Leung, who worked for a music company in the 1990s, says many people working behind the scenes in production or promotion have long been upfront about their sexual orientation. “The creative industry is a little bit more forward-thinking and progressive. That’s why the music industry has for a long time attracted a lot of LGBTQ+ talents who have already come out publicly,” he says. “But for artists, it’s very rare. I find this very peculiar.”

He adds that coming out has always been taboo in Hong Kong and mainland China. “The Chinese thinking is that you should lead a ‘normal’ heterosexual life. You should have a happy marriage and then have kids.”

This, he feels, has an impact on how the music industry has long worked around the world, and how it still generally works in Asia. “When major labels market pop stars, they always identify someone very mainstream and relatable. There are still some old-dog gatekeepers within the industry who believe that if you come out publicly at the early stage of your career, it can be a nail in the coffin because you alienate the masses.” He adds that if the labels are aware of an artist’s queer identity when they sign them, they will encourage that artist to stay in the closet for as long as possible, until they are established. “But once the artists become established, they are more afraid to come out, because they are afraid of [alienating] their established fans. It’s a vicious cycle.”

In case you missed: Why Michelle Yeoh’s Oscar win isn’t enough: ‘Foundation’ actress Sandra Yi Sencindiver on representation and her theatre company Danskdansk

It isn’t only pressure in their work environment that LGBTQ+ artists can face. Independent Hong Kong singer Jodie Chan, who performs under the name Joya, grew up in a Christian home and struggled to come out to her parents, fearing that she would disappoint them. The singer had dated women secretly but had felt guilty for doing so. “There are just a lot of subtle things that come with being Asian; even though my parents and family are incredibly open, I didn’t want them to worry about me,” she says.

Studying at an international school in Hong Kong, then living in the US and France encouraged her to explore her sense of identity, including sexuality. Eventually, she came out to her family. “I’ve always had a close relationship with my parents and felt like hiding my sense of self was killing me inside, and put up a barrier I didn’t want to have with my parents.”

She now actively finds opportunities to advocate for the Hong Kong LGBTQ+ community, speaking about her experiences and views to the media, communities and companies. She also uses her music to keep the discussion going. The happily married singer-songwriter feels she has an obligation to flip prejudices stemming from a lack of understanding of what relationships can be like for queer people. Joya writes songs inspired by her personal experiences. If Ever She Goes, a love song from the perspective of a woman about a woman, describes how she felt when she first fell in love with her wife, chef May Chow. “For the average listener, it’s a pretty song about love. But if I were to imagine myself hearing this when I was really young, it’s just so obvious to someone for whom it matters. It’s still not as common to hear a woman singing about [being in love with] another woman,” she says. “But changing that pronoun and gender is something very powerful.”

The situation is uneven across the rest of Asia. Taiwan legalised same-sex marriage in 2019 and its LGBTQ+ movement has long been at the forefront regionally. “While there aren’t a lot of singers who have come out publicly, there are a lot of topics related to LGBTQ+ issues in their pop songs,” Leung says. Mandopop diva A-Mei’s 2009 song Rainbow was famously dedicated to non-binary love. More recently, gay singer Hush, who came out in a 2015 concert, talks about closeted love in the song Same. Jolin Tsai’s We’re All Different, Yet the Same was inspired by the true story of a same-sex couple, and the video features Tsai kissing Taiwanese actress Ruby Lin.

Thailand has become gradually more open-minded in the past decade, says Silvy Pavida Moriggi, a queer Thai Italian pop singer-songwriter who started singing professionally ten years ago. Then, she says, “people would put me into that kind of [girly girl] category that I saw a lot in Thailand, which is not me. They told me how to behave and I felt forced.” She began to explore her own identity with music and through her music videos. In another 2021 song, XL, which is primarily about body positivity—with the empowering chorus “Be your own kind of beautiful. F*ck it, we’re all beautiful”—she drops her “girly girl self” in the video, scissoring off her long hair. In 2021, she released the song Queen, in which she encourages non-binary people to own their identities. Then, in 2022, she released PLS, in which she talks about falling in love with her partner, a “pretty little superstar”, portrayed in the video by a woman.

While Thailand doesn’t recognise same-sex marriage, Pavida observes that in Bangkok today, where she’s based, people celebrate Pride month every June; Pavida has been an active performer at Pride concerts in recent years. But members of the LGBTQ+ community are still sometimes treated as objects of ridicule, usually through ignorance. Pavida hopes she is doing her part to raise awareness of the community through her music. Despite sometimes receiving extremely negative reactions, overall she sees it as positive that people get “to see more diversity, and we [get] the opportunity to share [the message of our existence], be ourselves and say that being different is a great thing. My queer pop music [is full of bops] for the queer community and [teaches] people more about queer culture.”

For queer Filipino-Nepalese R&B singer-songwriter Jason Dhakal, who was born and raised in Oman before moving to the Philippines at 16, it was much tougher. “At the start of my childhood, [Oman] wasn’t really an inclusive place to be in because it is a Muslim country and is governed by an absolute monarchy,” he recalls. He felt that there wasn’t really space for him to learn about queer subjects until he had his own phone. He says, “I remember watching RuPaul’s Drag Race, a drag competition television show, when I was 12 or 13. I was like, ‘Damn, you can be gay and on TV.’” It was only then that he felt it would “just be okay if I can be fully myself ”.

And music has been a way for the queer singer to be himself. “All of the songs that I’ve written are inherently queer. They’re my lived experience. They’re all about love, about people I’ve been with or dated, and they’re all men,” he says. “It’s all about appreciating the moment that I was dealing with these people and making something out of that.

“I was already out by the time I launched my career, so my audience knows,” he says, adding that most of his fans are LGBTQ+ people and cisgender women. “It’s such a nice experience that I get to see [a diverse fan base] as I’m the one bringing them together.”

As important as the work being done by such musicians is, Leung believes it’s equally crucial that there is more, and better, public education about the LGBTQ+ community. To that end, Pink Dot Hong Kong has been organising public forums, talks and performances since it launched in 2013. Past editions featured Cantopop star allies such as Janice Vidal and Tyson Yoshi, and Eurovision-winning Austrian drag queen Conchita Wurst. Despite pandemic restrictions reducing the 2022 concert to a smaller-scale, indoor event, it still attracted 8,500 attendees. A full comeback is expected for this year’s edition in December.

He says entertainment is a softer way to draw more people into understanding the community, especially in Asia, where advocates are less outspoken than in the west. “For people outside of the community who have no understanding or association with us, if they are attracted by some of [what we offer], they will come to our events,” he says.

Some music labels are also initiating change at the management level. Warner Music Group became one of the first major labels to set up diversity, equality and inclusion (DEI) positions in Asia, starting by appointing Dr Maurice Stinnett as its global head of diversity in August 2020, who was then the only person of colour in the company’s C-suite. His team examines and improves, for example, hiring policies, “to get that diverse talent in the house”. He says the DEI concept has created “a little bit more psychological safety and an idea of openness the organisation might not have had before”.

In February 2022, the team launched the Global DEI Institute, which organises internal workshops on topics such as workplace inclusivity, anti-sexism and anti-homophobia. Stinnett has also initiated DEI celebrations in some Asian offices, including Japan, mainland China, Malaysia, South Korea and Taiwan, to promote and normalise conversations about LGBTQ+ issues.

The company continues to sign singers from the LGBTQ+ community and gives them opportunities not only as performers, but also as panel speakers. For instance, in Taipei last year, Warner Music sponsored the awards ceremony at the Q Power Festival, a cultural event, and lined up performances by LGBTQ+ artists, including Pavida, while calling on international stars including Anne-Marie, Charli XCX and Jason Mraz to film video clips delivering powerful messages of allyship and support.

Stinnett says the industry in Asia has greater representation of female and LGBTQ+ artists these days. “Many more artists are promoting social justice and equality through their music [by singing about] LGBTQ+ rights, mental health awareness and supporting marginalised communities,” he says. “The challenge for us as an industry is to get more of the great music being made here [in Asia] in front of the global audience.” Along the same lines, Pavida says she wants to hear more “new sounds” from the LGBTQ+ community detailing their experiences and stories, “hoping that the audience will [fully accept our identities] one day”.

Stinnett—who was raised by two dads and so for whom allyship is a core part of who he is—continues: “Historically, the LGBTQ+ community has experienced pain, discrimination and hatred.” He has made it his calling to “alleviate pain. [Other members of the LGBTQ+ community] are equally as important to me as my own family. Because we are a part of the human family.”

NOW READ

Pride and Prejudice: Why Is It Still So Hard for the LGBTQ+ Community to Form Families in Hong Kong?

Down syndrome in Hong Kong: How those with the condition navigate prejudice, lack of adequate support and an uncertain future

Sydney’s million-dollar art project puts Australian Aboriginal culture and Asian art at the forefront