Negotiating Culture Space and Identity: The Translation and Analysis of Tongzhi and Ku-er Fiction

3.1 The Formation of Tongzhi and Ku-er Culture in Taiwan
Taiwan became one of the first nations in Asia to host the growth of a political approach to homosexuality. There are a variety of factors that led to the development of tongzhi and ku-er, though the most significant was arguably the lifting of martial law in 1987.
Differing overviews of the historical background of Taiwan (Martin 2003a, Liang 2006) agree that the character of modern Taiwan has been defined by two military defeats: the defeat of Imperial Japan by the USA in 1945 followed by the defeat of the U.S sponsored Kuomingtang (KMT) party by the communist People’s Republic of China two years later. These events transformed Taiwan from a Japanese colony to a dictatorship on the front line of Cold War, bulwark against the spread of communism. For the next twenty years, all areas of public life were to be dominated by the KMT regime. The country was kept on a war footing: the party slogan “反攻大陸” [reclaim the mainland] reflects the overriding priority of the early period. All ideological and political expression was strictly regulated, and any dissent was suppressed. The infamous ‘228 Incident’ in 1947 set the precedence, in which an estimated 10,000 to 20,000⁴ protestors and civilians directly or indirectly involved with the protest against KMT police practices were either injured or executed by the state. This period in Taiwan was widely referred as the 白色恐怖 [White Terror].
Concurrently, links with the U.S.A strengthened during the martial period. Taiwan benefitted from favourable international trade arrangements, transforming an impoverished backwater into an economic powerhouse. Increasing numbers of Taiwanese people developed ties with the U.S.A through commerce, education and immigration. Consequently, Western influences played a major role in the development of Taiwanese culture. The scholar and translator Martin describes Taiwan during the martial law period as a state of “Republican Modernity” (2003a: 10), composed of diverse cultural formations and practices:
If there is a Taiwanese modernity, it is a highly syncretic formation that has been shaped in fundamental ways by Japanese colonialism, Chinese Republican culture, the US military presence and economic aid, and KMT Cold War political and cultural practice (Martin, 2003a: 11)
The multicultural aspects of society are in turn reflected in its local homosexual culture. Liou Liang-ya, in her essay on the development of ku-er culture through cultural translation, suggests that even before the 90s, Taiwan already had a thriving homosexual subculture located in: “Taiwanese opera troupes, gay bars, T-bars, Taipei’s New Parks, certain hotels, etc” (2005: 126). The T-bars for example, are described by Liou (2005) as a fusion of Taiwanese local lesbian culture with American and Japanese influences. The word ‘T’ refers to the English word ‘tomboy’, which Liou considers to be similar to the Western concept of a ‘butch lesbian’ (2005: 126). According to Liou, the expression ‘T’ first came into use in lesbian pubs in the 1960s: “under the aegis of American GI culture during the Cold War period where US armed forces were stationed in Taiwan” (2005: 139). However, Martin (2003a) also points out that T-bars are traditionally run in a Japanese style, with hostesses and Karaoke as the main attractions. The ‘female’ version ‘P’o’ appeared in the mid 80s as a counterpart to T identity. The word P’o denotes in the Taiwanese language⁵ ‘婆’ [wife/grandmother], used as a suffix to refer either to an old lady or the wife in a family (Chao 2000). This was adapted by the lesbian culture to describe lesbians of feminine appearance. Chao (2000), in her research on T-P’o culture in Taiwan, notes that P’o type lesbians also frequent T-bars as either patrons or hostesses. Both T and P’o are used in their original Roman letter form, and are still employed by Taiwanese lesbians today. The T–P’o identity/culture can be seen as an early version of hybrid female homosexuality, predating both tongzhi and ku-er.
Similarly, male homosexual communities in Taiwan were also culturally diverse. As early as the 1950s male homosexual subcultures existed in Taiwan, most notably at Taipei’s New Park, a well-known spot for gay males to meet and solicit. The ‘scene’ was famously encapsulated in Pai Hsien-yung’s seminal novel 孽子 (1986) [Evil Son], which portrays the lives of a group of homosexual males frquenting New Park in the 1970s. The novel reveals the multicultural aspects of the early Taiwanese gay community, a motley crew of characters of various ethnicities: from mainland Chinese, Minnan Chinese, Aboriginal Taiwanese to Japanese merchants and American expatriates. These diverse characters share a place in the ‘玻璃圈’ [glass circle], a term for Taiwanese gay culture. The term ‘玻璃’ [glass] itself is a euphemism, originally used in the 1950s as a reference to anal sex (Liou, 2005). Although the term can be derogatory, it is used at various times by the characters within the novel in a playful or ironic way, subverting the negative stereotype associated with the term. As a novel, 孽子 (1986) [Evil Son] is unique in that it is the first explicitly homosexual themed works of fiction published in Taiwan before martial law was lifted. The subject matter, as well as the sympathetic portrayal of male homosexuality makes the novel an early predecessor of Taiwanese tongzhi and ku-er fiction. This novel, alongside the work of the AIDS activist Chi Chia Wei, is cited by Liou (2005) as the only voice speaking for Taiwanese homosexual communities during the martial law period.
The paucity of gay and lesbian expression is testimony to the invisibility of Taiwanese homosexual groups during that time. Despite their vibrancy, homosexual communities in Taiwan had no social, cultural or political visibility. Gay and lesbian activity was conducted within strictly underground circles. Political unions of any kind were forbidden under martial law and homosexuality was not recognised by the government to exist. Although there were no laws specifically prohibiting same sex sexual activity or relationships, any public display of ‘deviant behaviours’ could be prosecuted under the law ‘妨害風化’ [deleterious to fine customs]. The deliberate vagueness of this charge meant that it could be used to encompass any behaviour that the authorities considered threatening. Soliciting, cross-dressing or even public displays of affection by couples of the same sex could all result in arrest. In this context, there was virtually no room for homosexuals to surface, or ‘come out’.
The lifting of martial law in 1987, however, heralded a new era in public expression. The gradual weakening of the Kuomintang government’s grip on power, coupled with popular demand for the liberalisation of public life lead to the abolition of military regulations. The new freedom lead to a surge in political activity, new newspapers, journals, translation and literary writing. Taking advantage of the situation, homosexual groups in Taiwan began to form politicised groups and unions in the early 90s. It is around this time that the terms tongzhi and ku-er appeared, offering Taiwanese homosexuals a legitimate name and public identity.
Significantly, both tongzhi and ku-er are the direct result of cultural translations. Zeng (2003) points out that the term tongzhi [comrade] was first popularized through Asian cinema. Coined by the organisers of the Hong Kong Tongzhi film festival (1989) as a single translation of the English terms ‘lesbian’ and ‘gay’ (Zeng 2003:42). The word tongzhi later came into use in Taiwan in 1992, through the establishment of the Taiwan’s very own tongzhi film festival, and was subsequently adopted by homosexual groups. The famous slogan of the KMT leader Sun Yat-sen ‘革命尚未成功\, 同志仍須努力’ (the revolution has yet to succeed, tongzhi [comrades] we must fight harder) ironically became the rallying cry for tongzhi groups. The mischievousness of the wordplay also demonstrates a willingness to subvert.
Ku-er [cool child], the translation of ‘queer’, first appeared in Taiwan in 1994, in literary journals discussing queer studies (Liou 2005: 128). Contributors like Chi Tai Wei and Hong Lin view ku-er as the roguish sibling of tongzhi. Ku-er writers focus on the deconstructive notion of gender and sexuality as proposed by Judith Butler and Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick. As the name suggests, the meaning of ‘cool child’ transforms the concept of ‘queer’ into a fashionable, cool identity. Its later incarnation, ‘怪胎’ translated as ‘freak’, adheres closer to the original meaning of ‘queer’. Nevertheless, it is the term ku-er that is most widely used. It should be noted however, that tongzhi and ku-er, unlike the Western distinctions between gay, lesbian and queer, are frequently interchangeable. The timeline between the introduction of tongzhi (1992) and ku-er (1994) identities in Taiwan almost overlaps, and many activists and writers work simultaneously in both movements. Hence, the tension between gay, lesbian and queer identities is not present in tongzhi and ku-er movements, which are largely based on mutual support.
Influenced both by the democratic mood in Taiwan (and other emergent identity politic movements like feminist, aborigine Taiwanese and the Taiwanese Nationalist movements) and radical, anti authoritarian Western discourses defined by the series of Post-ism (i.e Postmodernism, Poststructuralism and Postcolonialism), tongzhi and ku-er is part of the transcultural interface: a meeting point of different cultural intersections. Martin defines Taiwanese contemporary homosexual identities as the product of ‘glocalisation’:
Thus, neologisms like tongzhi, ku’er and guatai[freak] emerged in 1990s Taiwan as examples of glocalization in the domain of sexual knowledge: critical, selective appropriations and reworking of terms and concepts that originated elsewhere. (Martin 2003a: 23)
For Martin, this process lead to a type of cultural and sexual expression (2003a: 24), in which tongzhi and ku-er literature can be seen as ‘reworking’ and ‘re-appropriating’ of Western and Taiwanese literary concepts. Tongzhi and ku-er fiction represents a unique form of Taiwanese literary writing, offering an alternative vision of homosexual identity(ies), incorporating a range of literary and cultural influences.

3.2 Tongzhi and Ku-er literature
As noted in the last section, the publication of the first openly gay novel孽子(1986) [Evil Sons], by Pai Hsien-yung in Taiwan created an impact in the literary world. The lifting of martial law however, lead to the appearance of a very different type of homosexual themed fiction. Homosexual themed writing has become unprecedentedly prolific and many of the activists involved with tongzhi movements began using literature as a medium for protest and expression. Liou (2005) cites ku-er activist/writer Chi Tai Wei, who views literature as the ideal medium to express the fluidity of sexuality. In addition, there has been an increase in media interest in tongzhi and ku-er topics. The critical success of literary works like Chu Tien-wen’s 荒人手計 [Desolate man’s Journal] (which went on the win the prestigious China Times Awards in 1994) and Qiu Maojin’s 鱷魚手記 (1994) [The Crocodile’s Journal] brought tongzhi and ku-er fiction to the attention of the literary mainstream in the 1990s. Beyond the ‘niche’ lesbian and gay markets, tongzhi and ku-er fiction was increasingly perceived as ‘fashionable’ reading material by the public and media alike. Yvonne Chang (2004) in her review on the changing literary culture in contemporary Taiwan, points to the rise of ‘fukan’ [newspaper supplement] culture in the post martial law period as a factor in the promotion new Taiwanese literature. With newspapers often holding highly prized literary contests (such as the aforementioned China Times awards) and attracting wide readership, many of the early tongzhi short stories were able to come to mainstream attention through the literary fukan. Chang even notes that during the mid 90s, fukan editors and annual fiction contest jurors were “inundated” with writers submitting stories with queer themes (2004: 202), suggesting the trendiness of tongzhi. The international success of gay films from Taiwan like Ang Li’s The Wedding Banquet (1993) and Tsai Ming-liang’s The River (1996) in the film festival circuits contributed to the ‘fashionable’ image of tongzhi and ku-er. Tongzhi and ku-er fiction came to represent a cosmopolitan, progressive ‘chic’ encapsulating the changes in post martial law Taiwan.
In terms of literary style, tongzhi and ku-er fiction is experimental in theme and genre. Tongzhi and ku-er writers begin to experiment with various literary forms, blurring the distinction between ‘high culture’ fiction (realism, surrealism, metafiction) and ‘low culture’ (fantasy, erotica, science fiction), often described as postmodern. Interestingly, Seidman, looking at the ‘postmodern’ in American gay culture, described postmodernism thus:
Post Modernism has come to signify, among other things, a phase of historical development, a stage of late capitalism, a new aesthetic, a sensibility, an epistemological break, the end of grand narratives, and a new political juncture. (Seidman 1993: 109)
Seidman’s statement could equally apply to post martial law Taiwan. In a similar trajectory, the environment of post martial law Taiwan was undergoing transformation, with rapid capitalisation and urbanisation changing the traditional life style. Chu Tien-wen’s tongzhi novel 荒人手計 [Desolate Person’s Journal] (1993) and 肉身菩薩 [Buddha of the Body] (1989) for example, explores the uncertainties of individuals living in the dual environment of a traditional Chinese upbringing and an emerging Western modernity. At a different end of the spectrum, Chi Tai Wei’s and Hong Lin play with the idea of ‘new aesthetic’ in their ku-er fiction, using ‘pulp’ genres such as science fiction and horror to produce entertaining yet biting critiques on the homophobic and heterosexists pressures facing Taiwanese tongzhi and ku-er. The stories both capture and push for a ‘new political juncture’ in Taiwanese history.
Furthermore, the potential for ‘multiple’, rather than singular or binary concepts in Postmodernist thinking accords in with tongzhi and ku-er movements recognition and celebration of the multiplicity of sexuality, gender and influence. Liou, summarising the fluidity of sexuality portrayed in tongzhi fiction, noted the presentations of fluid, multiple sexual identities:
[…] the fluid, transgressive (and sometimes deliberately perverted) sexuality and mutations of identity in which their [tongzhi and ku-er] fiction abounds are meant to shock the ordinary reader by challenging the latter’s notion of fixed heterosexual and homosexual identities and sensibility on the issue of sexuality. (Liou 2005: 144)
Much tongzhi and ku-er fiction for example, portrays mutation in the literal sense, in which the main characters often turn into otherworldly or animal creatures such as angels, vampires, androids and crocodiles. These beings can be perceived as ‘queer’ in the true meaning of the word, feared or revered by conventional society. Hong Ling (1997), in her study of female tongzhi fiction, describes the recurrence of an ‘alien’ and ‘the alien body’ in works by female ku-er writers like Qui Maojin and Chen Xue. To paraphrase Hong (1997), the ‘alien’, or ‘other’ identities presented in these stories are a form of literary resistance against the normalcy imposed by conventional society. In the case of female tongzhi fiction, the traditional gender roles are questioned alongside the notion of sexuality. Hong cites her own ku-er writings as a case in point, in which the image of the ‘lesbian vampire’ is subverted from a symbol of lesbian homophobia to an alternative expression of female tongzhi eroticism (1997: 110). In the short story 獸難 (1995) [Beast Plague] for example, the stigmatised ‘lesbian vampire’ character is the object of intense, even fetishsised desire from the female characters, manifesting the deliberate representation of a ‘perverted’ sexuality that Liou (2005) describes in ku-er writing.
Martin has a similar interpretation of the ‘alien’ image in tongzhi and ku-er literature, she notes that the monster characters are sometimes cartoonised for comedic effect. The crocodile episodes in Qui Maojin’s 鱷魚手記 (1994) [The Crocodile’s Journal] for example, plays with the image of the crocodile as both a symbol of revulsion and a cute national mascot. As Martin explains:
Such queer non human forms produce a tongxinglian [homosexuality] that, instead of being repulsive, is now rendered, precisely, as lovable (ke’ai) [cute]. Interestingly, too, rather than asserting any disingenuously ‘positive image’ of tongzhi, this reverse discourse on homosexual abjection shares with the tactic of xianshen [coming out] […] and making visible the conditions of tongzhi injury. (Martin 2003a: 240)
The subversion of the negative image of homosexuality is interpreted by Martin as one of the tongzhi tactics for exposing the ‘injury’, or homophobia in which the gay/lesbian individual in Taiwan endures. In the passage she also touches on the debate of ‘coming out’, one of the most contentious debates in tongzhi communities. Both Martin (2000) and Chu Wei Chang (2008) outline the controversies surrounding the practice of ‘coming out of the closet’ in Taiwan. As Harvey already notes, ‘coming out’ is an essential component of American gay identity (2003: 12). In the West, the affirmation of one’s sexuality in public is viewed as an empowering process, breaking free of the symbol of confinement that is the ‘closet’. However, Chu (2008) argues that the Western practice of coming out is not always appropriate in the Taiwanese context, which has its own particular forms of social pressure and stigma. The expectations within a Confucian family structure, or ‘家’ [home] that Chu cites (2008: 194), places the responsibility on the individual to uphold the family honour. Martin discusses the importance of 臉 [face]: to come out in Taiwan would potentially lead to ‘losing face’ (the loss of reputation) not only for the individual, but also for the individual’s family name (2000: 198). This constraint led to the evolution of alternative strategies for coming out. Both Martin (2000) and Chu (2008) cite the masked Pride parades in Taiwan as examples: where tongzhi participants wear carnival masks, which both disguise and emphasise their tongzhi identity. The use of masks enabled the participants to be identified as tongzhi yet at same time maintain anonymity.
The ambiguity between the visible and the hidden informs the metaphoric nature of much tongzhi and ku-er fiction. The aforementioned vampires and androids, have ‘human’ appearances despite their ‘inhuman’ nature, their ‘affiliation’, hidden under their human exterior. However, some tongzhi and ku-er writers deal with the issue of coming out in a tongue in cheek manner. Chi Tai Wei, in the short story 蝕 (1994) [Erosion] for example, uses the metaphor of ‘insect eaters’. The issue of coming out as an ‘insect eater’ to ones parents and the characters discussion on ‘faking’ a wedding in the story is a knowing reference to Ang Li’s film The Wedding Banquet (1993). As Martin (2003a) already noted, the discourse on “homosexual abjection” can conversely act as a form of resistance. However, as the example from Chi Tai Wei’s fiction also demonstrates, the very depictions of the ‘abjection’ of homosexuality can be ironic.
3.3 Conclusion
These stories can be understood as textual manifestations of the challenging yet playful nature of tongzhi and ku-er culture in all its diversity: political, parodic, comedic, critical, and erotic. Contemporary tongzhi and ku-er fiction can arguably be seen as a literary strategy supporting tongzhi and ku-er activism. In addition, tongzhi and ku-er fiction reflects the hybrid, or perhaps more accurately, ‘metis’ nature that defines tongzhi and ku-er identity, instead of a fixed cultural ‘root’ a multiplicity of literary, political and cultural frameworks. Tongzhi and ku-er fiction represents an unprecedented, politicized ‘literary frame’ that openly engages with multiple foreign frameworks. The notion of ‘frame’ as used here provides a useful basis evaluating tongzhi and ku-er fiction and their translations.


Chapter 4: Minority Identity and Community

When looking at the translation of tongzhi and ku-er fiction, identity can be seen to be defined not by a singular cultural ‘root’ but, to quote Fran Martin’s definition of tongzhi and ku-er culture: “Tongxinlian [homosexuality] is […] an ambivalent hybrid, continually refashioning itself out of multiple, shifting knowledge of diverse provenance” (2003a: 36). The ambivalent, ‘hybrid’ nature of ‘tongzhi’ and ‘ku-er’ allows multiple cultural identities to co-exist. This in turn resonates with Stuart Hall’s proposal that contemporary identities are never unitary, but: “[…] increasingly fragmented and fractured; never singular but multiply constructed across different, often intersecting and antagonistic, discourses, practices and positions ’” (1996: 4). The multiplicity of ‘discourse’, ‘practices’ and ‘positions’ relating to ‘tongzhi’ and ‘ku-er’ identity are in nature not only sexual, but also political, collective, minority and translated.

Amongst the various strands of identity, the notion of migrant identity is of particular interest: migrant identity, like tongzhi and ku-er identities, can be understood to be another example of translated identity. Looking at the translation of Caribbean literature, the scholar Anna Malena argues that: “Migrants are translated beings in countless ways. They remove themselves from their familiar source environment and move towards a target culture that is more or less unfamiliar” (2003: 9). The sense of dislocation, as well as the often marginalized, ‘foreign’ position that migrant individuals finds themselves in, resonates with the outsider status of tongzhi and ku-er individuals. In addition, the uncertainty of ‘home’ in migrancy, illustrated by the concepts of diaspora and exile is a common theme in tongzhi and ku-er writing.
In addition, the aforementioned concepts describe both a metaphorical and literal process. Scholars such as Iaian Chambers (1994) and Stuart Hall (1987) see migration as an appropriate metaphor for contemporary existence; a reflection of the increasingly borderless nature of contemporary living. It should be noted however, that while studies like Chambers’ provide a philosophical grounding in understanding these concepts, they do not provide many concrete examples to support their assertions. The purpose of this paper therefore, is to also look at how tongzhi and ku-er culture corresponds with this (post)modern approach to migration and the relationship between textual diaspora and real life diaspora.
The following section will begin by looking at the notion of migrant identity and translation.