(This is 1 week out before my birthday. People who know me know I am weird about my birthday. To catch you up, new people in my life. I have this pre-birthday-panic every year because my inner Asian mom keeps telling me, “What have I done with my life besides getting older?” Then on my birthday, I will feel super sad and abandoned; then I shut down (and if people shower me with food and love, I will doubt their intention,s and I will piss them off by telling them “You are only doing this because of my pre-birthday freakout.”) Then I got sort of melancholy and normal again, like someone who just accept and finish grieving a death. This repeats annually.)
Happy New Year? In the current context of what is happening (geopolitically) in Alberta, in the US, and in the world, it is hard to say “Happy”. It is a new year. I came back from a vacation in Thailand and immediately got sick. Then we launched a major project, and I had to do performance reviews for 71 staff and 12 managers, so it’s been pretty much just go-go-go since then. It is a strange time and a strange feeling. Some friends call this the pandemic hangover. Some call it the grieving effect of normalcy and the world order as we know it. 2025 was, to sum it up in a word, strange. I turned 40, which is a weird milestone (more on that later). I am grateful to be safe, to have shelter, to have family and friends, to have work, so I should not complain about anything. Yet my anxiety and restlessness are at an all-time high, and I have such a low baseline capacity that something seemingly minor and benign can bother me for days on end.
My first year of being 40 was, well, strange. It’s mixed reviews or mixed bag experiences, pretty much like life itself. I got to spend my birthday week with family, friends (amazing!) while being rained on the entire time in California (not great). I got to see Kelly twice (bonus!). For the first year, I didn’t send someone close to me a birthday message, and they didn’t even remember to reach out (their birthday is 2 days before mine, so if I wish them happy birthday, they will remember to say it back). Marcus spent a week of Stampede with us (amazing!) A close friend of ours started dating (someone younger), and we sort of never saw them again. My job is going really well (got a small raise!), but it is becoming increasingly challenging because of the new marketplace and the slow-changing mindset of people. We went to Thailand for a good friend’s wedding. While we had such a great time with friends, and having sunshine with a nice warm weather for a change in January is so great, being in a queer space in Asia always brings back terrible feelings for me.
Something did happen in Thailand. We went to a couple of big parties and other spaces. It brought me back to the early days of my coming out in California. (For context, I was 24. My ex was 42 and white.) Of course, in these places, you will see older white men acting like they own the place. You will see young, muscular Asian men either pair up with each other or pair up with a much older white man. I was used to being a wallflower. I am still that young man, I think, easily overwhelmed by these spaces. It doesn’t help that my husband is white, and while we are similar in age, he is desired and sought after by all these younger, hotter Asian men. I’m kinda just there, abandoned. It’s not a great feeling. And it was the feeling I had to process for 5 years of my life, in my 20s. My older boyfriend just needed to show up, and he was beloved. He would complain about his neck, his knees, his physical condition, his mental health, and his trauma whenever we were together. But in these spaces, he was dancing, being fabulous, and being the center of everything. At one point, I felt like an emotional support pet. I was there because I had utility, not because I was desired.
To be honest, I am ok (actually, I am happy and very proud) that I am in my 40s. I feel confident, powerful, and accomplished. I feel loved, cared for, and grateful. I had wished for this ever since I was a teenager. The only thing, I think, that being in my 40s has been so bad for me was in the gay community. I was ok being 40. I’m not ok being 40 and brown and gay. I am struggling with feeling invisible and ignored. It actually hurts my feelings when a friend starts dating a younger man and stops hanging out with us (which is totally fine; it just came across as people prefer younger hangouts). I get paranoid and annoyed when (Asian) men in their twenties are surrounding my husband and ignoring me. Strangely, men are only interested in dating and romantic pursuits, not in friendship.
So, it’s a mixed bag going into 41. I am grateful and thankful for the lives we are leading. I really hope, for myself, this is just another year of settling into (old) middle age. I hope to learn to be a Buddhist and to be outside of this suffering of desire and suffering of desiring to be desired.
That, and finally accepting the things that I can’t change in the inequality of the world: race, gender, sexual orientation, socioeconomic statuses, and all else that entails with being an older brown gay immigrant.
Pace Fine Arts 