Surprise! I’m Still Gay
Do you still see me as me or am I just as disappointing as your expectations?
Story by Quynh Trinh
I walk down Holly Street on a casual strut around town. I see JJ’s, then the Comic’s Place, then I see it — Old 99 Barber Shop. I feel like what I’m about to do will transform me into a much cooler, fresher version of myself. It was momentous. I was on top of the world, and then…
“I have an opening at 11, do you want me to write you in then?” my barber said.
I was so confident! I was ready! I feel my face heat up, all my nervousness swelling up in my cheeks. Is this a sign it shouldn’t happen, like it wasn’t meant to be?
The walk back to my apartment is grueling. I don’t want a usual trim — I want a change. Everyone has their own ball and chains, and mine is tradition.
I didn’t come out, I was found.
In 2011, I had a secret girlfriend. We dated for about a year. I told my parents we were friends because it wasn’t normal to be gay: not at this age, not in this culture, not in this family.
The day my mom found out, she showed me my Facebook and asked what this was.
This was my girlfriend writing a sweet love note to me. This was a secret I had to hide because our family didn’t talk about or allow relationships. This was my story, and I didn’t even get to tell it.
“What’s wrong with you? Are you sick? Why would you do this to me?” Mom asked. She bawled her eyes out and wouldn’t even talk to me that night.
My step-dad told my girlfriend to go home, and we were told to break up. After that, I found a way to keep my relationships extra private. Until my senior prom night, when I came home with my year-long boyfriend to enjoy our to-go tacos, but we broke up when I left for college. Since then, all my mom asked about or even hinted at was my ex. As if the possibility of liking men and women didn’t exist.
If I get this haircut, what will my family think?
What will my mom say? As the firstborn, I’m taught to be the best, to follow tradition and to be a role model for my younger siblings. Would they see me as the same person if they saw what I did?
Long hair is defined by a history of empowerment, strength and beauty, coupled with an experience of historical discrimination, especially for Vietnamese men. It’s a tradition for Vietnamese women to keep their reputation spotless and our beauty everlasting, because impressions matter in Vietnamese society. Layla Hair Salon, a hair salon blog based in Hanoi, Vietnam, said Vietnamese women living in rural areas keep their hair long for convenience and simplicity.
My mother and grandmother grew up the same; long, jet-black hair, graceful gestures and young complexion, wearing “áo dài,” a traditional Vietnamese garment. My mother used to show me photos of her in these long dresses in the countryside of South Vietnam. Who knew a single mother of four could still look the same years later? She’s traditional that way.
As I sit on my barber’s chair, I contemplate the repercussions of failing as a Vietnamese American — a person who wants their mom to understand it’s not her fault, a person who wants to take this step to prove to themselves they’re still queer and proud to be.
No more hiding in the dark.
The clippers tap my hair.
I see it on the floor: a history of repressed memories.
It took me ages to figure out what haircut I wanted, and I was scared. Even after waiting two hours.
I recorded a video to show my friends. Then I show my brother Phuoc. Wrong move.
A few days later, my mom calls.
“Are you okay? What’s wrong? Did something bad happen?” Mom asks.
“No mom, I’m fine,” I said.
“Then why did you cut your hair like that? People only do that when something bad happen or when they go crazy.”
“No Mom, I’m fine. I just wanted to try something new,” I said.
“Why do you want to look like a man? No more of this, OK?”
I hang up. I lost the opportunity to tell my mom it was inspired by her haircut for chemotherapy, that my current girlfriend likes it and that it makes me happy.
She had already made up her mind by then.
A week later, I text my brother to ask him why he showed Mom the video of my hair. He tells me that he thought it might make it easier for me to confess I have a girlfriend. I guess he’s looking out for me. I ask him how this came up in conversation.
My mom and brother were eating lunch together, joking around. Then, he brought it up and showed her the video.
“She shook her head, probably thinking why you cut your hair like that, but she didn’t say anything bad about it,” my brother said.
Then they talked about other things.
My brother came out the same as me: discovered on Facebook. I don’t know whether or not his coming-out story ever came up again with Mom.
“I mean, if they learned to love me past being gay, I believe it’s going to be the same for you,” Phuoc said.
I want to believe him. He expresses himself more to Mom about who he is. He’s more open and more unapologetic about his queerness. And I’m still here, scared.