I am turning 30 tomorrow. And while I have never really felt or looked my age, the last few days have all been about reflection. Just what have I accomplished in my life? What do I want to do next? What do I want now? Seems like the older you get the less clear your goals and ambitions become; and the more clouded your judgment and decision-making get.
I am turning 30 tomorrow, and there’s a big void in my heart. I don’t have a best friend; I don’t have any really close friends, and it’s near impossible to get anyone to come out to do anything with me. I’ve lived in Vancouver for 19 years and still haven’t found someone I call close. I feel like I don’t belong here. I am a product of immigration, amalgamating cultures, and discrimination. English isn’t my mother tongue and I am not taught to think critically for myself. But when I’m back in Taiwan the locals can tell I am ‘foreign’ just by the way I dress! So I am nowhere and here, stuck in between one homeland and the next.
10 days of working the Vancouver Queer Film Festival have never made me feel so close to being a part of my community yet so lonely. No one besides the staff working at the office knows who I am, because the nature of my job is always behind the scenes. While I enjoy the solitude of my job, I also resent the fact that I remain mostly anonymous. I don’t have a name tag, I don’t have friends, I don’t exist if I don’t show up. I don’t have a QPOC community to which I belong; I don’t have any QPOC friends who shows up for me other times of the year. Once the festival ends I don’t see any of my festival ‘friends’ until the next year. I often volunteer to stay at work later than I need to because I have nothing to come home to, or friends to hang out with if I depart early. Nothing is home except my insanity and the occasional guitar music therapy.
I am turning 30 tomorrow, and I am a queer woman of colour. There. I said it. Checking all the boxes. But that doesn’t make me more memorable than the other white boys on a work shift. No one recognizes or remembers who I am even though we’ve worked together or crossed paths numerous times. I remember who they are, why don’t they remember who I am? Do I have a very forgettable face? Do the things I say not have any weight? Why do I have to keep re-introducing myself? I am practically invisible.
I am turning 30 tomorrow, and I wish I could celebrate with my family. I can’t believe I’ve lived without my dad for 11 years now. Where did the time go? Am I stuck at age 19 from the trauma and shock of losing my father? Would he have been okay with me being into women? Would he have fought with my mom in disagreement over accepting who I am? Would he have been on my side? Would he have defended or disowned me? Would he have shared relationship advice – because that’s all I think about when I encounter difficult situations in relationships? Would he have performed Peking Opera again, just for my amusement? Or maybe we could have worked on a show together? He was definitely the best at giving advice though, and I know that when I turn 30 soon he would have said something wise.
Well, here’s to turning 30: fatherless, friend-less, and hopeless.
Where's My Dime? 