Coming Out: De-Fetishizing Queer Bodies in Asian Media

Max Calara
14 min readMay 2, 2024

Did you know that in 2019, the most searched term in Pornhub was “Japanese,” followed by “hentai,” “lesbian,” “Korean,” and “Asian,” respectively? It is needless to say that Asian and queer bodies are heavily sexualized and sought after, but ironically enough, the representation of queer people in Asian media is often scarce, illegal, and misrepresented. The invisible queer Asian media has always been seen as an innuendo, left to be hidden in code and only to be interpreted by the viewer. From the fetishization of gay and lesbian people in yaoi and yuri, all the way to the recent legalization of same-sex relationships in some Asian countries, there is a significant change in the Asian landscape towards their perspective of the queer in the past and the present. The increased visibility of the queer identity in the Asian lens startled both the East and the West; nevertheless, it promoted homosexual positivity, inclusivity, and opportunity for more queer bodies to be seen and heard (Yue 146). With the decriminalization of homosexuality in Asian countries and the application of the queerscape, the queer Asian perspective is moving towards accurate representation and visibility through the works of Wong Kar Wai, productions from openly queer creatives, and the coming out and acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community in the Asian world.

Historically speaking, LGBTQ+ history in Asia is unknown to most individuals due to the apprehension towards the queer lifestyle. The concept of gender pluralism and queerness in Asian culture was initially the norm. However, the rising influences of world religions, colonialism, political centralization, the development of nationalist and modernist discourses, capitalism, and processes of urbanization and industrialization shifted the narrative into a heteronormative perspective (Davies). Prior to colonization, Asian countries such as Indonesia had multiple genders including ones that present a non-binary gender identity called “bissu.” When Portuguese colonizers invaded Indonesian territory, “bissu” was seen as unusual, saying, “the Christian god… had not yet destroyed such “wanton people” who were “encircled by evil”” (Ngu). Knowing that Europeans viewed this as a threat, they saw it as an opportunity to criminalize queer Asian lives and punished those who publicly presented their queerness. For instance, the enactment of the Indian Penal Code, which contains a section that states “whoever voluntarily has carnal intercourse against the order of nature with any man, woman or animal,” would be punished with imprisonment or a fine (Wong). This law was adopted by other Asian countries in enforcing homophobic values, which implies the justification of any form of LGBTQ+ discrimination and raises the social stigma towards being queer. This shift in stance towards Asian queer culture resulted in the grand erasure of the continent’s queer history.

The transformation from an open-minded community to an openly discriminatory government explains the lack of appropriate representation of LGBTQ+ bodies in Asian media. In Filipino media, it is seen that characters who are presented as stereotypically effeminate gay, or “bakla” in Tagalog, are much more prominent in films and shows than the masculine gay (Payuyo 305). These are generally tolerated by the religious Filipino audience simply because queer characters are only seen as a form of visual delight and entertainment; as long as the film does not “idealize” homosexual unions or contain graphic content, the motion pictures with queer roles will not be seen as controversial (Reyes et al. 22). In this sense, a form of commodification of the queer body began to surface in the media. A primary example of this form of queer representation is a Filipino indie film called Ang Pagdadalaga ni Maximo Oliveros (The Blossoming of Maximo Oliveros). Released in 2005, the film follows the openly gay pre-teen Maximo Oliveros, who lives in the crime-driven slums of Manila together with his family of thieves. Maximo falls in love with policeman Victor– creating an internal conflict of whether he should pursue a romantic relationship or protect his family. Maximo, as a character, acts in accordance with the stereotypical bakla– wearing flamboyant clothing, having an intensive knowledge of Miss Universe questions, using Filipino gay lingo, and having an attraction towards heterosexual men. The bakla is constantly perceived as one that possesses “pusong babae” or a female heart– essentially saying that a bakla is stuck in a male body with a female heart (Reyes et. al. 31). This generalized perception of queer individuals in Filipino media presumes that the majority of LGBTQ+ members follow the effeminate gay stereotype, erasing the vibrance of the voices, existence, and energy of the diverse queer culture.

Aside from the aforementioned stereotype of the bakla, Filipino media also conceals the presence of queer bodies in its media and entertainment industries. For instance, gay men in the Philippines commonly work as choreographers, production assistants, make-up artists, comedians, and other supporting roles that are not as publicly showcased as other professions, like actors, directors, and public figures (Reyes, et. al. 35). Despite these workers being publicly open with their sexualities, it is challenging to find an opportunity to feel recognized and respected in their fields. Queer individuals are perceived differently compared to their straight counterparts, having some form of apprehension or fear towards them since they are presumed to influence others to become a part of the LGBTQ+ community. A participant from a focus group discussion even mentions, “My older brother does not want me to go near my nephew for fear that they would be like me” (Reyes, et. al. 33). Many LGBTQ+ individuals then result to hiding their queerness by ‘acting straight’ in order to avoid any form of negative attention from the media and any close connections they have in real life. Moreso, they prefer those who strictly adhere to the gender binary, enforcing an idea to the public that identifies differently from the gender binary entails some sort of societal rejection. These reactions towards LGBTQ+ members reveal that the toleration and acceptance of the non-queer community are greatly limited to those who do not publicize their different genders and sexual orientations.

As the toleration of queerness becomes more prevalent in the media, the fetishization of queer relationships becomes a prevailing aspect of queer Asian representation. In Asian media, the concept of fan service is a primary example of the over-sexualization of the LGBTQ+ community. Fan service provides sexually suggestive content to the audience, resulting in raised excitement and engagement from the audience (Binimbol). This form of content is often utilized by Japanese anime and manga. For instance, yaoi and yuri are two notable genres fetishizing gay and lesbian relationships. Yaoi, relatively known as Boys’ Love (BL), is centered on the romantic connection between two boys and is targeted towards women viewers (Fetishization of Gay Men in Manga). The viewers, known as fujoshi, have a distinct attraction towards the idea of two men together (Dark Red Rose). The fujoshi’s fetishization of gay relationships makes one disregard yaoi and yuri as a form of representation; instead, one’s sexuality becomes a form of commodity. The commodification of the fetish towards Girls’ Love (GL) Japanese content, or yuri, is no different. Targeted for men, the creators entertain the viewers’ fantasies through intentionally unintentional fan service, such as two girls on top of each other, the accidental fondling of the woman’s breasts, and other occurrences. Some Japanese content also adds queerbaiting content– the utilization of “fanservice that lures and keeps female viewership high by presenting a will-they-won’t-they scenario between two male characters” (Torrens-Soto). Queerbaiting provides no form of LGBTQ+ representation and intentionally exploits the usage of the queer body for online impressions. The production of GL and BL content normalizes forming fixations toward varying sexualities and identities, alongside seeing queerness as a product for consumers.

Furthermore, the proliferation of fan services is also present in the K-pop industry. Due to the overly protective fanbase that K-Pop groups have, many fans romantically pair same-sex group members with each other to prevent the possibility of dating a person of the opposite sex. Despite the openly discriminating nation, idols are forced by their management to perform skinship among their bandmates. “Agencies instruct male idols to intentionally touch each other more when they go on stage or broadcast so that fans capture the moment and spread it on social media,” an idol trainer shares as he reveals the harsh truth regarding these interactions (Park). This commercially-driven use of skinship provides discomfort to the K-Pop idols and the LGBTQ+ individuals of South Korea, as they are only seen and accepted within the domain of being ‘trendy clickbait content.’ It is clear that being a part of the LGBTQ+ community is considered acceptable by Asian media only if it is used for a fictional romantic connection that drives a significant reaction.

As the queer body gradually becomes more present in the media, one begins to question how they can differentiate appropriate queer visibility from queer fetishization. The fetishization of queer individuals relies on the false stereotypes indoctrinated by the media. Kaur enumerates generalizations in the media, such as queerbaiting, token representations, retroactive representations, and more (Kaur). Though any representation is more proactive than no representation, the general public has grown to be more inclusive over time and can provide a more nuanced perspective of the LGBTQ+ community. The reclamation of the queer experience, where one knows that queer life exists through affirmative media, is essential in order to feel seen and heard. Appropriate queer representation displays lived experiences of queer life where one can see the intersectionality between their cultural values and queerness. Rather than commodifying LGBTQ+ bodies for the cisgender heterosexual eye, queer roles deserve a thorough character arc and inclusive spaces to express and destigmatize the diverse queer culture (Kaur). An example of presenting an accurate representation of a queer role is Barry Jenkin’s Moonlight. The film introduces an African American man named Chiron, who, throughout his life, was deprived of his childhood and filled with rage until he encountered self-realization in his adulthood. Jenkins takes the viewers throughout Black’s life in a trilogy, creating a developed character and realizing his sexuality which has been tested over time (Bradshaw). The viewer was able to explore Chiron’s romantic connection with his friend Kevin, who also struggled with identifying his sexuality. Moonlight’s artistic expression of Chidi’s life– from anger and hatred to self-acceptance and growth– enabled the public to see an unvarnished representation of queer life, one that recognizes the scars faced by all sexualities, conditioned by its intersection with race and class.

As the discussion towards decriminalizing the queer becomes embedded into modern society, providing a fertile arena for queer individuals to be visible becomes essential in identifying spaces that require reworking for the Asian queer diaspora to thrive. With this, Yue introduces the terminology queerscape, which works towards “​​destabilizing dominant cinematic gender and sexual norms through two research approaches: (1) the new worlds of queer Asian media cultures created through the globalization of LGBT cultures and (2) the oblique spaces of non-heteronormativity reclaimed and reinvented on the margins of straight (mainstream, official, colonial) spaces” (Yue 149). The queerscape propelled the Asian diaspora in supporting the queer community from legalizing same-sex marriage and queer relationships. Moreover, the predominance of queer Asian media and cinema began to interrogate new regimes of governance that are conditioning the shaping of media institutions and sexual futures. For instance, Tokyo recently established a system that legalizes same-sex unions starting in April of 2022 (Reuters).

Queer media in Asia rose to visualize queer individuals in the 1990s through the Japanese gay film festival boom (Yue 146). Films such as Takehiro Nakajima’s Okoge (1992), Ang Lee’s The Wedding Banquet (1993), and Wong Kar Wai’s Happy Together (1997) are prominent examples of how these historical events stabilized the normalization of queer subjects in Asian cinema. Alongside the prominence of lesbian, gay, and women’s film festivals in Japan (1992), Taiwan (1993), and Hong Kong (1989), HIV and AIDS awareness becomes a relevant topic of discussion towards widening the queerscape to Asian countries where homosexuality is illegal (Yue 147). Many countries, such as Malaysia and Indonesia, require these pieces of media in order to transform their negative perceptions of the LGBTQ+ community and promote equality in their nations. The presence of queer subjects in both fictional and non-fictional instances will further institutionalize the queerscape and encourage the acceptance of the LGBTQ+ community in spaces that reject them.

Moreover, as Asian creatives presently explore gender and sexuality, one cannot begin the conversation of queer Asian media presence without Wong Kar Wai’s film Happy Together (1997). The story follows Lai and Ho, a queer couple who moves to Buenos Aires in hopes of a better life along with repairing their destructive and tumultuous relationship. With Lai, played by Tony Leung Chiu Wai, and Ho, played by Leslie Cheung, it explores the longing and loathing of two people who have no one else but each other in the spaces confined to them (Glagowski). Leslie Cheung, who was one of the first celebrities to publicly identify themselves as gay, was a beacon to queer roles with openly queer actors. His presence in the film provided a closer attachment for the LGBTQ+ community to the storyline, and his role as a queer actor himself greatly contributed to the advancement of the queerscape. Director Wong Kar Wai prefers the film not to be considered a gay film by saying, “I don’t like people to see this film as a gay film. It’s more like a story about human relationships and somehow the two characters involved are both men. Normally I hate movies with labels like ‘gay film,’ ‘art film’ or ‘commercial film.’ There is only good film and bad film” (Glagowski). This artistic exploration towards queer representation does not confine its characters nor its plot within a one-size-fits-all box, unlike the aforementioned misrepresentations which limit the queer identity. Wong Kar Wai presents Lai as someone with a conservative outlook on life while Ho has a “rock-and-roll attitude” (Glagowski). The director presents two polar opposites and their dynamic between each other. The film presents itself as a pedestal for the present and future creatives who choose to increase LGBTQ+ visibility and was a revelational factor of queer characters in media. Besides the creative direction, acting, and plot of Happy Together, Wong Kar Wai’s visual masterpiece amplifies the queer voice in the medium of cinema.

With the impetus of these films, present-day Asian LGBTQ+ representation traverses across the continent and the world. Creatives began producing content with more openly queer performers, stories, and positivity. In the Philippines, the rise of the Filipino boys’ love genre produces a more nuanced narrative for the queer (Minerva & Ramos). In 2020, Globe Studios released a YouTube series, Gaya Sa Pelikula (Like In The Movies). The series introduces Karl and Vlad, who cross paths with each other as neighbors and, with a turn of unforeseen events, end up being housemates. Vlad, played by Ian Pangilinan, is openly gay and aloof from his family, while Karl, played by Paolo Pangilinan, discovers his sexuality through his relationship with Vlad and has a close connection with his family. Gaya Sa Pelikula opens the discussion of the struggle of coming out and the journey of coming to terms with one’s identity in a society only just beginning to accept the community, making the series to be a relevant form of queer portrayals. Karl is the very representation of the countless queer youth growing up in the closet, in fear of being shunned by those close to their hearts. Moreover, the series was directed, written, and acted by openly queer creatives: JP Habac, Juan Miguel Severo, and Paolo Pangilinan, respectively. Gaya Sa Pelikula explores outside the bakla narrative, forming a complex, real representation of being gay (Minerva & Ramos). More importantly, the program emphatically states, “Ibabalik natin ang kwento,” in English– we will reclaim our story. It is an open protest against the discrimination that has resulted in all the life and love lost through decades of fear and anxiety. The cleverly crafted piece of Gaya Sa Pelikula is one of the many products of the generational discourse about queer representation in Asian media, which continues to increase its momentum.

As the future of the LGBTQ+ community continues to work towards confronting and challenging the straight-centered paradigm of society, utilizing minor transnationalism becomes integral to expanding the queerscape. Minor transnationalism, coined by Shu-mei Shih and Françoise Lionnet, “refers to the multidirectional, bottom-up forces that have created new spaces of global exchange and participation without the mediation of the center” (Yue 150). The concept of minor transnationalism focuses on the relative work inputted by the past and present-day trailblazers who have established the growing visibility of the Asian queer diaspora. Its goal of expanding the representation of intersecting identities results in “destabiliz[ing] colonial, neocolonial, patriarchal, and heteronormative forces,” which ultimately dismantle the stereotypes reinforced today (Yue 150). On this note, the work towards inclusivity does not stop behind one’s computer screen; rather, it is the proactive engagement towards online and offline discussions regarding the LGBTQ+ communities in society. In South Korea, many queer individuals received heightened homophobia amid the pandemic as the government’s contact tracing application informed the public that a COVID-19 patient had visited a gay club in Itaewon (Cheng, Henry, & Kim). Many Korean LGBTQ+ activist groups denounced negative remarks such as “disease-spreading gays” by initiating a public statement saying, “[A] person’s disease does not justify hatred and discrimination against one’s sexual orientation” (Cheng, Henry, & Kim). Moreover, they also hosted multiple virtual queer parades to present their allyship and support to the queer community. The internet’s ability to harness attention from people worldwide and challenge pressing issues such as stigmatizing the queer diaspora creates a new platform for the growth of the individual and the community. The utilization of minor transnationalism, these seemingly miniature but greatly impactful forms of protest, could then progress into a larger movement that strives for gender equality and the appropriate representation of the LGBTQ+ diaspora.

Ultimately, the perennial fight for improved representation is not an immediate pursuit. The discourse for queer visibility in the Asian landscape proceeds to argue that the LGBTQ+ community is to be concealed and silenced. Rather, the queer Asian diaspora deserves the right to come out. The narratives transformed from reproducing stereotypes such as the bakla, yaoi, and yuri to forming developed characters such as Happy Together’s Lai and Ho, and Gaya Sa Pelikula’s Karl and Vlad. The stories of the queer will be heard and undermine the stereotypes established by the cisgender and heterosexual-centered eye. Alongside this, the emphasis of minor transnationalism permeates the spread of the queerscape, creating a larger space for growth in the perspective of the Asian region. As Gaya Sa Pelikula highlighted: Ibabalik nating ang kwento. The queer Asian landscape continues to reclaim, reinvent, and reidentify itself with the growing accurate representation in the media. The works of Wong Kar Wai and the rise of film festivals were only the beginning; now, it is up to the present and future trailblazers of the queer diaspora to see what is next.

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Max Calara

Content-driven social media professional passionate about strategically create a new narrative within digital spaces.