Ayal San: Singer and Agender Mixed Race Person from Yakutia
What is it like to be a member of the LGBT spectrum and an ethnic minority at the same time? This feeling of "double strangers" is common to many LGBT people of minority nationalities throughout the former Soviet Union. They created the "Invisible Rainbow" project. This project is from and about ethnic LGBT people in post-Soviet countries. Following them, we tell the story of Ayal San: he is a songwriter, singer and agender, mixed race person from Yakutia.
My name is Ayal San
By nationality I am a mixed race - I have Yakut and Korean blood flowing through me. I am a musician and an LGBT person. Since childhood, I dreamed of becoming a singer but was terribly embarrassed of myself. Now I am engaged in my project, in which through songs I tell the lived experience of discrimination based on sexuality and nationality in russian and Yakut societies. It is important for me to be heard; I consider this to be the basis of a safe and open world for all.
I was born in Yakutia, in the city of Nyurba. Ever since I was a child, I've felt different from others, and I was embarrassed of myself. But it was impossible to talk about all this and I lived all the experiences alone. I have developed a principle - to be like everyone else. I lived with this very unhealthy attitude for a long time.
Clashes with xenophobia
After graduating from school, I went to study psychology in Yekaterinburg. There I first encountered an identity crisis which manifested itself outside of a narrow circle of friends. As soon as I got out of it, I became a "Chinese" for strangers, a "newcomer". More and more often, I had to deal with everyday discrimination in everyday activities, such as going for a walk, attending university and going to the store.
One evening after classes, as usual, I went to the store for mayonnaise and a sandwich. I followed the usual route, through the alley. There was a group of guys standing there, one of them shouted, "Oh,!" The whole group turned to me, and one of the guys yelled, "Come here, 'churka'," throwing an empty can of beer at me. After that, he ran up and grabbed me, saying: "Are you deaf or don't you understand russian?" I broke free and ran to the store, which was ten meters away.
I was hoping that these guys would leave me behind when I was inside, and just expected help since I was a regular customer in the store. In the store, several guys from this group caught up with me, and immediately a punch flew in. I only remember how I fell to the floor, and when I came around, I began to ask the saleswoman and the security guard for help. The sales assistant shouted at me and wanted to kick me out of the store. To which I replied that if I got out, they would kill me. But she did not seem to hear and continued to demand for me to leave the store. I became so scared because no one wanted to save me, not even the people I knew from whom I bought groceries every day.
But suddenly a guard, apparently from Central Asia, came up and told me to follow him. He let me out through the staff entrance, which saved me. I caught a taxi, even though the dormitory was two minutes away. I asked the driver to accompany me to the door and ran into the dormitory. After that, I did not go out for a month.
I was scared, I lost my sense of security. I was recovering for a long time. In addition to the bruises, I also had numbness in part of my face, which only went away after two to three weeks. I didn't go to the doctor, because the university doctor was a racist, to put it mildly. She always communicated very rudely and did not want to examine me under the pretext of lunch or a break. I remember when I caught a cold, she examined me for the first time and said: "Well, how long will you continue to come here? Why don't you study at home?" I didn't even go to the university office, because they often openly discussed the shape of my eyes and my dull masculinity. Over time, I did learn to defend myself and put such people in their place, but at that moment after the attack, I was not ready for this.
If it wasn't racism, then it was homophobia
After graduating from university, I moved to Yakutsk, where I worked with clients in one-to-one psychology sessions and, at the same time, began to study singing. In between, I tried to travel abroad, especially to countries in East Asia. Once I was lucky enough to visit Korea for the first time. There I felt simply like a human being; I was no longer followed by the old judgements based on my orientation or origin. I was simply myself.
This gave me the push to realise how much my original goals and desires mattered. I wanted to sing Yakut folk songs. I entered the prestigious Music Academy in Moscow, at the Faculty of Jazz Music, from which I graduated with honours. This helped me get a job as a vocal teacher at a very good school, but my soul wanted to sing on stage.
By the end of my studies, I created a concert program in the Yakut language "Saas" (spring), with cover versions of very beautiful folk songs. Having quit a lucrative job, against all odds, I somehow managed to get a job at the Variety Theatre in Yakutsk for a small rate. But I was met there, to put it mildly, negatively. Despite this, in a short period of work in the theatre I managed to give a solo concert in Yakutsk, to go on tour to different places of the republic, which I was undoubtedly happy about.
I knew the director of this theatre before. I remember witnessing a manifestation of open homophobia towards the dance group that was supposed to take part in the concert. The director stopped the guys at the entrance and asked them to leave the hall. After that, she turned to the performer with the words: "I don't need a bunch of poofters here." I remember how I squeezed into a chair at that moment and could not utter a word. But everything inside was boiling. I wanted so much to stand up for them, but I kept silent. And I am still ashamed of it.
After a while, my silence turned against me. I was fired on the phone with barely concealed joy. This event was the starting point for me. I decided not to let myself be offended anymore, not to be silent. Fight for the right to BE. I went to court and went through three levels of jurisdiction, but in russia, it is pointless to sue the state. The court recognized the violation of my rights, but the decision was still not in my favour.
Even in my native Yakutia, I was a stranger. Haters called me "omuk" (stranger), finding faults in my appearance and lack of masculinity. Xenophobia and homophobia exist in the country, but I have learned not to generalize and not to divide people by ethnicity, gender, citizenship, or culture. I see a personality. There are still some of my fans left in Yakutia, kind and loving. I am very grateful to them for their support.
After that, I completely switched to my English-language project "I am". And I spent all my energy on it. At the same time, I communicated with various LGBT communities in different cities. In some places, I was greeted with joy, in some places they did not understand me, and in some places, people were simply ignorant. And I realized that even in your LGBT environment, you can face everyday xenophobia.
It became impossible to remain silent
The point of no return was an incident in St Petersburg. A woman was walking behind me along a wide, empty pavement, and at some point I heard her rudely order me to get out of her way, followed by the comment "Go back home!" I replied that I was already home. In the heat of the argument I said: "I didn't choose this country, but I was born here. Here, tear up my passport! I'll only be glad." I only noticed the astonished passers-by after my opponent hurried away. At that moment I felt lighter, as if I had freed myself from something. But it hurt me deeply that I was feeling anger and hatred. And that was when I decided that I had to emigrate now. And that is what I did.
Discrimination cannot be tolerated, but neither can it be generalized by blaming an entire nation or a group of people. People are not a crowd. You need to learn to see each person as a person through race, ethnicity, skin colour, gender, passport, and so on. All these events became the basis for the creation of the project "I am". I sing about the experience I have had. This is the transformation of pain into music. Each traumatic event is converted into songs. I presented this program in two countries, and it will expand each next time geographically.
The I AM project is published on YouTube. Here is its trailer: