"I am a woman who loves women. The tears I cry, they spring from a river and drain across my face like egg yolk," author Qiu Miaojin wrote in her 1994 book Notes of a Crocodile, about a Lesbian student at National Taiwan University in late 1980s Taipei navigating her coming out, toxic Queer relationships, and social isolation. The story's heroine meets a tragic end, much like the author herself, who sadly took her own life only a year after its publication.
But much has changed for the LGBTQIA+ people of Taiwan since Qiu's time. Now considered one of the most socially progressive countries in the region, it was one of the first to pass antidiscrimination protections as well as legalize Gay marriage back in 2019.
Taipei has one of the most vibrant nightlife scenes in the world, offering a vast array of late-night markets, eateries, music venues, and of course Gay bars. With accessible public transit and no laws against drinking in public spaces, it is immensely difficult not to spend every available moment outside, roaming the city's streets alongside friends.
Similarly to Qiu's book, I came to experience my own Queer journey, with its own woes and triumphs, while living in Taipei for a year and working as a writer and English teacher at a public elementary school.
Stepping off the plane again
A lot of different life circumstances culminated in the decision to leave Seattle for Taipei a year and a half ago. I had always been a huge fan of Chinese culture growing up. As a kid, I watched cartoons like Sagwa, The Chinese Siamese Cat and Jackie Chan Adventures on Saturday morning, begging my grandma during to take me out to the local Chinese buffet in Yakima. At 15, I taught myself how to make chow mein from a YouTube tutorial, kicking off a lifelong obsession with Chinese food and cooking. At university, I studied Chinese history and language, spending two summers abroad, first in Hangzhou, China, the next in Taipei at Chengchi University through the DC-based program American Councils.
That first Taipei trip had a huge impact on my coming out experience. Forming friendships with some of the girls in my cohort became the partial catalyst for me realizing at age 21 that I was, in fact, a Transgender woman, and they would be among the first I came out to (hooray for the power of having girlfriends!). That journey began during my senior year, only a couple months after the trip had concluded. After a few more years of grad school, gender transition logistics, and COVID-19 lockdown restrictions, I became increasingly restless about getting to live in Asia again.
The opportunity finally came one day when a Taiwanese education company reached out for an interview. At 11 p.m. Pacific, I delivered a five-minute teaching demo and answered a few questions regarding credentials. A couple of days later, I was sent a conditional job offer to come work in Taipei, with a full-year contract and work visa.
Stepping off the plane again at Taoyuan International Airport with a new name and gender marker on my passport was a surreal moment; it felt like I was about to experience the country all over again for the first time, but as the new me.
The ambiance
Step out of any Taipei MRT station, and you will be warmly greeted by a cacophony of sights, sounds, and aromas beckoning you to explore the city just a little further. To say it is "bustling" would simply be an understatement, as Taipei is as densely packed a metropolis as they come. Hordes of vehicles pollute the arterials of the city center. Alleyways and sidewalks are filled to the brim with parked motorbikes as pedestrians snake their way through the gaps to their next destination.
The daytime heat and humidity force most to seek refuge in the air-conditioned halls of large shopping centers like SOGO and Taipei City Mall. It is no wonder that boba tea was invented in these conditions, as the subtropical climate necessitates the constant need for iced, sugary treats.
The city is well renowned for its food scene, yet there are so many local delicacies that go underappreciated by visitors. Much of the traditional culture of Taipei revolves around its food stalls and night markets, each of which has its different characteristics. But common fare includes blood rice cakes 血米糟, oyster omelets 蚵仔煎, pepper buns 胡椒餅, sweet potato balls 地瓜球, guàbāo (pork belly buns) 掛包, and stinky tofu 臭豆腐. One of my favorite traditional desserts is called dòuhuā 豆花, in which delicate tender tofu is accompanied by toppings like syrupy blanched peanuts, red beans, black sesame paste, or brown sugar boba.
Teaching as a foreigner
The relatively low cost of living plus the high demand for English teachers attracts expats from around the world looking for a little adventure and a change of pace. My colleagues came from the US and several other countries, including the UK, Australia, Belize, Singapore, and Canada. A chunk of us were some flavor of LGBTQIA+ and in our twenties or thirties too, making for lots of group chats, hangouts, and excursions.
One of the first off-the-clock get-togethers was at something called rèchǎo 熱炒. This is more than just a banquet-style food affair, but a Taiwanese institution in which roadside hovels are packed with large groups that sit around massive tables fitted with a lazy Susan. Everyone sips on small shot glasses of Taiwan Beer and nibbles at their rice bowls as staff bring out plate after plate of stir-fried meats and veggies for the table. Rèchǎo is usually a celebratory affair for friends, family and/or coworkers to commemorate a special occasion or birthday by sharing a late-night meal. Going out to rèchǎo, especially with local friends, is one of the most quintessentially Taiwanese things to do.
My assigned elementary school was located in a neighborhood where conservative Kuomintang politicians and affluent business people lived. Despite how friendly and hospitable the coworkers at my host school were, as I was their first-ever foreign English teacher, I quickly got the sense that LGBTQIA+-related topics were taboo.
There was only one instance when I tried to broach the topic, in a conversation with my coworker who I became closest with during one of our weekly lunch outings at a café. I told her that I was excited to begin writing articles about Taiwan for the SGN, but I could tell by the reaction in her face that the insinuation of me writing for an LGBTQIA+ publication made her feel uncomfortable.
She and many other staff and students expressed conservative beliefs about gender norms, like boys are not supposed to have long hair or play with dolls. We remained friends after that day, but I was to stay completely closeted about my Queerness in the workplace for the rest of the school year.
The LGBTQIA+ scene
Overall, Taipei is an incredibly safe city to be Queer and a woman. I did not encounter difficulties being vocally out with friends in social and public settings. October is Pride Month in Taiwan, dating back to the days of authoritarian rule, when Pride was disguised under the pretense of Halloween to fend off the violence of the police.
For Taipei Pride 2023, the front of the city hall was inundated with vendors selling gender-affirming clothes, leather gear, adult toys, Pride merch, and much more. Many came out to join the accompanying march. It felt so amazing to be a part of another country's Pride celebration, where the right to freedom of expression has been hard-fought.
The Gay and Lesbian bars of the city bring their own energy to the scene. One night, my group all met for a friend's birthday party at a venue called Barcade that was hosting a "Seven Deadly Sins"- themed drag night. The lineup was composed of both local and foreign performers, but primarily kings such as Uncle Southside. During his performance as the sin of sloth, he utterly lampooned a Taipei politician for being a stuffy conservative shill. Another one of the kings, who played "wrath" as an evangelical Southern missionary turned Gay hedonist, even got a thigh tattoo done live on stage by another drag performer.
Then there is also Café Dalida, located in Taipei's historic Queer district of Ximen and owned by Gay elder Alvin Chang. In his life, Chang hosted and was the mother to many a Taipei drag queen. Dalida is where RuPaul's Drag Race season 16 winner Nymphia Wind got her start performing; the bar hosted watch parties, and I attended a few. (I also had the good fortune to interview Chang about Nymphia's rise to stardom and historic win for the SGN last year [https://www.sgn.org/story.php?333246])
Living in Taipei was a rejuvenating experience that saw so many aspects of my life come full circle. Other obligations ended up bringing me back to the US instead of staying another year, but I gladly would have under different circumstances. I believe Taipei is still often an overlooked destination for many LGBTQIA+ travelers who prefer going to Japan or Thailand, but if you are planning a trip to the region, give it a chance. It will not disappoint!
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