Tuesday, July 11, 2006
Seagulls? In a Landlocked Country?
With my introduction to Alexei, slowly began my introduction to what is gay in Uzbekistan. And actually, there are so many things that are similar in both countries. Seems like just like in the US, a lot of gays in Uzbekistan have a “girlfriend” or a “fag-hag.” In fact, they have a special name for it as well – they call such girls a “chaika” or a seagull and I don't know why. However, it seems like the common wisdom here is that a gay guy is a straight girl’s best friend and vice-versa. I suppose that wisdom was passed on here and announced through the American movies that were very popular when I was leaving the US – like “My Best Friend’s Wedding,” or “The Next Best Thing,” which were popular imports in Uzbekistan.
The TV show “Will and Grace” didn’t cross with the rest of the American dreck that made it there, (Baywatch, for example is huge), but when I did bring the collected first and second seasons, it seems that my local English-speaking friends would watch it and dream about the way their lives could be, had they lived somewhere else in the world. Just like the local, more progressive Uzbek women I knew would feel, when they would watch the midnight showing of “Sex and the City” on the Russian satellite channels, dreaming of how their life would have, could have been, had things been different and an accident of cruel fate had not made them be born in Uzbekistan.
I never came out to any Uzbeks, ever. They could think what they wanted about me, I even know of some cases after several years of being there where some girls had asked a close American friend of mine -- let's call her Gertrude -- because I always seemed to be attending social functions with young attractive men around me. Men never brought up the issue to me, even gay men I knew who were not open with their sexuality, probably because the topic just has too much taboo attached to it. But I will talk more about my Uzbek closet later.
The only time I ever said to someone that I was gay was to this girl Lena. And I was really drunk at the time and I was in between a rock and a hard place. Let me explain. Lena was a somewhat plump, loud and alcoholic girl who was born in Tashkent, but had married some small, skinny, and rich British fellow (who I had never seen) and lived in Highland Park with him. But she was back in Tashkent visiting her family and hanging out with her friend Kristina, who, at the time was dating a friend of mine who was working for one of the foreign embassies in Tashkent.
We all went out one night to a nightclub, and as we were the only people in our little group without a partner or date, we danced together, drank together – she could drink me under the table easily, and we had a really pleasant time. I did begin to worry, however that this was the kind of woman who devours men and of course, as I suspected, she asked me if I’d go home with her.
“I can’t, ” I said. “I’m gay,” I blurted out, drunken and realizing that this was a bit risky and that she could possibly unmask me before a crowded nightclub and I might be running for my life to the airport to home to safe haven from a mob wanting blood. But I just really didn’t want to have to sleep with her to save my skin. I held my breath, fearing her response. But, in the end what a relief. “I’m so happy,” she said. “All my friends are gay. All my friends in Tashkent, in London, in Moscow. They are all gay. This is so great. This means that we can be friends.”
I later would have some really crazy adventures around Tashkent with Lena, all of which involved lots of alcohol. ¶ 5:50 AM
With my introduction to Alexei, slowly began my introduction to what is gay in Uzbekistan. And actually, there are so many things that are similar in both countries. Seems like just like in the US, a lot of gays in Uzbekistan have a “girlfriend” or a “fag-hag.” In fact, they have a special name for it as well – they call such girls a “chaika” or a seagull and I don't know why. However, it seems like the common wisdom here is that a gay guy is a straight girl’s best friend and vice-versa. I suppose that wisdom was passed on here and announced through the American movies that were very popular when I was leaving the US – like “My Best Friend’s Wedding,” or “The Next Best Thing,” which were popular imports in Uzbekistan.
The TV show “Will and Grace” didn’t cross with the rest of the American dreck that made it there, (Baywatch, for example is huge), but when I did bring the collected first and second seasons, it seems that my local English-speaking friends would watch it and dream about the way their lives could be, had they lived somewhere else in the world. Just like the local, more progressive Uzbek women I knew would feel, when they would watch the midnight showing of “Sex and the City” on the Russian satellite channels, dreaming of how their life would have, could have been, had things been different and an accident of cruel fate had not made them be born in Uzbekistan.
I never came out to any Uzbeks, ever. They could think what they wanted about me, I even know of some cases after several years of being there where some girls had asked a close American friend of mine -- let's call her Gertrude -- because I always seemed to be attending social functions with young attractive men around me. Men never brought up the issue to me, even gay men I knew who were not open with their sexuality, probably because the topic just has too much taboo attached to it. But I will talk more about my Uzbek closet later.
The only time I ever said to someone that I was gay was to this girl Lena. And I was really drunk at the time and I was in between a rock and a hard place. Let me explain. Lena was a somewhat plump, loud and alcoholic girl who was born in Tashkent, but had married some small, skinny, and rich British fellow (who I had never seen) and lived in Highland Park with him. But she was back in Tashkent visiting her family and hanging out with her friend Kristina, who, at the time was dating a friend of mine who was working for one of the foreign embassies in Tashkent.
We all went out one night to a nightclub, and as we were the only people in our little group without a partner or date, we danced together, drank together – she could drink me under the table easily, and we had a really pleasant time. I did begin to worry, however that this was the kind of woman who devours men and of course, as I suspected, she asked me if I’d go home with her.
“I can’t, ” I said. “I’m gay,” I blurted out, drunken and realizing that this was a bit risky and that she could possibly unmask me before a crowded nightclub and I might be running for my life to the airport to home to safe haven from a mob wanting blood. But I just really didn’t want to have to sleep with her to save my skin. I held my breath, fearing her response. But, in the end what a relief. “I’m so happy,” she said. “All my friends are gay. All my friends in Tashkent, in London, in Moscow. They are all gay. This is so great. This means that we can be friends.”
I later would have some really crazy adventures around Tashkent with Lena, all of which involved lots of alcohol. ¶ 5:50 AM
