Today is the release of my debut adult graphic novel, Gaysians, published by Algonquin Books.

When AJ moves to Seattle in the early aughts, he’s ready to reinvent himself as a gay Asian man—but his dreams hit reality fast with no friends, no job, and an apartment so far out, “not even lesbians live there.” Then a spilled drink at a bar introduces him to K, a glamorous drag queen; John, a quiet gamer; and Steven, a reckless flirt. AJ’s “Boy Luck Club” helps him find love, pride, and belonging—until a brutal attack tests everything they know about friendship and family. 

It’s not often that we see queer Asian centered stories in Western culture. I wanted to make something that was for us. I wanted a story that honors our experience, a book that recognizes our common struggles, but also lifts us up to a place where we can laugh at our pain together. I want my Gaysian readers to feel at home in this story. In the same way I created Flamer for my 14 year old self, I made Gaysians for my early 20s self, a stumbling gay fawn just trying to make heads or tails of his new life as an out gay man.

In 2003, for not many reasons other than New York and San Francisco were not affordable, three of my friends and I moved to Seattle after graduating college. I came out during my senior year. My friends, though incredibly supportive, were mostly straight white folks. I felt like I was flailing in this new identity as a gay man (okay for about a year and a half I said I was bi. I needed a soft landing). When I got to Seattle, I was ready to start fresh. I remember the first time I went to Capitol Hill, Seattle’s gayborhood. I was by myself. I looked up a gay bookstore, the now defunct Beyond the Closet, on Pike and Belmont. I stood across the street and stared at it for a while. I looked around to see if anyone was watching. Then I realized, nobody knows me, and nobody cares! I marched over, probably pitting out like a mofo, and walked in. I also learned about an organization called Gay City (now known as Seattle’s LGBTQ+ Center). There was an organizing committee called Queercore that put on events like Coffee Talks (which I have to say like Mike Meyers imitating Linda Richman). I had the nerve to attend one of these by myself. I don’t remember what the topic was, but the moderator and another attendee would quickly become my gay adoptive parents.

For the first time I had friends who were gay and Asian. I didn’t realize it at the time, but the formation of these friendships were a pivotal moment for me. I had people in my life who understood me in a three dimensional way. They understood where I was coming from. You know what’s cool? Being yourself. Your full self. And not needing to explain that self. I reveled in it. I could be as prissy as I wanted, and it was welcomed and encouraged. My new friends taught me about gay culture 101. I finally had people I could talk to about gay sex. They taught me about rice queens and potato queens. They included me in their Sunday dim sum ritual. They took me to parties and clubs. They took me on trips. They were there as I took my wobbly first steps into dating, and caught me every time I fell down. (In this metaphor, it took me many years to learn how to walk). They taught me that I’m beautiful.

I dedicated this book to my friends, Bryan, Jay, and Sim, the originals. Though we’re far apart now, the love and connections are still there. Thank you friends, for being yourselves, for helping me find myself.

While much of this book is based in my own experience, I also interviewed many other people of varying ethnicities, gender identities, professions, economic backgrounds, and interests. Their stories and perspectives helped shape Gaysians in a profound way. I often had to write outside of my own experience, and I’m so grateful for their support in creating authentic characters. Many of the interviewees are illustrated in this scene of the book…

I have to give flowers to Amy Tan for writing The Joy Luck Club. Though I didn’t read the novel until adulthood, I was first introduced to the film as a teen, and I was (and continue to be) obsessed. I was so thirsty for Asian representation, and a strong female cast appealed to my femme sensibilities. I’m not a woman, nor Chinese, but I understood where these ladies were coming from. They gave me hope and strength. I often think of An-Mei asking her daughter what she’s worth. It’s a question I have asked myself throughout my life as I faced racism, homophobia, fetishism, toxic masculinity, classism, and all the rest. I find myself continually trying to answer the question “am I good enough?” Of course the answer is YES. But I need reassurances. I wanted to create something to help me, and others like me, feel that assurance. And to feel that worth, to know I deserve to be here, I have pursued joy. Wanting joy feels like an act of defiance. I choose my own version of happiness in a world that tries to dictate what happiness is and who is deserving of it. Defiant joy is something I have chosen for myself, and a value I have tried to instill in my characters, who call themselves “the Boy Luck Club,” my nod to Amy and the beautiful characters she created.

Gaysians is also a love letter to Seattle, a place I called home for a decade. It was the first place I felt comfortable in my own skin. I’m so grateful that I arrived during a time in the city’s history when Capitol Hill belonged to the gays and the creatives. I could finally allow my hips to sway ever so slightly. If a man was walking towards me, I could look at him and not be worried he’d take it as a threat. On a good day, I might even get a wink.

There are many nods to Seattle places and culture in the book. Some businesses are long gone, and I wanted to memorialize them. Others are still there and remain iconic. Sometimes I change the names of businesses, especially if there’s a good pun to be had. But some classics, you just can’t mess with.

Just to be clear, these characters are not just friends because they happen to be gay and Asian. They are friends because they see and understand each other. When the world tears them apart, when each fails to love and protect each other, they still manage to show up for each other in the end, and in doing so, they learn how to show up for themselves. A tested friendship becomes a chosen family, forged in the flames they are forced to walk through together. It’s a story of building community. It’s a story of striving to be your authentic self.

But the biggest bouquet I want to give is to my fellow Gaysians near and far. I wrote this book for you. Some will read it and say that they have never felt so seen. And they would be right. Others will read this book and say that I got it wrong. They are also right. We are not a monolith. We cannot be condensed into fewer than four hundred pages, and it would be impossible for me to write a story that captures the essence of every queer Asian person. But we do have some common experiences, and we do need representation. I wanted to write this story to let you know that I see you and I love you. I implore you to add to the story. Let’s write volumes together. It’s up to us to give each other the love and respect that is not always given by others. Let’s celebrate each other. I want us to smile when we look in the mirror, when we meet each other in person, and when we see ourselves in the pages of a book. Mahal kita.

Tonight is the official release party at Yu & Me Books, a queer Asian owned bookstore in Chinatown in NYC. I’ll be in conversation with Alexander Chee, a Gaysian legend. Check out the rest of my tour dates and join me if you can! If you can’t make it but would like a signed/personalized book (or 12), you can order from Comics and More, and I’ll sign it as soon as I’m back from my travels.