Not Just Your Submissive Bottom

Reclaiming sex as a decolonial tool: A Filipinx-American man reflects on years of internalized racism and its impact on his sexual identity.

I once received a message on Grindr from a white man that said “Mmm, I love little Filipino bottom boys like you.” 

My profile didn’t state my position preference, yet my identity as a Filipinx man seemed to be all this stranger needed to make this false assumption and attempt to claim my sexual autonomy. This situation is a small glimpse into the traumatic social mistreatment BIPOC queer folks face when attacked via inherent racism within the community.

“Our positionality as bodies of color often means we are seen as a sexual commodity for white dominance and consumption.”

Our positionality as bodies of color often means we are seen as a sexual commodity for white dominance and consumption. We are overtly sexualized with racially rooted fetishes and are ostracized for not being sexually stimulating enough due to our non-Eurocentric bodies that don’t fit the mold of Western desirability.

In short, my brown skin both disgusts white men and fuels their predatory colonial tendencies.

My sexual truth is beyond being a submissive bottom — especially not one for a white man. I love sex and sexual exploration, but labels have hindered me from fully embodying my own sexuality throughout my life. I fluidly explore roles beyond the confines of what is expected of me as a queer Asian man, who may come off as femme. My truth is not shackled by what white men tell me to be. Instead, I break these molds through various aspects of my being — from exploring my sexual prowess to my experiences as a first-generation student of color in a white institution to being a journalist in white newsrooms across the country.

“In short, my brown skin both disgusts white men and fuels their predatory colonial tendencies.”

The process of discovering my own sexual autonomy specifically meant going beyond the racially rooted labels forced upon me. As a decolonial activist who uses critical race theory in his journalism, with the intent to dismantle race-based discrimination and institutionalized inequity, harnessing my own sexual autonomy was essential. 

Sex became a new weapon for me to dismantle racial power dynamics that hindered me in my community. It is a reclamation of my sexual being and a revision of what colonialists wrote my brown skin to be after they erased all the excellence and power my people exude.

Using my sexual awakening as a tool for activism to uplift myself was a revelation for me. Growing up, I was never strong enough to come to this realization. Labels such as “submissive” and “little Filipino boy” reiterated that my identity was destined for dominance. It began to feel like hot iron stamps on my skin, simply because of my skin, that I didn’t have the ability to overcome. 

Growing up Filipinx meant being immersed in a deeply problematic and self-hating culture. The community is complicit in many toxic cultural behaviors that uplift hyper-masculinity, colorism and body-shaming for our lack of Eurocentric features.

I was picked on for being too femme and therefore not a “man.” Countless times, I have seen the Philippines’ powerful beauty industry push for skin-lightening products. I have witnessed the beautiful-as-they-are women in my community receive comments to use papaya soaps to make their brown skin lighter, as if they needed to clean their skin to appeal to lighter-skinned beauty standards. My relatives would pinch my bigger-shaped nose with a laugh, signifying that my physical features were flaws simply because they did not conform to Eurocentric standards.  

“Growing up Filipinx meant being immersed in a deeply problematic and self-hating culture. The community is complicit in many toxic cultural behaviors that uplift hyper-masculinity, colorism and body-shaming for our lack of Eurocentric features.”

Being queer meant normalizing at a young age phrases like “no rice, no spice, no chocolate, no curry” and “no femmes, masc4masc only” on dating profiles. I’ve always been a hopeless romantic, wanting to find love even as a teen. I remember how damaging it was for my younger self to fall for someone, only to be turned down via these exact racist comments.

I, along with many other queer Filipinx folks, was living at the intersection of two communities that made us hate everything we were. So in order to fit in, to find love, to experience sex, to be normal… I conformed.

I assumed the role of being a submissive bottom to men who fetishized me for being a small Asian boy and tried to make myself seem “whiter” to those who completely rejected me because of my complexion. When you’re young, you crave belonging and do what you can to fit in to find your tribe. I consumed everything toxic from both of my communities and took their critiques to heart, growing incredibly body dysmorphic and insecure as I forced myself to comply with the demands of desirability. I just wanted to be loved.

I allowed this abuse to determine my sexual freedom; demean my golden-brown skin for its inability to fit in; and limit my ability to discover my sexual identity. However, as I grew older — and into my queer Asian autonomy –– I have been able to seek what I am beyond a white man’s gaze. I was able to question the roles I was given and muster the courage to counteract them with my body.

Am I bottom? Am I top? Am I dominant? Am I submissive? Am I well endowed? Am I kinky? Am I rough and dirty? Am I soft and affectionate? Yes.

I am it all. To say this out loud, to even type these words with my own hands, is powerful. To many, this act is simple, but for me it’s a new way to reclaim my power and use my body as a tool for activism. It actively combats years of my body being an object for consumption and belittling myself to the point of being used. I truly believed, with my entire being, that all I could ever be is a submissive body for a white man’s gain.

“The beauty within me was clouded by our world’s centrality of whiteness, caused by colonizers who have effectively pursued their goal in erasing my peoples’ legacy.”

When I looked in the mirror, I saw brown skin with a big nose and the opposite of the idealized white, masculine body that men craved. Little did I know that what my younger self saw was not a body that deserved to be shamed and contorted to fit a mold, but a body of shining, golden-brown skin with wider features that come from generations of strong, powerful beings. The beauty within me was clouded by our world’s centrality of whiteness, caused by colonizers who have effectively pursued their goal in erasing my peoples’ legacy.

I aim to restructure the ways in which bodies of color have been erased and actively combat perceptions falsely bestowed upon people like me. Sex is one of the many means of achieving this goal. When I have sex and use my body in any role or way I want, I am inherently giving myself the ability to pursue whatever it is I believe I deserve and dismantle external forces that try to prevent me from reclaiming my power.

I am and can be everything I want to be and more, within the bedroom or any other space anywhere in the world… and I can do it well.

“LET BOYS BE FEMININE”

Photographed by Mike Server
Styled by Jeline Catt
Models EJ Nacion, Sef Loseo