Fridae

For going out and having fun, Hong Kong is a fine gay city. It's so easy to get around, and watering holes of every type are to be found. Gossips never run out at the bars, nor do guys gyrating their pelvises while showing off their six-pack muscles on the dance floors. At women-only karaoke bars, self-identified tomboys impersonate heartthrob Nicholas Tse to dazzle their dream girls while an endless stream of beer flows. In many fancy restaurants, gay couples conspicuously gaze into each other's eyes while chewing their fine steak and sipping Margaux.

It all looks like such a paradise compared to the 70's, when everything was about being discrete. Private gatherings among a group of lesbian feminists were held from time to time, but you had to be in the know to know where they were. For the guys, the place was a drably decorated restaurant/bar in the Central District called Dateline. "It was an unthreatening, easy-going, no-questions-asked kind of place, which suited the mood of an era when most of us were 80 percent in the closet and perfectly happy to stay that way," Spadrille (not his real name), who prefers to remain anonymous, recalls. An equivalent to Dateline on the Kowloon side was Waltzing Matilda, later to be renamed Wally Matt.

And as the society in general became more affluent in the late 70s and early 80s, a new picture came to life. More gay kids were afforded overseas education, and they later came back to Hong Kong with fresh ideas in their heads. Among them was Samshasha (a pseudonym), who pioneered gay publications such as A Gay Chinese Manifesto in 1980 and Pink Triangle in 1981, Hong Kong's first underground gay newsletter.

The increasing affluence also brought about a new gay scene. Disco Disco (also known as DD) was opened by flamboyant Gordon Huthart in 1978; and together with Cat Street, the coffee shop of former Hilton Hotel, they formed the breeding ground of a significant gay circle. "Cat Street was what we called 'DD's canteen', and every Friday and Saturday at around 9pm, [the gay crowd] would start gathering there, drinking and trying to act as straight as they could," Brando Reurs, a 44-year-old Dutch headhunter who moved to Hong Kong in 1982, recalls. "After the coffee they would go to DD."

But the DD circle was living under the shadow of a draconian law that made male homosexual sex punishable by life imprisonment, not to mention a Special Investigation Unit under the Royal Police Department set up to go after anyone suspected or confirmed to be gay. Huthart was among one of the hunted and once spent 13 weeks in prison for a buggery conviction.

Moreover, the DD scene was only for the elites. "If you were at DD, you must be something," Janiver Lam, a marketing professional in her mid 30s, declares. "It was for members only, and to be a member you had to be either good looking, or someone." And among the regulars were two late Canto-pop legends, Danny Chan and Roman Tam, whose sexual orientations were tireless subjects of rumors and innuendos. "They were the queens of DD, always sitting in the VIP room," Reurs recalls. Another club, Yin Yang (also known as YY), would later open, but was also off-limits to those who didn't qualify for a membership.

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Meanwhile, the persecution continued. In 1981, police officer John Maclennan was found dead at home with five gunshot wounds hours before he was to stand trial for gross indecency. Suicide was the initial conclusion, and one that the Police stood by. But others smelled foul play. The court would later rule the cause of death inconclusive, but the incident propelled the government to decriminalize buggery and male homosexual sex (albeit setting the age of consent at 21 and above), not to triumph gay rights, but to stop the witch-hunt in its administration. And in practicality, it changed very little. "People who wanted to have sex were having sex anyway, no one gave a shit," Reurs says.

But still, the decriminalization seemed to inject a new energy into the gay community. Gay groups began to mushroom, ending the isolation of Hong Kong Ten Percent Club, established in 1985 by Canadian-educated doctor Alan Li. A counseling hotline for lesbians and gays was later established by HORIZONS, founded by late Barrie Brandon and a group of audacious volunteers, providing an outlet for the closeted souls to blow off steam anonymously. Many Ten Percent members would also later start their own groups, including the first women's group QueerSisters, and religious gay groups such as Blessed Minority Christian Fellowship and Isvara, a Buddhist gay group that's now defunct. The Gay and Lesbian Film Festival, founded by choreographer and playwright Edward Lam in the late 80's, also picked up in popularity.

There were also changes in "the scene". Another initial would become big: PP, a.k.a. Propaganda. Its opening in 1992, as Reurs puts it, "changed everything." Not only was it bigger and flashier than it predecessors, it was also less secretive and insular, bringing gay clubbing out of the underground and closer to the mainstream. Although DD and YY later failed the test of time and folded, the gay scene saw a boom in 1997. People were apparently overjoyed that Beijing didn't come crushing down the gay community after the handover, and sleek gay bars started to open one after one. PP relocated to a new space and made its old location a pre-hour club. More gay groups also established.

Something has never changed, however, for with all the new openness the beneficiaries remain to be the elites. If you are poor and aging without a college degree, being gay in Hong Kong is just about as easy as being a woman married to a Taliban. For one you most certainly have to veil your sexual orientation at work, because, heaven forbids, if you're fired from your job for being gay, tough luck, the law just isn't there to protect you. And without extra cash to burn, your social life is limited to small chitchat sessions held by gay groups, or the toilets. To add insult to jury, even if you make it to those gay groups' sessions, whether you make any friends depends largely on your looks.

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This is something that frustrates Janiver Lam a lot. She was among the few who were holding the fort at Ten Percent in the 80's, but looking back she sees very few changes having taken place. "What movement? I haven't seen anything moved," she fumes. Derick Tam, Lam's long-time friend and a 38-year-old legal professional, agrees. "Tolerance towards homosexuals might have risen, but there is very little acceptance," he says. Tam was among one of the very first volunteers of HORIZONS.

Both Lam and Tam feel that the flourishing bar scene has very little to offer to the betterment of gays. "They are just entertainment business," Tam says, while Lam nods. Even the conglomerate of gay groups isn't making much of a difference. "The tactic they employ now is to march whenever they feel like, without knowing what they are really doing," Lam observes. The groups, Tam adds, have also succeeded very little in bettering the community's mentality. "There is no improvement as far as [gays'] self-acceptance goes, and the pride [among the gay community] is very low," he says.

Despite the prevalent inequality imbedded in the system, very few in the community seem to care as long as they can still drink, shag and party. Political apathy continues to rule. Of course this is hardly surprising for a city that once existed for 150 years as a colony, and where demonstrations and squabbling politicians are still relatively new phenomena. But while even grannies in Hong Kong demonstrate when the government proposes to cut welfare, most gays stay largely quiet when their civil rights are violated. Although a few gay groups have stepped up with lobbying, demonstrations and publicity stunts, they have effected very little practical changes in the government's policy.

Some have pointed finger at successful gay businesses such as Propaganda for making so much money off the gay population but giving back very little to the community. But Steve Khouw, a co-owner of PP, rebuts that saying by counting out many gay charity events his place has supported, among them gay stage dramas by retired gay playwright Jimmy Kwok. "We are not political, but when it comes to sponsoring charity work, I don't see how other places have done more. I think it's because we're the big brother [in gay business], people always expect more from us," he says. Khouw maintains that PP's role is to continue providing a physical place for gays to meet. "People complain that our prices are high, but it's important for us to run a viable business and maintain continuity. Customers of 10 years can meet new customers, and old friends can also reunite here."

Even Lam and Tam would agree that the blame is not on the bars and clubs. "They should exist, but as places to gather only," Lam adds. To actually make a difference, she feels that gay groups need to start getting their acts together. "There is no master plan, nor any vision [with the gay groups]," she laments. "What I want to see is equality, my rights to visit my lover of 30 years as a family member when she's sick in the hospital."

Whether you think Hong Kong has come a long way or not, there is certainly still a long way to go.