Abstract
Anthony C. Ocampo explores the ways in which gay sons of Filipino and Latinx immigrants navigate through their white-dominant and heteronormative social worlds in the book Brown and Gay in LA. In this ethnographic study, Ocampo invites the readers to the life journeys of 63 second-generation Filipino and Latinx gay men, beginning with childhood, through adolescence and young adulthood, to where they are now. In doing so, Ocampo moves the discussion of queerness, race, and assimilation beyond the usual tropes of minority coming of age sob stories and reveals the individual and collective acts of resistance that the society often overlooks—the resistance to institutionalized discourses that perpetuate multiplicative, intersectional oppression of racial and sexual minorities.
The chapters are organized to examine specific social contexts in which these men are situated during each life stage: family, middle- and high schools, college, and online space and gay nightlife. In chapters 2 and 3, Ocampo first considers how heteronormative gender and sexuality socialization that occurs from an early age shapes these second-generation gay men’s sense of self and belongingness, or lack thereof, in family and school settings. Especially in school settings, invisible forces of racialization left these men with only a few options for stigma management that either relies on or rejects imposed racial stereotypes.
In the following chapters, Ocampo investigates the different ways and contexts in which second-generation Filipino and Latinx gay men come of age during their young adulthood. For many interviewees, if middle- and high schools were something they had to survive, then college was an “escape” they had long yearned for. With a safe distance between themselves on college campus and home communities, these young second-generation gay men could explore their sexuality as well as racial/ethnic belongingness, especially through their involvements in ethnic student organizations. Even for the men who did not attend college, an abundance of gay social and night life, particularly those catering to queer people of color, in and around LA provided similar experiences. Likewise, gay online spaces and communities further provided much needed refuge for these men. The anonymity afforded by these online spaces allowed them to selectively connect with other queer men without worrying about being outed, which helped these men further embrace their own sexuality.
In the final two chapters, Ocampo turns his critical sociological eye to the ways in which these second-generation Filipino and Latinx gay men perpetuate misogyny and homophobia that they themselves had been victimized by. Many of these men employ the heteronormative respectability politics of “not that gay”—distancing oneself from the popular social imagination of effeminate “gayness”—in seeking acceptance from family members. In the final chapter, Ocampo extends this analysis and criticism to the larger societal discourse. Particularly in reflecting on what may constitute as “success” for these gay sons of immigrants, Ocampo advocates for radical okayness: being simply okay as a radical act, when society demands queer stories to be either triumphant or tragic (as introduced by queer immigrant poet, Ocean Voung). For such radical okayness to become normalized, Ocampo argues for a new framework of acceptance, and representation that recognizes the humanity of the men interviewed as fully themselves.
In recognizing, representing, and analyzing the racialized and queer humanity of the men interviewed in his study, Ocampo approaches race and racialization with much theoretical depth and sensitivity—the detailed justification for the choice of word Brown drawn from José Muñoz conceptualization really captures this strength. Yet his analysis of certain queer discourses seems unfair at times. Particularly, Ocampo’s critique of the “not that gay” trope does not account for the fact that racially and/or queer-specific respectability politics can help establish one’s belongingness as a queer person in a racial and ethnic community settings (Hunter 2010; Lee 2018, 2020; Moore 2011). Likewise, much of the conversation regarding fear, anxiety, and relief of being a queer son of non-white immigrants shared among Ocampo and his interviewees revolve around the discourse of coming out. This is understandable given that coming out is the mainstream queer discourse in most westernized societies. Furthermore, being outed was a matter of survival for many of these men, especially during their teenage and young adulthood, and therefore, voluntary disclosure of their sexuality may be a form of empowerment for them. However, as sociologist Mary L. Rasmussen (2004) states, “coming out is not necessarily an option, or a desired objective, of all people who are non-heterosexual identified” (p. 147) and this continues to be true for many queer folks. Ocampo himself argues that these gay sons of immigrants should not have to “earn” acceptance and love. In a similar vein, acceptance and celebration of queerness, whether it is in an individual or in more of a general community awareness sense, should not predicate on one’s outness.
Still, Brown and Gay in LA is a beautifully written representation that many queer people of color did not have previously. Ocampo is not only a skilled sociologist, but also an excellent storyteller. His approachable writing style, coupled with sharp sociological analyses, would benefit a wide range of audience, from undergraduate students to interested public audience alike. As a queer daughter of (now returned) immigrants myself, I felt touched when reading “Brown and Gay in LA is an acknowledgement of—and a tribute to-the labor of becoming” (p. 13). But I also believe the book is more than a simple tribute—this is simultaneously a “it gets better” story for queer youths of color and children of immigrants as well as a “you’re not alone” story for queer adults of color who have gone through similar experiences. Perhaps more importantly, Ocampo tells an “I see you” story of visibility and recognition, acknowledging whole humanities of these gay sons of immigrants as well as other queer racial minorities whose identities and lives are often forcibly compartmentalized and fragmented.