This is a poem scrawled in my journal from the upper berth of a hard sleeper carriage aboard the Kunming-Chengdu slow train on 1 February 2015.
There are Times
gets all a bit much.
in the opposite direction.
Yes, there are times.
Especially Chinese people.
too?
and hair like an ashtray
Chinese.
cares.
(SOCIALISM and everyone for them-fucking-selves or get the fuck out the way)
to go home.
you.
an invisibility cloak.
an invisibility cloak.
down on you
with noise cancelling headphones.
on my face.
to yourself.
to myself.
Postface:
In the winter of Jan/Feb 2015, I set it upon myself to backpack alone through the largely rural, undeveloped provinces of Guizhou and Guangxi with the goal of travelling overland from Chengdu to Guangzhou and reunite with my Por Por’s family for Chinese New Year. During this journey, I experienced what I can only describe as an emotional break down – I’d never felt so anxious, trapped or confused in my entire life. I didn’t know where to go, what to do, or where I could go to make myself feel okay. It was an internal, gripping terror tied up with issues of my Chinese, foreign and queer identity.
I found myself in a toxic hostel environment where I was alienated by a group of travellers from all over China, bullied about my Mandarin and laughed at behind my back. In retrospect, they were just ignorant Chinese tourists, but it really felt like rock bottom. I couldn’t believe how badly it had gotten to me, but once you are in that head space nothing feels more real. I escaped (somewhat dramatically) by taking a train 21 hours in the opposite direction, to avoid being tracked to Guangzhou by them. I stayed in Kunming for a few days before returning home to Chengdu and seeking a return to some kind of emotional normality. With the support of friends and family, I slowly emerged from beneath the dark cloud and began to feel better again. After losing all self confidence, I gradually started to try my Mandarin again, and yes, made the journey to Guangzhou.
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