Seedling
those who sow seeds, side-by-side
in the dark,
would not wish the morning wood
come sooner,
as patient are they in the practice
of spring,
of springing vibrantly into action,
of acting vigorously in visceral
actuality, there is
a finality — leaving nothing
undone — these planters,
having fallen fatally from grace,
are no stranger to darkness
no stranger than darkness, than
divinity,
should they remain grateful,
graceful in the plight of night.
indeed, their appreciation is pen-
etrating in deed,
in seeds planted deep in pitch
Black
apprehending space-time, these
gardeners
gayly gaming the systems, thus,
find rhythm and rhyme
in celestial soil amidst turmoil,
their toil teams up with totality,
tension reeling at the root of their
intentions,
vitally vulnerable, visualizing new
worlds,
reveling in the initiatory release of
tender embrace,
letting go/coming out, abnegating
power in the darkest hour,
the morning wood could not come
sooner
for such lovers whose limbs do
dwell in dim lighting,
interspersed and spread on botan-
ical beds,
these are temporal tombs, boldly
sprouting
blooming in sleep, fruitfully
steeped in
close encounters with the cosmos,
lively drifting in dreamscape, a
life in death (together)
daringly, at dawn, coming out
they proclaim, “c’mon!” like,
“girl … it’s time to get up!”
yup, sworn in at morn, in time,
it is clear, that spring — is Queer
— is that verve which revives,
that early rise from past lives,
the girth of rebirth,
blessed at the bounty,
a body in its most natural state
erecting a resurrection …
in preparation for the perfor-
mance
of a lifetime — at dawn, they don
non-dual
adornment in liberating fashion,
fast
and far beyond the boundaries of
beauty,
of binary — at dawn the blossom-
ing,
the blending of All That Is as
Queer
as the sky is blue, and
if the morning wood came sooner,
in sole isolation
it surely would relegate irrel-
evance to the dark,
depths of soulful, intimate jubila-
tion,
jeering to night, springing into
eternity …
instead, we are enlightened in
Darkness,
in Queerness, bustling about the
contradictions,
querying the demarcations to day
— toward destiny.
Budding
March, as they say, comes in
like a lion, and (comes) out like a
lamb. Mammal metaphors aside
… that sounds a little fruity to me.
Though, it seems this third month
of year does miraculously meta-
morphosize, much like the advent
of spring does immaculately ring
with a rather roaring quality of
Queerness. Forever in flux. Hard
to define. In between binaries of
hot and cold, death and life, dark
and light. And rightfully so, as the
cycles of existence so effortlessly
reveal themselves in the poetics of
their performance.
While the metaphysics of March
remind us that we may exist abun-
dantly with/in our multiplicity,
that it is in our nature, our divine
right to do so, the modern forces
of conformity — white supremacy
and late-stage capitalism prey
upon our distinctiveness, collec-
tively programming us to proclaim
sameness, remaining unquestion-
ing of the (illusory) reality of our
human condition. These antago-
nistic entities usher us into the
determining matrices of mass con-
trol in the material world, without
any critical consideration of our
existential origins, destinies, ways
to realize purpose and find mean-
ing in this life and beyond.
Such distractions from our true
indescribable nature are most det-
rimental to racialized and gender
minorities as well as Queer people
who in the past have had our very
being defined through deficit for
hundreds of years. Thus Queer
people of Color have been forced
to live along the margins of a mar-
gin. Historical vestiges of colonial-
ism have fundamentally shifted
conceptions of gender, sexuality
and race within communities of
Color, leaving remnants of homo-
phobic sentiment still expressed
adamantly to this day.
Despite our ancient origins,
Queer
communities
of
Color
struggle to thrive in modernity,
striving toward political and civil
equality. As a result, the health
and well-being of Queer men of
Color continues to be under con-
stant attack. But as spring is about
revival, returning back to what
once was, it is now time for us to
resurrect and reclaim our Queer-
ness in its full form, shifting away
from seeing our (homo)sexuality
as scarce to abundant.
Our mission with this interview
series was as such — to create a
multimedia cultural exhibition,
an in-depth dialogical archive of
the relational lives of eight Queer
men of Color at the University of
Michigan, thoroughly exploring
the breadth of their experiences
through a bounty of identities and
backgrounds. In conducting these
comprehensive confidential inter-
views, we considered a diverse
set of backgrounds including race
and ethnicity, body size, religious
and spiritual affiliation, class and
physical ability.
During this venture, we que-
ried our communities of Color
about the perceived lack of Queer
people — on campus and in the
world — or in other words, this
idea of homoscarcity, that, as we
maintain, has been manufactured
by the mechanisms of capital and
the white power structure, delud-
ing us to believe that Queerness is
rare, especially within communi-
ties of Color.
In the fall of 2022, we developed
our framework for these inter-
views, conducted in winter 2023,
as we sought to understand the
psycho-social wellness of Queer
men of Color as mediated through
the experience of body, soul, spirit
and mind. Unwinding over the
course of five months, this long-
winded process has been a wildly
bewildering,
heart-wrenching
experience for the two of us, often
hitting very close to homo.
Michigan in Color
The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
The homoscarcity chronicles: Introduction
HUGO QUINTATA &
KARIS CLARK
Former MiC Assistant Editor amd
Former MiC Columnist
Design by Sara Fang
Wednesday, April 5, 2023 — 11
THC Part 1: Performativity and pollination
Queerness exists at the site of
performance. We act as pollinators,
allowing others to flourish, plant-
ing seeds of inspiration in the souls
of others. Everyone grows when we
show up as our true selves.
Content warning: mentions of
sexual assault, drug abuse, racial-
ized violence and homophobia. All
names have been changed for the
sake of anonymity.
While you read, listen to our col-
lectively curated playlist of planted
seeds/songs at your leisure!
Ezra Kim — Freshman — Kore-
an-American
Top 3 Songs/Seeds
“Never Wanna Fall,” by Talia
Goddess
“Cool People,” by Chloe x Halle
“Inn Blue,” by Declan McKenna
This interview has been edited
and condensed for clarity.
How does your Queerness
(or Queer identity) inform your
other social identities (thinking
along the lines of race, ethnicity,
nationality, body size, gender,
sex, spiritual affiliation, reli-
gion, class, physical ability, etc.)?
It’s mostly affected my religion.
I would go to church and hear that
you shouldn’t be gay, and if you
are, that’s OK, just don’t act on it. I
was very active volunteering in my
church so my journey as a Chris-
tian has been affected coming here.
I grew up with a lot of religious
trauma and my sexuality has made
it more difficult for that.
I’m not really out to a lot of Kore-
an people (in my community). It’s
very tricky. Koreans like to talk a
lot. In Korea, there’s very set stan-
dards and rules everyone follows;
it’s very organized. There’s not
really room to be exploring or open.
You just have to do everything as
planned. The way I grew up has
been kind of opposite as a Queer
man.
Even within the gay commu-
nity, there are such set standards
for what a gay man should look
like. There’s a beauty standard that
everyone follows or longs for in a
partner that’s made me, especially
going into the arts, more aware of
how I present myself. Sometimes, I
wonder, “Do I look good? Do I look
gay enough?” But also like … “Do I
look straight enough?” … ‘cause I
don’t wanna be like out, you know,
so you’re always like aware of the
way you’re presenting yourself.
How has Queer representa-
tion in media informed your
sexual
orientation
(thinking
along the lines of film, television,
music, news, fiction and non-fic-
tion books)?
I grew up in a weird generation.
A lot of new things were brought
to light in my middle school years.
In elementary school there was no
Queer representation that I saw at
least. And then in middle school we
were more exposed to Queer art-
ists. I remember watching “Love,
Simon,” and there was all so much
good representation of it. Nothing
of the dark side. So I always like
damn everybody’s so happy being
gay, why am I not? So there was
kind of like a longing for it but I was
also just jealous of it.
I think once I became old enough
to understand the idea of the gay
community, pride month, I went to
Pride this last summer and it was
crazy. It was so liberating because
everyone around me is just like me.
And now I’m old enough to know
everyone is going through shit
and went through shit. So I never
felt so safe, even though I’m liter-
ally outdoors in Manhattan, any-
thing can happen but I remember
just thinking, “Lemme just live in
the moment ‘cause when I go back
home it’s not gonna be like this.”
There’s a stereotype that a lot
of theatre students are LGBTQ …
I think it’s true, which is kind of
funny ‘cause in a way I was able to
find the perfect community with
the thing I love and the people that
will love me and that I will love in
return. And just seeing perform-
ers on stage, like Queer performers
even if they’re not playing a Queer
character — for me when I see an
Asian-American Queer person, it
gives me hope.
A few weeks ago Telly Leung vis-
ited us. He’s a Queer Asian-Amer-
ican theatre artist from New York,
and just seeing him thrive gave me
a little hope. But there’s also that
fear of … “Will I ever be able to get
there? How did he get there?” It
must have been really fucking hard.
But at least we have those people to
look up to.
How would you describe your
experience on campus as a Queer
man of Color?
It has not been easy … but (the
School of Music, Theatre & Dance)
is a very welcoming environment.
Everyone is very accepting and
that’s pretty known. Especially for
me coming from New York City, I
was shocked when I came here to
meet real white people who have
genuine questions. A lot of the time
those questions are microaggres-
sions…
Also being in (the Music, Theatre
& Dance School), I’m not the most
social person … I’m pretty quiet,
especially to professors. In Korean
culture, age difference is a really big
thing. You have to speak formally
to elders. You don’t speak to them
if they don’t speak to you. There’s
a very set hierarchy. Coming here
and seeing my white friends joke
around with my professors and
being so comfortable and my pro-
fessors obviously liking that and
favoriting those students — it’s so
unfair because my body just won’t
do that. I’m not just gonna be mak-
ing jokes. It’s been hard because it
makes me feel like my professors
don’t like me. There’s a white stan-
dard that we’re expected to follow
in terms of being a social person,
or a fun person, or a good person
to work with. There’s so many of us
that prefer to do the work and stay
quiet or be respectful. So it’s been a
little hard navigating that.
As Queer man of Color, a lot of
times people are looking for white
people. Or they’re just fetishizing
me and into my Asianness. There’s
like a set group of people that I
know that goes for Asian people. I
often feel like an animal. They’re
so fascinated by me when I’m lit-
erally just a person. And it’s like I
get it, you’re just trying to know me
but I’m not asking about you being
white. Oftentimes I leave kind of
disgusted, I almost kind of blame
it on myself. Like I knew that was
going to happen, why would I even
try? But it’s like, I shouldn’t have to
do that. There’s plenty of mediocre
white men that just get to have a
normal experience.
And oftentimes, there’s like this
Infinity Stone analogy. There’s
certain people that just love to be
around people of Color and treat
being an ally as an achievement.
With making white friends, I’m
often more careful ‘cause often-
times I’m just like a check on their
checklist. Ultimately, it’s people of
Color I feel safe around, or really
fully loved not just for being myself,
not for being Asian, but for being
Queer.
Do you think there’s truly a
lack of out Queer men of Color
on campus and in the world? If
yes, why?
I wouldn’t say there’s a lack of
us. We definitely are scattered
around everywhere. I just think
when you’re Queer person of Color
you have to come out or be a really
extroverted persona and people
have to know that you’re gay or
Queer. I feel like when you’re a
Queer person of Color you have to
actively put yourself out there so
people know. I think that’s why we
have a perception that there’s not
as many of us. It’s a lot of work to
come out.
A lot of us are able to explore
ourselves here but go back home
to a closeted life. I think a lot of
Queer men of Color here are just
going too fast. They’re not able to
have the full experience of grow-
ing into their body or their identity;
rather they’re just trying to meet
people, trying to hook up, trying
to just be gay because you can’t
do that at home. It’s hard to find
friends or people I can just be with,
be safe with because a lot of times
they’re just trying to fuck. Trying
to get stuff done ‘cause I can’t do
this when I go back home. Get stuff
done. It’s so funny when talking
about (Winter) Break. For me, I’d
rather be here because of the free-
dom I have. When I go back home I
can’t explore. I can’t just be myself
because I’m gonna have to have a
double life like I’m Hannah Mon-
tana. We’re all out there. We’re all
just unfortunately not able to find
each other in the right way.
It was crazy — the second I got
here. It’s like everyone’s on a mis-
sion to fuck someone. I get it’s the
college experience. But within the
gay community especially, it’s very
boom, boom, boom, goodbye. Very
unsafe, but I honestly get it. It’s not
because we’re Queer men of Color,
it’s because we grew out of being
a child. And now we’re given the
freedom, so we do whatever we
want. But I think I’m at the point
where I’m just trying to find people
to be comfortable around, to be
loved around and not have to pres-
ent myself in a certain way, just be
myself and they’ll be OK with that.
I’ve been especially trying to find
more Asian (Queer) friends because
I’m just so sick of the everyone just
trying to fuck or everyone just hav-
ing a little interaction and just leav-
ing.
How might Queer men of
Color find purpose and meaning
in a life of multiple marginaliza-
tion?
When we stay fixated on all the
shit we go through, it’s harder.
Especially when straight people
and businesses want us to talk
about it. My life is hard enough.
There’s a lot of joy in my life too,
and those things get blocked out
by people who want to hear trau-
ma stories. Staying fixated on that
isn’t helpful in my opinion. I think
allowing yourself to live in the joy-
ful moments and really cherishing
those. Those are the things that
keep us going and living — allow-
ing yourself to just celebrate all the
time. It’s OK to talk about the chal-
lenging stuff, but it should be out of
pride and out of being happy with
the way we are.
Jack Nathan — Sophomore —
Black/white
Top 3 Songs/Seeds
“Versace on the Floor,” by Bruno
Mars
“Melting,” by Kali Uchis
“Dat Way,” by Tay K
This interview has been edited and
condensed for clarity.
How does your Queerness
(or Queer identity) inform your
other social identities (thinking
along the lines of race, ethnicity,
nationality, body size, gender,
sex, spiritual affiliation, reli-
gion, class, physical ability, etc.)?
The Black community needs to
wake the fuck up a little bit. In big
cities probably less so, but unfor-
tunately I think class has to go
into it too. I think more privileged
Black people are allowed to express
their sexuality more freely than in
a marginalized community. In my
hometown, the Black community
was not tolerant of Queerness in
any way.
Black Queerness here is more
accepted.
Read more at MichiganDaily.com
HUGO QUINTATA &
KARIS CLARK
Former MiC Assistant Editor amd
Former MiC Columnist
Read more at MichiganDaily.com