Safe Space

December 14th, 2019 

I am in Petaling Jaya, Kuala Lumpur. I find myself in the upper part of Merdekarya, a space usually reserved for live independent music. They serve tuak sangria, a RM14 drink made of indigenous Malaysian rice wine in the style of the Spanish cocktail. I consume them liberally, and I watch nervously as the crowd pours in, who are so noticeably queer. Some of them wear fetish-associated leather costumes. Gender norms are not really a thing here.

My friend, Iman, brought me here. Her friends are part of it. One of them, Rita, turns out to be one of the MCs. Then the show starts. 

pic: Kaye

Nose, as it's called, is a live variety show by and for the LGBTQIA+ community in Kuala Lumpur. That night we saw drag queens and faux queens, poets, comedians, musicians, and activists. That night I left Merdekarya feeling rejuvenated, inspired by just how hyped and supportive everyone was. It left me wanting to relocate to KL and be a part of this incredible community.

I came back to Brunei, feeling a little lost and sad. I wanted that feeling of belonging again, and I couldn't help but think I was destined to find that in KL.

Then I started, by a long chain of events, hosting parties in my house in Jerudong again after so many years.

We partied basically every weekend in the first three months of 2020. New Year's made sure we started it with a bang. 

The parties became smaller in terms of number of people, but what came with it was a closer, more intimate, safer environment, where people genuinely connected, and I saw the best versions of people even in their most intoxicated state. 

People are loving. People are kind. Or at the very least, this people.

It took me a while to realise that it's not just that we gathered the best people. It was also a space that made people be comfortable as themselves. It was a space where people felt fearless, bold, and open to anything, while at the same time letting themselves be vulnerable and empathetic. 

Then I moved. Not by choice, to a smaller space with less privacy, meaning that those kinds of parties were not as feasible, and would have to be much smaller.

I started having queer nights with friends, where often we would just drink and talk about our queer experiences and thoughts. It is a small one at the moment, which resulted in intimate conversations that often consisted of things we don't ever talk to other people about. Some people admitted things about themselves they barely even admitted to themselves, let alone other people. 

It was a safe space. Feelings and experiences were validated, and exploration was encouraged. Often these conversations would go on all the way to the early mornings, to sunrise. 

Recently, I realised that this was what everything was leading up to. I wanted to provide a safe space for people. I always have been. This time I had a focus though. 

I want to provide for queer people. I want to connect the queer community even more, who just a few years ago felt so disconnected and scattered. I want to build support networks and resources. 

Maha and I talked about having a queer house in the future, where we take in young queers who may find themselves displaced and abandoned because of their queerness. We want to organise drag shows and queer performers. We want a place where queers can come to connect with other queers.

For the longest time, I had no real long-term ambition, no real life goal at the end of the tunnel. This changed that.

It's still a new idea in my head, and I'm still figuring out what that means, and how will I go on achieving it, but it's given me a refreshed sense of the future. 

Let's hope 2021 will be a year that will bring me closer to that.