A New Life in New Zealand.
Growing up in a small town in northern Malaysia, I spent my entire childhood in the closet. This was partly due to me attending an all-boys school; anyone deemed queer or effeminate would be bullied mercilessly by the other students. Even the teachers would chime in, preaching the horrors of homosexuality in classes and assemblies.
At the time when I began discovering my attraction to other boys, our then Deputy Prime Minister was sent to prison for having sex with another man. In a town where gay people were unheard of, and the subject was considered taboo, suddenly it was all everyone spoke about. Of course, none of these conversations were positive. I learnt early on that my feelings were to be buried deep, never seeing the light of day.
So life went on, with unrequited crushes on classmates and teachers alike. I discovered the internet, realised that there were others like me out there, and it was possible for me to be who I am in a different country. That knowledge spurred me on to work hard at school so I would one day be granted a scholarship to study abroad.
It all paid off in the end. At the young age of 20, I found myself on a plane to New Zealand, with about a dozen other scholarship students. To them, it was the start of an incredible adventure. To me, it was the start of a new life for myself. A life where I was free to be who I am, without fear of prosecution.
The next three years were the best of my life. I came out, I joined a gay choir, I was part of the annual pride parade, and I made lots of new gay friends. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t an other. I was simply part of a community of others who are just like me. I felt like I had finally found where I belong. I had fallen in love with New Zealand.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Being a scholarship student meant I was bonded to my origin country, and when the three years came to a close, I was forced to return. I tried applying to continue my studies, but it was rejected. Heartbroken, I packed up my belongings, said goodbye to all my friends, and got on the plane. In my heart, I promised myself that one day, I would return for good.
Several years went by. It was tough in the beginning, trying to resettle in a hostile environment, but I pushed through. I found solace in the friendship and community of other queer folk, albeit much less openly than before. These people kept me going through those difficult times, and I cannot thank them enough.
I was also fortunate enough to work for a company where I didn’t have to hide who I am. While there were certainly homophobic colleagues, the anti-discrimination policies prevented them from giving me any trouble. I worked hard and continued upskilling myself, with the aim of one day applying for a job in New Zealand.
Towards the end of 2021, when the world was slowly reopening post-covid, I began sending out job applications to companies in New Zealand. Every single one of them rejected me, as I didn’t have a work visa (which was ironic considering the only way I would have a visa is if they gave me a job). I almost gave up, but then I gave it one last try. I applied for a transfer within my company, which was almost unheard of.
Following months of anxiety and paperwork and waiting for people within the company to communicate with each other, my application was approved. I was ecstatic. The next few months went by in a blur, and before I knew it I found myself on a plane to New Zealand once more, a full decade after my very first trip.
It’s been six months since then, and I can honestly say I’m living my best life. Re-settling into the country after such a long time away isn’t without its challenges, but I have great friends who have been nothing but kind and helpful. In a way I feel like I’ve finally come home, to the place I love, where I hope to settle down and spend the rest of my life.
Growing up in a small town in northern Malaysia, I spent my entire childhood in the closet. This was partly due to me attending an all-boys school; anyone deemed queer or effeminate would be bullied mercilessly by the other students. Even the teachers would chime in, preaching the horrors of homosexuality in classes and assemblies.
At the time when I began discovering my attraction to other boys, our then Deputy Prime Minister was sent to prison for having sex with another man. In a town where gay people were unheard of, and the subject was considered taboo, suddenly it was all everyone spoke about. Of course, none of these conversations were positive. I learnt early on that my feelings were to be buried deep, never seeing the light of day.
So life went on, with unrequited crushes on classmates and teachers alike. I discovered the internet, realised that there were others like me out there, and it was possible for me to be who I am in a different country. That knowledge spurred me on to work hard at school so I would one day be granted a scholarship to study abroad.
It all paid off in the end. At the young age of 20, I found myself on a plane to New Zealand, with about a dozen other scholarship students. To them, it was the start of an incredible adventure. To me, it was the start of a new life for myself. A life where I was free to be who I am, without fear of prosecution.
The next three years were the best of my life. I came out, I joined a gay choir, I was part of the annual pride parade, and I made lots of new gay friends. For the first time in my life, I wasn’t an other. I was simply part of a community of others who are just like me. I felt like I had finally found where I belong. I had fallen in love with New Zealand.
Unfortunately, it didn’t last. Being a scholarship student meant I was bonded to my origin country, and when the three years came to a close, I was forced to return. I tried applying to continue my studies, but it was rejected. Heartbroken, I packed up my belongings, said goodbye to all my friends, and got on the plane. In my heart, I promised myself that one day, I would return for good.
Several years went by. It was tough in the beginning, trying to resettle in a hostile environment, but I pushed through. I found solace in the friendship and community of other queer folk, albeit much less openly than before. These people kept me going through those difficult times, and I cannot thank them enough.
I was also fortunate enough to work for a company where I didn’t have to hide who I am. While there were certainly homophobic colleagues, the anti-discrimination policies prevented them from giving me any trouble. I worked hard and continued upskilling myself, with the aim of one day applying for a job in New Zealand.
Towards the end of 2021, when the world was slowly reopening post-covid, I began sending out job applications to companies in New Zealand. Every single one of them rejected me, as I didn’t have a work visa (which was ironic considering the only way I would have a visa is if they gave me a job). I almost gave up, but then I gave it one last try. I applied for a transfer within my company, which was almost unheard of.
Following months of anxiety and paperwork and waiting for people within the company to communicate with each other, my application was approved. I was ecstatic. The next few months went by in a blur, and before I knew it I found myself on a plane to New Zealand once more, a full decade after my very first trip.
It’s been six months since then, and I can honestly say I’m living my best life. Re-settling into the country after such a long time away isn’t without its challenges, but I have great friends who have been nothing but kind and helpful. In a way I feel like I’ve finally come home, to the place I love, where I hope to settle down and spend the rest of my life.
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