Fridae

I don't know whose idea it was to put cineplexes on the top floors of shopping malls, for access tends to be a problem. Escalators require too many zigzags and elevators are always too few and too packed.

So there we were, 40 persons about to fight our way into the next available lift. Eventually, only about 20 managed to squeeze in, and even then, we weren't sure whether it would move or demand that we throw one overboard.

The bitch in me fought very well. I was the second person in and staked my claim to a spot next to the buttons, the control-freak that I am. From there, I had a sideways view of the crowd and all their grimacing faces as they dealt with stepped-upon toes, crushed bags and body odour. And the way all those faces turned around in formation to face the door as it closed, still looking grim.

Two seconds later, expressions became even more controlled than usual. Catatonic would be the word. Every twitch was suppressed, which only heightened the silent uproar that broke out. "&*^%$#*@^%!" was stoppered in every throat.. Did someone fart? No, the mental throwing of tables and chairs was too riotous for that. But their darting eyes gave away the location of the action.

It was in another corner of the lift, the other side of the doorway where another set of buttons were. Two girls were french-kissing, their lips, tongues, groping hands and throbbing bosoms mere inches - literally! - from four other good solid citizens squashed against them.

All this before people had had a chance to press the floor they wanted, nor even to see which buttons were lit! What were they going to do? Snake an arm through the intertwined lovers to reach a button? Look through the half-inch gap between chins and collarbones to see which floor had been pressed? Speak, requesting someone to press a button for them? Impossible. That would be too disrespectful of the collective seizure.

It was all of ten seconds. When the doors opened again, never mind which floor, 17 persons fell out of the box gasping for air, like so many illegal migrants that had been stuffed into a forty-foot shipping container for a week.

I had the honour of holding the door open for them, not expecting any thanks, which I didn't get anyway, and then wondered whether I should continue to hold them open for the two girls who didn't look like they were done yet. I left them behind.

Let's get serious now

Why was it necessary to do what they did? Because we've been encouraging political participation. More than romance, youthful impulse or erotic gratification, this is politics. The two might not have seen it as such, they most probably didn't plan it, but both the underlying motivation and most certainly, the effect of it, was political.

You want to pretend a subject doesn't exist? We'll confront you with it. You want to silence us? We'll see who is rendered speechless.

This is politics: changing the agenda, changing the relative positions of the societal actors, putting new facts into play. And in the end, changing society.

The subconscious motivation is also political. The extra thrill of doing it in your face comes directly out of years of repression, of being told this must not be done. Then all the more, some gay men and lesbians want to do it. The satisfaction is not sexual, but much more powerful - that of political liberation. Of breaking chains. Of finding one's own voice and power.

On the other hand, there is the argument, held by many gays and lesbians as well, that net effect of such provocation is negative. By creating discomfort and offence, we turn off otherwise neutral members of the public; maybe even harden the attitudes of those opposed to us. It gives the community a bad name. People may associate being gay and lesbian with disruptiveness and unpleasantness.

Instead, it is argued, gays and lesbians ought to make efforts to reduce the sense of threat that people may feel, which may require some form of assimilation. "We're just like you" should be the message from speech and demeanour.

There is no resolving this tension. It's been with the human race ever since we've held more than one opinion. What we can see through history perhaps is that few successful social movements have ever relied on one prong alone.

In any case, it's a bit rich for any of us, who hold personal autonomy as a high ideal, who decry the enforced conformity of a heterosexist society, to start telling what other lesbians and gays they should, or should not do. Or to exercise the same kind of social coercion to get others to think and act like us.

There was a time when I myself might have felt uncomfortable seeing lesbians french-kiss in lifts. I too might have felt that they were just inviting scorn. But I have left that internalised homophobia behind - I think. I take the long perspective now. What extra scorn they might have generated is but a dewdrop compared to what's out there: an ocean of militant homophobia, another ocean of passive homophobia and a third of apathetic disinterest. But maybe they created a dewdrop of good too, in reminding everyone that like it or not, we exist too.

One way or another, at least they did more than me. I quietly kept my finger on the button, holding the door open for the good citizens to tumble out. Did they even know I existed? Did they know that they were the recipients of a molecule of good deed, and that the good deed came from a gay man?

Who impacted society more? The two girls who kissed or me in the corner keeping quiet?

Alex Au has been a gay activist for over 10 years and is the co-founder of People Like Us. Alex is the author of the well-known Yawning Bread web site. For more on the Singapore GE, visit Yawning Bread. He can be contacted at yawning@geocities.com.