Table of Contents
1. Humor
2. The Unsung Sacrifices of a Gay Vietnamese, Family Man
Humor
Humor is a science. There are specific rules that govern the practice of humor – these rules determine whether your humor is really, ‘humor’. Make one mistake and your joke flops. Don’t ask me about it, though - I never flop.
There are several theories about humor. The Incongruous Juxtaposition theory, my personal favorite, states that for something to be humorous, there has to be an incongruous element, something that is unexpected/out of the ordinary. Like a cow driving by a pasture full of grazing humans. Withstanding all theories is the golden rule that forms the foundation of all humor: you and the other person must have shared background knowledge about the topic at hand, and a similar interpretation of it, too.
I didn’t know it but I started training to be funny at eight years of age. It was difficult at first, but I’m confident enough to say that now, ten years later, I’ve mastered humor.
Hần ơi, bây giờ béo quá rồi đấy Hần ơi!
(My dear, you are too fat now!)
Mẹ tài trợ con khoảng nghìn đô con đi tập Cali thành hót boi luôn mẹ ơi!
(Aunty, give me about a thousand dollars so I can gym at
Cali and I’ll become a ‘hot-boy’ in no time!)
In the above interaction, I made a joke using two shared pieces of knowledge: 1. The California Fitness Gym membership rate is ludicrously high (1,000 USD = 20,000,000 VND) and 2. ‘hot-boy’ is a term Vietnamese people use to tease a younger male who is sexually-attractive or, in this case, has lost weight). The aunty laughed, and I laughed too.
In 2017, Vietnam had the lowest obesity rate in the world, and it still boasts an incredibly low number today. I personally don’t contribute to this statistic, because I need to help keep Vietnam humble in some way. Online forums, travel blogs, and articles attribute Vietnam’s low obesity rate to the healthy, fresh cuisine, and the poorer, more labor-intensive, living standards.
Quang ơi, trông con như này, chừng nào mới có bạn gái hả
con?
(Quang, keep looking like this, how will you get a girlfriend?)
Bác đừng lo, mông con lệch như này, chả cần lo ‘sếc-xi’. Gái theo đuổi xả láng luôn.
(Don’t worry uncle, with my ass looking uneven like this, no need to worry about being sexy. All the girls will chase after me.)
In the above interaction, I used self-deprecating and stereotype-based humor to amuse my mom’s friend. The ‘ass looking uneven’ alludes to a large wallet (i.e. full of cash) in my back-pant pocket, creating an uneven look. Since I say that my large wallet attracts all these girls, I am using the female gold digger stereotype, but am also suggesting that the only way I can attract women is with my material wealth, not physically. I am not proud of this joke, but it worked since he laughed and patted me on the back. I laughed, too, to show that I share his perspective on women.
Underlying Vietnam’s impressively low obesity rate is a persistent and destructive culture of fat-shaming. It is an institution whose practices are left unchecked because its graduates are decorated. It features a rigorous curriculum of name-calling and emotional abuse, and we learn the difference between bad and good food and what fat thighs and nice thighs are. It is mentally straining, and sometimes it is difficult to joke around.
Hần ơi, mang cái cân ra đây. Xem thế nào.
(Bring the scale out here. Let’s see.)
In the above interaction, I was walking out of my room to get water and my mom asked me to get the scale and weigh myself so she can see. I did not reply with any humor.
Years of practicing humor has taught me that sometimes, humor doesn’t work. Sometimes, the people you want to joke with aren’t in a funny mood.
Đứng ra, mẹ kiểm tra có để đúng không.
(Step off the scale. Let me check if it’s adjusted correctly.)
My humor developed out of necessity. It is my coping mechanism, but I can only take so much before it boils over. Then, I resort to harsh words and bruised knuckles from punching the wall in my room and in the shower. Humor does not have my back then.
Được rồi. Đứng lên lại, xem cả tuần nay có giảm được gì không.
(Okay. Now step back on and let’s see if this week has amounted to anything.)
Fat-shaming is the twisted way Vietnamese people tell you they care about you. It is a bit backwards, but it is motivational, still. Loving, too, if you look really closely. It is the way they prepare you for the real world, because the real world is not always nice to fat people.
Now, I go to the gym almost every day of the week and limit my sweet intake to one Oreo cookie a day (three on Sundays). I am making steadfast progress, and I am starting to like what I see in the mirror. My brother asked me a while back how I am able to keep my motivation going so strong, and I struggled to decide whether I was doing it more so for myself, or for all the others to stop.
The Unsung Sacrifices of a Gay Vietnamese, Family Man
“You are the beacon of hope for our family, son.”
That was a comment my aunt left under my cousin’s Facebook post commemorating a prestigious scholarship he had received from university. When I saw it, I was initially consumed with joy, knowing how much work he had put towards his application, and seeing his hard-work pay off was incredible. However, it was quickly replaced with a deep sadness as I was reminded of a deep secret I was harboring, that neither my cousin nor his parents knew I knew.
In Vietnam, a man is expected to provide for his family. He may even be the sole breadwinner, expected to be financially-secure enough to provide for his immediate family and his parents as well. He is expected to be protective, strong, and smart. In Vietnam, a man is a lot of things, but a man is not gay. If he is gay, he is not a man. He cannot be a man.
My cousin comes from a poor family. His mother is a housekeeper, and his dad is unemployed. His sister works as the store manager of a convenience store. They are all currently in Vietnam, except for him – he is in the land of dreams and possibilities - the United States of America. My cousin, despite his modest upbringing, has managed to keep winning and winning, and now, he is in the United States of America, pursuing a degree in Economics and Communications. At university, he is appreciated for his fun dance choreographies and community involvements. At home, he is appreciated for the hope he inspires in his family. My cousin is powerful. He can do great things in this world.
In Vietnam, same-sex attraction is viewed as a diagnosable mental health condition, so conversion therapy is widely available, both in hospitals and private practices of spiritual healers and therapists. Generally, the older generation tend to cling to the traditional views on sexuality, whereas the younger generation possess more progressive views. Efforts made to vocalize LGBTQ+ rights are burdened by the gender binary structure on which most of Vietnamese society operates within, and often result in strained relationships between the youngsters and elders. Often, embracing your sexuality means abandoning familial ties.
Over winter break, we had a big feast at my uncle’s house to celebrate me and my cousin’s return home from college. Mats were being spread out on the floor in the small living room as I arrived with my family. I quickly joined the children to help set up the drinks and cut the fruits, while the women labored in the tiny kitchen and yelled HOT! Coming through! as they carried boiling bowls of soup and hot dishes of meat and vegetables out. Once everything was finally assembled, the men sat on one side, and the women and children sat on the other side. I sat in the middle, facing my cousin. After asking everyone to join in for a delicious meal, we dug in.
So, Chinh, have you found a girlfriend?
Yes, actually! Her name is Grace. She’s in the grade above me.
Well, damn! What’s she like? Show us a picture, damn it!
I watched as he pulled up a picture of Grace on his phone to show Tuan, my other cousin. Several other relatives crouched around and looked too. I held my soup bowl over my face to hide my face, and proceeded to bury the noodles into my mouth.
She’s really pretty. We’ve been going on dates for quite some time now. One day, I’ll even bring her back home here for everyone to see. You better give us privacy when time comes.
Everyone exploded into laughter. I played along. Tuan proposed a toast and we all clacked glasses and downed our beverages.
My cousin will be expected to marry one day, and have an extravagant wedding with a beautiful bride. He is expected to accomplish a lot, because of his accomplishments thus far, but also because of the resources that he has been afforded. He cannot afford to screw this up, because he is the beacon of hope for his family, and a lot is riding on his shoulders.
My cousin will one day have to face the looming ultimatum that has plagued him ever since he knew. He sacrifices every day to support the lie that preserves his image in his parents’ minds. He is a gay, family man, but ultimately, he can only be one of the two.
*I didn’t use real names in this essay to respect their wishes to remain unnamed and protect their identities.
Description
The silent struggles of those who yearn for acceptance, but must instead learn to navigate and compromise
Comments