|
Getting your Trinity Audio player ready...
|
Editor’s Note: This article is the fourth in a four-part series that draws on a new report by Innovation for Change – East Asia, which looks into the lived experiences of the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer/questioning, intersex, asexual plus (LGBTQIA+) community engaged in civil society work that goes beyond LGBTQIA+ rights. Download the synthesis report here.
W
hile the rest of the world is slowly becoming more understanding of the LGBTQIA+ community, Brunei stands out as among the few exceptions.
It was only six years ago when Brunei enacted a draconian penal code that included death by stoning as punishment for individuals found guilty of gay sex or adultery. This makes Southeast Asia’s Islamic absolute monarchy with less than half a million population one of only six countries across the globe that criminalizes homosexuality through capital punishment.
It therefore comes as no surprise that Brunei’s queer people hide in the shadows. There are no LGBTQIA+ organizations in the tiny kingdom that has been flagged by rights groups for its repressed civil society and curtailed human rights and civil liberties.
“The Brunei government holds certain values and identity – conservative, Islamic – [that are] far from the LGBTQIA+ values and identity,” says N, an environmental advocate. “And it is a given that any organization involved with and/or supported by the government also needs to reflect and uphold the same.”
Denied the opportunity to advocate for their own rights despite repressive laws and a restrictive socio-political landscape, many Bruneian queer activists are drawn to other avenues where they can still contribute to positive social change.
A new report by Innovation for Change – East Asia (I4C-EA) highlights these realities, and more, based on the stories of 13 queer activists navigating Brunei’s civic landscape.
None of them work in queer-specific advocacy, because it doesn’t exist in the country. Their activism transpires in interstitial spaces: climate change, marine conservation, youth organizing, policy think tanks, and sexual health. Most of those interviewed for the report said they began with volunteer work, driven by community care or professional interest.
“Queer people are strong allies in other issues. And so, we invite our allies to engage actively in our fight too,” says B, a program coordinator for youth.
Casting light in dim places
The Brunei country report, “Partial Visibility,” is part of I4C’s four-part series titled “Shimmering Lights in Shadows: Queer Activists in Non-Queer Spaces,” which tackles the lived experiences of LGBTQIA+ individuals engaged in advocacy sectors. The rest of the focus countries are Malaysia, Singapore, and Fiji.
The report features activists in civil society who either hide their queer identities or struggle to thrive in unsafe environments while in pursuit of their civic work. Unfortunately, many also find that their CSO workplaces can replicate the exclusions they are trying to fight.
“With no organized LGBTQIA+ rights groups or public advocacy, finding safe spaces or engaging in activism becomes a daunting challenge,” says the report.
Cultural conservatism is also brought to bear on discussions around gender identity and sexuality “as these issues are seen as taboo or contrary to the country’s moral values.”
A 2022 U.S. State Department report on the religious liberties in Brunei said the LGBTQIA+ community “regularly relies on foreign diplomatic missions to create safe spaces for expression and free assembly.” It also noted that some queer members have experienced being monitored by the government for their activities and communications. Community events on LGBTQIA+ topics are not granted permits, it added.
As B remarks: “We can only see possibilities from afar, watching how neighboring countries handle similar advocacy.”
Workplace culture
Still, many queer people in Brunei have managed to find workplaces that demonstrate some level of “underlying acceptance of diverse identities,” says the report. Such spaces “foster a sense of community, where participants feel safe, supported, and able to express themselves, even if their queer identities are not openly discussed.”
Organizational culture influences how these individuals negotiate their identities. For example, in decentralized or youth-focused spaces, identity can sometimes find quiet expression, thanks to their more flexible and open work cultures.
J, an environmental advocate on ocean conservation, shares that “I can really be myself around my colleagues, even casually sharing my personal experiences with them, such as who I’m dating. They did not feel uncomfortable and neither did I. And that is how it should be.”
M, who works in youth development, happily shares that he is able to talk openly about his “significant other” not only with a queer colleague but also with heterosexual workmates.
It’s a different scenario of course in religiously affiliated organizations or those funded and supported by the government, the report says. In such workplaces, queer activists have to strike a balance between their identities and the conservative religious values of their organizations.
Z, a volunteer in natural disaster mitigation, shares: “I feel the sense of code-switching” – or adjusting one’s behavior, personality, and language to fit in – “is so second nature and more frequent, especially in a public-facing setting and/or engaging with government bodies.”
Even in organizations demonstrating a generally supportive culture, the lack of concrete safeguards for queer people, including anti-discrimination policies, leaves them vulnerable to discrimination. Unfortunately, the “informal tolerance of Queer individuals within these spaces does not equate to genuine acceptance or inclusion, as individuals are left feeling that they must still conform to a conservative social environment,” says the report.
Frequent code-switching, emotional compartmentalization, and fear of exposure ultimately take a toll on queer activists.
“As long as I know how to act accordingly and people see me based on my work instead of my identity, I know I will not be in trouble. However, I still wonder and dare not ask how far my organization will support me as a Queer person,” shares SH, a marine conservation advocate. “I’m afraid I already know the answer.”
Paying a high price
Bereft of formal protections, participants must adopt coping strategies: they wear gender-conforming clothing, stay quiet in meetings, or keep their personal lives private. They learn to be more reserved and less opinionated, especially when they have to deal with government officials.
Others find strength in informal solidarity. “We have each other’s backs because we know we are a minority,” H, a sexual health advocate, says. “If we don’t support each other, who else would?”
At the moment, most of the report’s participants do not see the possibility of legal reforms in favor of their community. This is not to say, however, that Brunei is not immune to international pressure. For instance, when the government decided to impose capital punishment on gay sex in 2019, the ensuing global backlash – including from Hollywood star George Clooney – prompted Sultan Hassanal Bolkiah to backpedal, and soon announced the death penalty would not be imposed on those convicted of engaging in gay sex.
Most of the queer activists expressed hope for “small, incremental improvements” starting in their own workplaces. They have called for clear, inclusive workplace policies: non-discrimination clauses, protective measures for queer staff, mental health support, and open dialogue that can take the form of casual conversations in the office, in small circles, and in closed doors to foster allyship and camaraderie.
They also yearn for training and mentorship so they advocate more effectively and contribute to policy discussions, understand rights better, and build networks. This aspiration, the report says, “reflects a broader need for capacity-building resources that can empower local advocates and foster a more resilient and knowledgeable community.”
In a country like Brunei, where anonymity keeps one safe, visibility for queer people becomes a radical act. But being visible, they say, must go hand in hand with recognition, empathy, and respect — the kind that goes beyond their queer identities, making their lived reality a worthwhile experience both as members of humanity and advocates of specific causes that in the end benefit the larger society of which they are an integral part. ◉
Krixia Subingsubing is a Filipino journalist based in Manila, who writes stories on human rights, science, and local politics.
