This past Sunday wasn’t the first time that Chi Chia-wei (祁家威) attended the New York City Pride March. He participated in 1994, 1997 and again in 1999 during a different period in the struggle for gay rights.
But for many Taiwanese Americans and overseas Taiwanese, including members of New York’s LGBTQ community, this year’s parade in Manhattan held added significance, with Taiwan’s Constitutional Court ruling in May in favor of same-sex marriage.
Chi, a 59-year-old gay-rights activist at the forefront of that battle, said it felt great to come to New York City and be part of the annual event, which made him an honoree this year.
Photo courtesy of Liu Shun-ping
“Taiwan is... a very small country,” he said in Mandarin during an interview ahead of the parade. “But everyone is so concerned with and paying attention to the development of gay rights in Taiwan, so I think it’s wonderful.”
Chi was among the more than 40,000 marchers expected to traverse the 3.4-kilometer route under sunny skies in Manhattan. Also in attendance were Taiwanese Americans who raised nearly US$13,000 through a crowdfunding platform called GoFundMe to pay expenses for their own float and to bring over Chi from Taiwan.
HERITAGE OF PRIDE
Photo courtesy of Liu Shun-ping
As an honoree, Chi was invited to ride the Heritage of Pride float at the head of the parade as onlookers waved rainbow flags. He later joined the Taiwan float farther back, led by a line of marchers holding up block letters in the colors of the rainbow flag that spelled “Taiwan.”
Participants also used the occasion to promote Taiwan’s own pride parade in late October, the largest in Asia.
Sunday’s crowd size wasn’t immediately known, though last year’s march attracted 2.3 million people, according to organizers.
Photo courtesy of Liu Shun-ping
Those who came out to show their support cheered as the Taiwan group made its way down the parade route. Liu Wen (劉文), one of the participants, estimated around 200 people joined Taiwan’s float.
“I saw a lot of not only queer folks but also straight Taiwanese friends who came this year, so it was a really exciting and touching moment for me to see everyone together,” Liu said.
But even on the heels of Taiwan’s marriage-equality ruling, Liu said she felt a sense of conflict about the celebratory atmosphere, having lived in the US for a number of years.
“I think we do have the right to [celebrate] because we fought for this for a very long time,” Liu said. “But the more American part of me also worries [if it is] the right moment to do it in the US, especially in New York, when there’s a lot of violence happening around people of color.”
New York’s annual pride parade, in its 48th year, traces its roots to the Stonewall Riots of June 1969. That was when patrons of the Stonewall Inn, a popular gay bar in Manhattan’s Greenwich Village, fought back against police who were conducting a raid.
That unrest and the ensuing demonstrations are credited with launching the modern struggle for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender civil rights in America.
POLITICS AND PROTEST
Politics at times tinged the tenor of Sunday’s parade, with some marchers directing harsh words toward US President Donald Trump, a target of ire for some in the LGBTQ community. Unlike former President Barack Obama, a Democrat, Trump had not yet issued a proclamation this year for pride month, celebrated in June.
There were also protests. At one point at least one group of marchers sat down and blocked the parade route until police moved in. They were part of what appeared to be an anti-police demonstration. Those participants were eventually placed in handcuffs and ushered away.
Taiwanese marchers had much to be proud of and happy about this year. Among them was Hsu Bor-cheng (許伯丞), a Taiwanese-American community organizer who spearheaded the float fundraiser.
He said he learned about New York City’s pride parade in the early 2000s through his lesbian friends who marched in it. Hsu helped them make banners and T-shirts, he said, and later thought about ways of bulking up turnout among Taiwanese Americans.
Before this weekend, Taiwanese had floats in the parade in 2010 and again in 2016, according to Hsu. This year’s, adorned with rainbow flags featuring the outline of the nation in the center, was a big upgrade thanks to successful fundraising efforts, Hsu said.
He added there were other dimensions to their participation as well.
“We know that Taiwan is excluded by the international community and organizations,” Hsu said. “But that does not prevent Taiwan from advancing herself in terms of human rights, and especially the rights of LGBTs.”
On the minds of many marchers was the court ruling in late May that turned the tide on marriage equality in Taiwan.
Nearly two years after the US Supreme Court legalized same-sex marriage, Taiwan’s grand justices found that provisions of the nation’s constitution violated guarantees of freedom of marriage and the right to equality. As a result, the judges gave the legislature two years to amend the relevant laws.
If they are not changed within that time, same-sex couples will be permitted to register their unions at household registration offices, Judicial Yuan Secretary-General Lu Tai-lang (呂太郎) has said.
Chi was one of the petitioners in that court case, fighting tenaciously for more than 30 years for marriage equality in Taiwan. For the younger generation, like 30-year-old Chuang Cheng-huai, who didn’t give the Chinese characters for his name because his parents don’t know that he is gay, Chi is a trailblazer for all of Taiwan.
“If he wasn’t the first person to do this, it probably still wouldn’t happen today,” said Chuang, a fashion designer who owns a boutique in Manhattan.
Chi acknowledged his importance as an inspirational figure for younger Taiwanese.
“I was originally afraid that these people, when they were young, would look at me as if I was some ogre,” he said. “But they said when they were young they knew they were gay, so they didn’t see me like that. They appreciated and admired me.”
Liu said activists in Taiwan are also thinking about matters beyond marriage equality, including transgender rights and youth sex education, even as pockets of opposition to same-sex marriage still exist.
“I do think that the Stonewall spirit is in part of the Taiwanese activists’ mind,” she said.
“Hopefully in two years if things works out right...we can work on more diverse issues,” Liu added.
In recent weeks the Trump Administration has been demanding that Taiwan transfer half of its chip manufacturing to the US. In an interview with NewsNation, US Secretary of Commerce Howard Lutnick said that the US would need 50 percent of domestic chip production to protect Taiwan. He stated, discussing Taiwan’s chip production: “My argument to them was, well, if you have 95 percent, how am I gonna get it to protect you? You’re going to put it on a plane? You’re going to put it on a boat?” The stench of the Trump Administration’s mafia-style notions of “protection” was strong
Every now and then, it’s nice to just point somewhere on a map and head out with no plan. In Taiwan, where convenience reigns, food options are plentiful and people are generally friendly and helpful, this type of trip is that much easier to pull off. One day last November, a spur-of-the-moment day hike in the hills of Chiayi County turned into a surprisingly memorable experience that impressed on me once again how fortunate we all are to call this island home. The scenery I walked through that day — a mix of forest and farms reaching up into the clouds
With one week left until election day, the drama is high in the race for the Chinese Nationalist Party (KMT) chair. The race is still potentially wide open between the three frontrunners. The most accurate poll is done by Apollo Survey & Research Co (艾普羅民調公司), which was conducted a week and a half ago with two-thirds of the respondents party members, who are the only ones eligible to vote. For details on the candidates, check the Oct. 4 edition of this column, “A look at the KMT chair candidates” on page 12. The popular frontrunner was 56-year-old Cheng Li-wun (鄭麗文)
“Eighteen years ago, people didn’t even know the name of this ingredient,” says 58-year-old Gil Sa-hyeon, holding up a cluster of dried brownish stems. “Now it’s everywhere.” His shop, Joseon Yakcho, sits in the heart of Seoul’s Yangnyeongsi Market, South Korea’s largest traditional medicinal herb market, its streets lined with shops displaying buckets of herbs such as licorice root and cinnamon bark that spill on to the pavements, filling the air with their distinct, earthy aroma. The ingredient Gil is referring to is hovenia dulcis, known in Korean as heotgae — the oriental raisin tree that’s become the cornerstone of South Korea’s
RSS