pains-of-lgbtq-in-sg

[pains-of-lgbtq-in-sg]

2 Oct 2021, 06:23

As a kid, before I knew who I was, I used to hear others talk about Gay Rights. And it confused me why gays had to have rights, when we don’t go around talking about heterosexual rights. And each time I would be no closer to a conclusion and would shelf that thought away again until the next time it popped up uninvited.

I was just who I was. A kid. A regular kid. A regular kid who enjoyed sports and being in shirts and pants because then no one would keep hounding me to sit with my legs “closed.” I hated the long hair my mother wanted me to keep. It made me warm in humid Singapore, was always messy, and was a chore to dry after each shower. From every practical standpoint, skirts and long hair made no sense to me. My mother was a girly-girl, who wanted her girls to learn the piano, dress in skirts and have long ponytails. Sadly, other than the piano, I was a huge disappointment to her.

I had always been an old soul in a young body. Everything had to make practical sense or I would have a hard time accepting it. Growing up, school was hard for an old soul like me. Kids everywhere seemed childish, and my best friends were books, which could help me escape reality, even if just for a while.

When I got older, I was happy to join the workforce, where I thought I’d be around mature adults, and my world would start to make more sense to me. Boy, was I in for a shocker. I had not realized that common sense was not common, basic courtesy was not basic, and ownership and accountability were not owned by many. I also learned that ethics and integrity counted for nothing when you were in sales and in the Insurance industry dominated by ruthless managers. After 6 years watching those honest fall, and those merciless soar, I dragged my sorry ass back to school, hoping and praying grad school would be different.

That’s where I met her. I remember that first day of introductions, when she sat at my 2 o’clock. I remember her introducing herself from country ABC and having hobbies in culinary and photography. I remember our class having to walk to the library for a school tour after, and me sidling up to her side as the lights turned red where we waiting to cross the road. I oh-so-casually looked at the birds on the tree above, the old guy taking a smoke just a distance away, and then finally, just nonchalantly turned to her and said, “Hi, so you’re into photography too? What’s your favorite camera?”

And that was the start of our last 4 sweet years together. During school breaks that 1st year, we took trips to Bangkok and Australia, and school took us to more trips in U.S., Switzerland, and Italy. We were young, and everything was rosy. We took budget planes for just 2 to 3 days out of Singapore on a whim, and did budget road trips for weeks, just booking the following nights’ accommodation as we went along. We visited her family in country ABC and took them on their first road trips to different states, and those improved her parents’ estranged relationship as well. At that time, we made do, living out of her tiny common room rental for 850 a month, in a small condo unit shared by (officially) 5 other housemates. 2 guys were in the master bedroom, a girl in a similar common room, a guy in the bomb shelter and a girl in the kitchen storeroom (where the last two had no windows and therefore, kept their doors open every night). I was her regular “secret” guest, and the neighboring room always had her boyfriend over.

That place was a nightmare. The room was tiny, fitted with a queen bed, a 0.4m x 1m wide study desk, a simple foldable IKEA chair, and a narrow (1.5m high) two panel wardrobe. With all the furniture against the 4 walls of the room, there was only a 0.5m walkway between the door and bed, and bed and wardrobe + study desk. (Think how you couldn’t even pull the chair all the way out to sit at the desk!) Luckily, she only brought one suitcase with her, and that had nowhere else to go except to be balanced precariously on top of the flimsy wardrobe held up by duct tape. There were tiny bugs constantly on the headboard of the bed, the walls, and the sides of the wardrobe, and squishing them only left small dots of red on the wood and paint.

After school ended, we both found basic jobs in the financial sector, earning basic salaries (3k each) that were barely enough to cover rent and the 50 grand of study debts. We lived simple lives on her culinary skills and moved out to a slightly bigger place (with no bugs!) as soon as the previous rental contract ended. Deciding on a small studio in the far areas of Western Singapore was hard when we only had a budget of about $1500 for rental. Fortunately for us, heaven smiled down on us during our search. I will never forget the moment we signed on the line to rent that new place, and the pure elation on her face mirrored my emotions the first day we wheeled her luggage through the door. We were both so overwhelmed that we just stood in the middle of the completely unfurnished unit, just turning around and around to look at the “huge” space we now had. The landlord was kind enough to provide us the keys 7 days before New Year’s Day, and we enjoyed our first homecooked Christmas dinner there. Just 400 square feet of luxurious blessing (including our very own bathroom).

2018 to 2019, we were happy. As happy as can be. If Singapore allowed, I would have married that girl, and made her my wife. I knew that I wanted her around, through thick and thin, bugs and all, for as long as I could. But because we couldn’t, we tried to apply for PR for her. Twice. And failed twice. Despite everything, we were happy. She enjoyed her work and colleagues, and I had a job I enjoyed, in a decent company, with great colleagues and a great leader. Everyday, time seemed to fly by as I get so engrossed in picking up new experiences and knowledge at work. And at the end of each day, I was happiest, running to catch the bus that would take me the few short stops to her office, and we would head home together.

2020, the world went crazy. When Covid-19 started, nobody took it seriously. When they finally did, it was too late. Singapore being small, seemed to put its economy before citizens’ health, and pretty soon, we saw new policies introduced so fast and furious, it was hard to keep up. Racism escalated real fast as fear grew. Everyone’s primal survival instinct kicked in, took over, and overwhelmed. We saw hoarding like never before, where previous proud displays of extravagance in the form of luxury goods, were replaced by flaunting of overstocked pantries of unnecessarily excessive daily necessities. Households storing shelves of toilet paper and rice, splashed out on social media, instigated herd mentality, and created dangerous vicious cycles. It was at this time that our rental contract was due for renewal, and because of travel restrictions, we saw a larger than usual demand for rental property. We saw increased negative correlation between our salaries and expenses but still, we were thankful for just having each other.

Unfortunately, fate reared its cruel head, giving us first-hand experience of Murphy’s law. Her father was diagnosed with cancer towards the end of the year, and that was the start of the end of the improving relationship between her parents. Both our companies also underwent major restructuring that year. Coincidently, both companies started offshoring parts of operation to neighboring country XYZ. And it seemed ridiculous then, because the number of Covid-19 cases in that country was heading north at breakneck speed. Every single day, more than half of both of our offshore teams were on medical, hospital or compassionate leave. Work was not getting completed, and to make things worse, both offshore teams seemed to have the same zero accountability and pride in their work. Every day was a mental torture to engage them in their finger-pointing, others-blaming games, even when evidence of their negligence was staring at them point-blank in the face.

Having a slightly better command of English than her, I took it in my stride facing these “Taichi experts.” But when my boss (that I had a huge respect for) lost his job due to the restructuring (and workplace politics), I started looking out. I was fortunate enough to be able to land another opportunity and left.

Her job was harder hit. Her team now had to rely on the offshore team to finish the daily BAU wok before Singapore team could check and sign off. I remember when she first joined, she was trained for a month before she caught up with the daily deadlines and managed to complete the day’s checks by 5pm daily. Somehow, their XYZ offshore team were still exceeding all deadlines by a wide margin (with massive amounts of repeated errors, which they would then trigger new blame games), causing the Singapore Team to finish their checks (and “fights”) and call it an end mostly after 10pm.

While barely keeping her sanity at work, watching her constantly forcing a smile to comfort her mother, who was struggling with a self-centered patient exploiting his illness, I saw the bags under her eyes gain prominence over the months. We tried desperately to find a new suitable job for her, as her initial Singapore team of almost 30 (mostly seniors with more than 10 years’ experience) dwindled to the last 5 of them. During this time, her mouth struggled to maintain its curve upwards, and it was heart-wrenching to witness the glimmer of hope fade from her eyes. I knew she missed her mother, as Covid-19 prevented us from traveling back to see her. I knew she was not enjoying her “new” role at work, working with the XYZ team. But my hands were tied. I begged everyone and anyone I knew to look out for any suitable job willing to consider a foreigner. It was a losing battle.

After 8 months, she started applying outside of Singapore as well, thinking to leave it to fate. Shortly, a call from ABC country offered her an interview. Things went fast, and in a few short weeks, they were extending an offer, with one condition, that being she was to board the first available plane back after completing her notice period.

I was crushed. I knew I couldn’t make her choose me (and continuing working with XYZ team), but suddenly I felt like I had been told I have just one more month to live. My life, as I knew it, was ending in just 4 very short weeks. We both knew her current job in its current form, was destroying her mental health, and I couldn’t bear to keep her here like that.

After the initial roller coaster of emotions calmed down, we strategized, trying to accommodate all the local places we had always talked about visiting, with the packing and shipping of her stuff.

Today marks the 33rd day she is not by my side, and all this time, I have been trying not to be cynical when considering the factors that contributed to our current situation. Days and nights blur into one, as I try tirelessly to find myself a job in country ABC, hoping against hope that we may soon reunite.