When the lockdown began, I was talking to random people on dating apps, familiar with the fact that I do not want to meet them. It was out of need that I keep talking to strangers not with an idea of dating them but to avoid the loneliness and over thinking that happens when mind wanders off.
Many queer people of colour have a number of experiences with racism within the “mainstream” LGBT+ spaces. Microaggressions from the doorman at the club is common, often being asked whether we know that it’s a “gay venue”.
My idiotic heart that clings to every false hope led me into believing that this change of place would mark a new beginning of acceptance, kindness and warmth. Little did I know that humanities can only teach such notions but cannot force you into practising it.
Living a bisexual life is to live in the shadows. To exist in the grey. You belong in the straight world, yet you don’t. You belong in the queer world, yet you don’t. Because our desires are both normative and deviant, we’re suspects everywhere.
I decided to get it all together, experiment and feel accepted by my own body in the form of Self Portraits.
I am gay. That’s it. There is nothing more and nothing less. It doesn’t change who I have been for the past 23 years, it doesn’t make me a bad person, it doesn’t make me any less capable to accomplish as anyone else.
I grew up with an all-consuming love for Bollywood movies. They supplied the canvas for my visions and the soundtrack to my life’s cadences. To go to the theatre to watch a movie was to touch magic. And nowhere was that magic more apparent than in the quintessential Bollywood romance.
I cannot see that much. So, when I need something, over visual aesthetics, I would choose comfort, softness, texture, design and style - aspects of any material creation that I can feel through my tactile abilities. Taking this metaphorically, one can discern my experience during dating expeditions.