first time an East Asian American man would be feature
Why queer Asian men often date white guys
GROWING up as a queer Asian person in Australia can be a unique and tiring ordeal.
Trying to figure out which culture you belong to as good as dealing with potential racism is a commonly shared experience.
Edison Chen aims to flesh out the intricacies and influences that exist within this cultural mesh.
“Kiss more Asians,” Ray Yeung joked at the Mardi Gras Clip Festival Q&A for his movie Front Cover – a Chinese love drama.
In attendance was an audience compromised of mostly same-sex attracted Asian men and we all silently acknowledged each other’s collective experiences as some chuckled at this comment.
The underlying sentiments behind these words were all understood like a piece of ironic fashion though.
We all knew because of our shared cultural background that we all took part on a similar journey of sexual racism.
When asked about his reasons for making the feature, Ray answered that he noticed a lack of gay Asian men who were interested in other gay Asian men in western countries.
In one scene in the movie, a young Caucasian man eyes and approaches the main character Ryan as he and his love interest Ning dance in a
What Did They Love Me For?
When I was a freshman in college, a friend of mine took me to a home party near downtown Minneapolis. I didn’t think much of it at the time—being nineteen, I seized any opportunity to liquor un-carded—but after we arrived, I forgot about the booze. The group was entirely male: about 90% Asian, most in their twenties, the rest colorless and significantly older. These were hawkish yet clumsy men who lumbered from Asian guy to Asian guy, leering, while the Asian men giggled, or flirted, or acted strangely grateful. Some of the Asian men danced. Some stood at the perimeter, assessing. All of them, it seemed, were vying for the attention of the older white men.
I got a beer, avoided eye contact, and when I returned to my friend, a fellow gay Asian guy, I leaned in and said, “What is this?”
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“It’s an Asian group,” he said. “For Asians and their admirers.”
“And all the admirers are old white guys?”
He shrugged, drank. “I guess,” he said.
I felt, for a moment, unmoored. Though I’d told him I didn’t care where we went, just that I wanted to drink, I hadn’t expected to be thrus
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