A NIGHT OUT WITH THE BOYS
The discursive and sexual practices surrounding bar-based male sex work in Bangkok, Thailand
Graeme Storer
Thesis submitted in fulfilment of the requirements for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy in the School of Sociology, Faculty of Arts and Social Sciences, University of New South Wales, Australia.
December 1999 U N S W 2 0 SEP M LIBRARY In loving memory of my mother, Moreen, and my Aunty, Joy. CERTIFICATE OF ORIGINALITY
I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no materials previously published or written by another person, nor material which to a substantial extent has been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at UNSW or any other educational institution, except where due acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the research by others, with whom I have worked at UNSW or elsewhere is explicitly acknowledged in the thesis.
I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project’s design and conception or in style, prese cknowledged.
(Signed^ Abstract
Set against a backdrop of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Thailand and the recent Asian economic crisis, this study focuses attention on the discursive and sexual interactions among bar-based male sex workers in Bangkok, the management of the bars in which they work and regular male customers of the workers.
A premise underpinning the study is that despite the boldness of the Thai Government’s public health campaign, a shift in the response to HIV/AIDS is timely in order to effectively address changing modes of HIV transmission. A second premise is that discussions about gender/sexuality have been dominated by a medicalised discourse, and that homosexuality has been largely removed from public health campaigns and from public purview. Drawing on ethnographic and social science research methodologies and critical discourse analysis, the study sets out to learn more about the complex interplay between homosexual and heterosexual contexts and, more generally, to broaden understandings of male sexuality.
At a macro level, the study asks: What are the traditions and discourses that contribute to constructions of gender in Thailand? How do these institutionalised practices constitute and regulate public discussions of sexuality? How are the discourses of male-male sex and male sex work shaped by medical and scientific literature, by the media and the arts? At a local level, the research focuses on how these discourses are displayed in talk and how they frame the interactions between Thai male bar workers and their customers.
In laying open the boundaries where these global and local representations of gender intersect and where meanings are reassigned, the study considers the significance male sex workers and their customers attach to their homosexual encounters, illustrates how notions of identity and identity maintenance affect behavioural norms and group identification and describes a set of correlates that intersect with the negotiation of sexual practice. Drawing on the research findings, the author concludes that gender categories are best understood as contingent and context- dependent practices, situated within a dynamic sexual ecology, and argues that this insight has equal significance for understanding heterosexual and homosexual, commercial and non-commercial and Thai and non-Thai socio-sexual contexts. Table of contents
Abstract
Table of Contents ii-iv
Acknowledgements v
List of figures and tables vii
List of abbreviations viii
Notes on terminology ix
Chapters One Setting the Context 1 Background to the study 1 Assumptions 6 Boom and bust economics 8 The extent of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Thailand 13 Bar-based male sex work 17 Meeting the research participants 21 Men who sell sex to men 23 Men who buy sex from men 31 The bar operators 33 The shape of things to come 35
Two Approaching the Research 38 Multiple perspectives in research 38 Carrying out the interviews 40 Notes on transcription 42 Interrogating the research process 44 Secondary and mediated data 45 Politicising the research interview 46 Who speaks? 50 Methodological framework for integrated data analysis 52 Language as social practice 56 Discourse communities 58 Critical sociolinguistics 59 Three Shaping a Discourse 65 Public voices/private lives 65 Tracking HIV/AIDS in Thailand 66 Shaping sexuality 68 Looking for the man 72 Why focus attention on homosexually active men? 75 Finding the man 81 Recruiting male commercial sex in Bangkok 81 Sexual networks for homosexually active men 83 Working with homosexually active men 88 Concluding remarks 91
Four Performing Masculinity 93 Sexual difference and the Thai context 93 A pragmatic view of sexuality 96 Doing the right thing 99 Representing the gay subject 104 Unsettling boundaries 106 A schema of oppositions 111 Writing sex work 113 Looking for community 117 Concluding remarks 121
Five Working the bars 123 Do you see anyone you like? 123 Entry into bar work 126 Learning the ropes 130 Managing impressions 137 Naming the bars 141 The work of the kaptan 146 An experienced hand 150 Who speaks to whom? 153 Concluding remarks 155
Six Talk about the Bars 157 Negotiating desire 157 Get the boy out of the bar 159 Oh no, I don’t kiss 162 Not all farang are good 165 Avoiding risk 167 Looking good 167 Use a condom every time 170 What’s love got to do with it? 173 Managing risk 177 They're all the same (the bar go-go) 178 Just like everyone else (the bar nang) 179 Reflecting on experience 181 Concluding remarks 184
Seven Bordering on Desire 186 A landscape of talk 186 Factors that interact with negotiation of the off 189 Language and negotiation 189 Perceived risk and prior experience 193 A clash of values 195 Identity performance and management 197 Intimacy 201 The protocol of service 204 Beyond the bars - a changing sexual ecology 208 Taking care of the self 212 Shifting focus 215 Reflexivity and the research economy 217 Final remarks 220
Appendices
I Notes on the Thai alphabet 222
II Glossary of Thai terms used 225
III Guideline focus questions for in-depthinterviews 230
IV Actions, interactions, decision making points 232
References 236
iv Acknowledgments
Without the supervision of Professor Susan Kippax (Director of the National Centre for HIV Social Research, University of New South Wales, Sydney) and Dr David M Halperin (School of Sociology, University of New South Wales, Sydney) this project might have lost all sense of direction. Professor Kippax’ insights into socio-sexuality and Dr Halperin’s comments on the historical constructions of male sexuality gave me the courage to think outside the box in which I had become wedged. I am indebted further to them both for their thoughtful suggestions during the final stages of the writing process. Throughout the course of the research, Dr Anthony Pramualaratana (Executive Director of the Thai Business Coalition of AIDS, Bangkok) acted as external supervisor. I sincerely thank him for the role he played as mentor and for his continual encouragement and advice on my reading of Thai social contexts. This work would not have been possible without the knowledge and experiences provided by the research participants, and I extend my sincerest gratitude to the male sex workers and other homosexually active men who so generously informed the study and who entrusted me with their life stories. I am indebted to a number of Thai academics and researchers with whom I was able to discuss the research data. In particular, I thank Ajarn Suntaree Komin (Deputy Director, Training Centre, Thai National Institute for Development), for her explication of the Thai value system; Dr Usa Doungsaa (Director of AIDSNet, Chiang Mai) for sharing her field experience and understandings of gender-based relations; Ajarn Yothin Sawangdee (Institute for Population and Social Research, Mahidol University), for his clarification of the nexus between migration, sex work and filial responsibility; Ajarn Wassana Im-em (Institute for Population and Social Research, Mahidol University) for arranging for me to speak at the Institute’s round table; Ajarn Sorani Wongbiasaj (Faculty of Humanities, Chiang Mai University) for her reading and interpretation of power and language in Thai social interactions; and Khun Chawalit Tantinimitkul (Planning and Evaluation Section, AIDS Division, Thai Ministry of Public Health) for assisting me with the epidemiological data and arranging access to the Division’s library. I also benefited from discussions with non-government organizations in Thailand, and I take this opportunity to thank Khun Anjana (Taeng) Suvarnananda from Anjaree; the late Khun Thawat Chaimongkol from the Prasaan Jai Rak Nong beats project in Chiang Mai; Khun Promboon Panitchthakdi and staff of the Rak Thai Foundation; Dr Scott Bamber from the AIDS Network Development Foundation (Northeast Thailand); Khun Jon Ungpakorn from ACCESS; Greg Carl of the Thai Red Cross; and Mr Paul L Toh (Community Mobilisation Advisor for UNAIDS, Bangkok). I began this research while a student at Macquarie University under the joint supervision of Professor C N Candlin and Dr Guenter Plum. I earnestly thank Professor Candlin for guiding me through the initial stages of the study and shaping my understanding of critical discourse analysis. I am ever grateful to Guenter for his important comments on methodology and narrative structure and for his editorial comments. I also profited from numerous discussions with Australian academics working in the field of Thai studies. Dr Peter A Jackson (Research Fellow, School of Pacific and Asian Studies, Australian National University, Canberra) brought a body of knowledge on Thai historical contexts and Asian sexualities. Dr Chris Lyttleton (Anthroplogy Department, Macquarie University, Sydney) provided considerable insight into the discursive formations surrounding HIV/AIDS in Thailand and on the changing ecology of the Thai AIDS epidemic; and Dr Malcolm McCamish (Department of Chemistry, Queensland University) offered advice on the contexts of male sex work and collaborated on the development of the sexual network diagrams. I am equally appreciative of all the friends who offered considerable encouragement and support over the period of the research: Denis Byrne for his unflagging enthusiasm and for our many talks on Orientalism and ‘looking’; Daniel Ng for putting me ‘straight’ on the multiple subject; William Savage and Matt Lascewski for their ongoing collegiate support; Chanin (Thor) Balasai for his companionship and his illustrations in chapter five; Alex (Apirak) Jaidee for his advice on Thai social values and for assisting with translation and transcription; Kath Copley for our many discussions about language and social practice; Dr Fred Shick for his expertise in the sociology of sex work; and Tiwa Napaamporn for his interest and advice. I also thank Professor Harry Wolcott (Department of Anthropology, University of Oregon) for his helpful comments on the ethnography of the bar sites. I offer special consideration to Mike Carroll, Jude Dowling, Robin Graeme- Holder, Ross Forman, Jill Keys, Allen Petersen, Padung (Tone) Kaewpradith, Khun Naiyana Thanawattho, Eak Virathep, Navamintr (Tom) Vitayakul, Jit Satewerawat, Terrence Hudspith and Thanet Nuansrichai. I sincerely acknowledge the support of the Lifeboat Foundation (Chicago) for their financial assistance during the final stages of the project.
Finally, my deepest appreciation goes to my family for their commitment to diversity and for encouraging me to explore life to the full.
Note: The proposal for this study was reviewed by the Macquarie University Ethics Committee.
vi List of Figures and Tables
Figures
1.1 Out in the field 5
1.2 Bangkok Rainbow Play Map 20
2.1 Methodological tool for an integrated data analysis 55
3.1 Map showing intersection of commercial and non 87 commercial networks
4.1 Nong Toom 108
4.2 Ekkalaphet - a schema of oppositions 112
5.1 The bar go-go 143
5.2 The bar nang 144
6.1 National AIDS Bulletin cover 169
7.1 Curious onlooker 214
Tables
1.1 Continued decrease in sexually acquired HIV among 15 young male Thai conscripts in northern Thailand.
2.1 Notes on transcription 43
2.2 Some terms that may be used for the pronoun ‘you’ 49
3.1 Sites where sexual recruitment of male sex workers can 82 occur in Bangkok
6.1 Factors interacting with negotiation of the off 207
vii List of Abbreviations
AIDS Acquired Immunodeficiency Disease Syndrome ACCESS AIDS Counselling Centres and Educational Support Services Aus. Australian as in $Aus (Australian dollars) BE Buddhist calendar eg BE2532 (1999) EMPOWER Education Means Protection Of Women Engaged in Recreation (Thai NGO working with female sex workers) FACT Fraternity for AIDS Cessation in Thailand FHI Family Health International GEAT Gay Entrepreneurs Association of Thailand HIV Immuno-deficiency virus ID Identity, as in ID card IDI In-depth interview IDU Injecting Drug Users MoPH Ministry of Public Health MSM Men who have Sex with Men NESDB National Economic and Social Development Board (Thailand) NGO Non-Government Organization R&R Rest and Recreation (leave given to soldiers while on tour of duty) RTA Royal Thai Army STD Sexually Transmitted Diseases TBCA Thai Business Coalition for AIDS TRA Theory of Reasoned Action UNDP United Nations Development Program WHO World Health Organization US United States, as in $US (Dollars US)
viii Notes on Terminology
Formal terms for male sex workers are sopheni chai (‘male prostitute’) or phoochai khai borikaan (men who sell a service). Thai male sex workers, irrespective of their age, are referred to as ‘boys’ or dek (lit. child, as in dek chai for boys and dek ying for girls). Hence, more colloquially, one hears dek khai tua (‘kids who sell their bodies’), phoochai khai tua (‘men who sell their bodies’), dek khai nam (‘a kid who sells water’, from nam asuji = sperm), or simply dek khai (‘a kid who sells). In the bars, the term dek is used more generally to denote someone young, usually younger than the client and reflects the social distance accorded to age in Thai contexts. It also reflects the low social and cultural status of male sex work. There is, of course, a certain amount of control exercised in this naming and I will avoid using ‘boy’ except in direct quotation. Otherwise, I will use ‘workers’, ‘bar workers’ or ‘the men’ to refer to the commercial male bar workers. Note also, that ‘sex worker’ will be used in preference to ‘male prostitute’ (unless in quotation) and as a substitute for the more cumbersome ‘male commercial sex worker.’
Historically, the term kathoey denoted a male or female who expressed hermaphrodite features or who exhibited behaviour considered inappropriate for their sex. Nowadays, the term is to almost exclusively used to refer to male to female transgenders (see Jackson and Sullivan 1999:4).
The term gay has been appropriated into the Thai vocabulary, particularly among middle class gay-identified men, as an alternate to the word kathoey. However, ‘gay’ will be only used when referring to men who self-identified as gay; otherwise, the expression ‘homosexually active men’ will include all male-male sex behaviours.
The term farang is used by Thais to refer to non-Asians and is also used here. The term ‘non-Thai’ will include to both farang and non-Thai Asians.
The term off (from the English word ‘off) has been inscribed into the vernacular of the bar, and is used by the workers when they ‘go off with a customer, for example, off laew (as when a customer has indicated that he wants to take a particular worker out of the bar). It may also be used to suggest agency, as in off khaek, when a worker is actively cruising (working) a customer, in which case it is used synonymously with another borrowed English term, work. The term off also describes the khaa off the fee paid to the bar by the customer when he takes a worker out (sometimes referred to as a ‘bar fine’). Note that the khaa off is in addition to the ‘tip’ the customer pays the worker for his services.
ix Other frequently used terms baht Thai ticals (Aus$l :00 ~ 24; US$1.00 ~ 38)
When the research began, US$1.00 was equivalent to 25 baht. Following devaluation, this went as high as 50 baht, finally settling at approximately 38 baht per US dollar. bar go-go A go-go bar, where the workers dance on stage, usually in g-strings, their underwear or in a particular bar uniform (such as brief white shorts). Each worker also wears a number (a regulation required by law). bar nang lit. the ‘sitting bar’, where workers sit to one side and customers generally make their selection after consulting with a head waiter. bar operators Owners or managers of the bars (also ‘management’). customers It has become common in the literature to refer to men and women who buy sex as ‘clients’, as a way of highlighting the professional and service nature of the work. However, the naming now appears to carry a sense of political correctness. I would prefer to use the term ‘men who buy sex from men’ except that it is a mouthful and its acronym (MBSM) is clumsy. I have chosen instead to use the Thai term khaek (lit. ‘guest’) or the English word, customer. cheer (from ‘to cheer for’) Used when a bar operator cheers (recommends) a particular worker, or when a worker recommends one of his workmates to a customer.
Isaan Northeast Thailand kaptan (from ‘captain’) The headwaiter in a bar. mama-san Refers to an older kathoey owner/manager.
More detailed notes on the Thai language are given in Appendix I.
In addition, a full glossary of the Thai terms used throughout the dissertation is provided in Appendix II. one
Setting the Context
Background to the study
When I first arrived to Bangkok in 1979, there were only a handful of ‘gay’ venues, mostly concentrated along the axis of Silom and Sukhumvit Roads in the inner city.1 The Rome Club, at the time a small upstairs bar on Silom Soi 4, offered disco and nightly drag shows. Further into the Soi, tucked away in half-dark, were two male go-go bars (commercial sex venues), one of which also offered a male massage service. Flarries Bar on Soi 2, a late night venue, presented a similar format to the Rome Club. Harries was also favoured by free-lance sex workers. A third male commercial sex venue was located next to Harries. Two other commercial sex venues were to be found in the vicinity - one on the corner opposite Soi 4 and the other on Patpong (the notorious heterosexual inner-city red-light district). A more ‘discreet’ male brothel, removed from the flashy neon lights of Patpong, was situated on the other side of Lumpini Park. Free-lance male sex workers were also to be found walking along the strip between Soi 2 and Soi 4. Late at night, the perimeter of Lumpini Park offered the promise of both commercial and non-commercial sex encounters. Unlike their female counterparts, the commercial and non-commercial
1 In 1980, the Spartacus International Gay Guide listed only ten gay venues in Thailand, all in Bangkok; Stamford 1980.)
1 male sex venues in Bangkok have always rubbed shoulders with each other, and the lines between the two are easily confused.
I lived in Bangkok for 15 years altogether, interspersed by a two-year period in Australia and two years in Cambodia. During that time, the Bangkok gay scene flourished, and by 1991, Eric Allyn’s Men of Thailand listed over 100 gay venues. Discos, pubs and restaurants catering to a mainly gay crowd lined Silom Soi 4 and provided men with places to meet, talk and cruise one another. A similar growth occurred on Silom Soi 2, culminating with the opening of DJ Station, a disco that soon eclipsed the Rome club as the venue for gay men. Gyms and saunas sprung up across the city, supplying sex-on-premises venues, alternatives to the short-time hotel and a complement to an already well-established (though largely underground) network of male-male cruising sites. Additionally, magazines published by and for Thai gay men abounded (Jackson and Sullivan 1999:3)
An attendant growth in the number and variety of venues offering male-male commercial sex services also occurred (Bai-ngern 1994; Raymond 1997; Chin and Moreau 1988), and more than fifty commercial venues are now located throughout Bangkok city. These include go-go bars, saunas and gyms providing erotic massage, karaoke bars, male escort agencies, and clubs (Jackson 1995; Allyn and Chaiyana 1997; Storer 1999a; McCamish et al. 2000). In addition, free-lance workers are found walking the streets or cruising the parks, shopping centres, discos, cinemas and other sites frequented by homosexually active men (Narvilai 1994a, 1994b; Poshyachinda and Danthamrongkul 1996).
These changes all took place as the local Thai economy flourished (Da Grossa 1989; Phongphaichit et al. 1998:196). Single unattached men in Bangkok, earning
2 " It is difficult to estimate the exact number of male commercial establishments in Bangkok: venues are continually closing and re-opening; different sources carry different advertisements; and not all bars advertise. Issue 45 of MALE magazine, for example, listed twenty-six bars and four saunas in the inner city (with three of the four saunas providing erotic massage services); forty-one suburban bars (sixteen in the Sukhumvit area); and sixteen suburban saunas, the majority of which also provided commercial sex services {MALE 1999, No. 45:114-15). The list was by no means exhaustive, however, with the 7th edition of Men of Thailand (Allyn and Chaiyana 1999) offering a different list of commercial sex venues across the city. Other sources include Hammer (1997), Pink Map Bangkok (1998) and the Utopia home page:
2 enough money to be economically independent, began to seek out new ways to spend their money. The parallel growth of other Asian economies and the expansion of the Thai tourist sector added to the demand for venues providing opportunities for men to meet men.
For performance artist, Michael Shaowanasai, Thailand has been marked by its reputation as a sex paradise, but one in which both hearts and souls have become commodified objects of desire. In 1997, Shaowanasai mounted an exhibition, Welcome to My Land, to critique the site of male commercial sex, particularly, men who buy sex from men. For Shaowanasai, ‘land’ is a bordered space: “a territory, a house, my own body even” (in Phataranawik, 1997:3). But borders move and change and his exhibition set out to explore these shifting spaces. I visited the exhibition in March 1997:
I pushed through the pink shower curtain of the main entrance to find myself in a small office-cum-foyer. After being given a red heart-shaped badge (# 83), I was lead into the exhibition space by Michael. The first thing I saw was a large free standing canvas on which was painted a muscled Thai man in red underwear. A number was pinned to his underwear and a tiger was tattooed across his chest. A hole had been cut in the canvas where the head should be. At this point the show began, for Michael invited me to stand on the box behind the canvas and put my head into the empty space. A quick Polaroid and I, the viewer, became the viewed and my photo was added to others pinned to a second exhibition piece, above which was written: ‘See Boys, Feel Boys.’ Michael explained: I was told that there are an estimated 80,000 male sex workers in Thailand. You ’re the eighty-third person to come to the exhibition, so that makes you sex worker number 80,083. Welcome to my land!
A third installation consisted of two large panels that converged towards a small stage. On the left panel, written in English were the thoughts of a bar worker as he looked at his customers. The writing on the second panel was in Thai. But there was no equivalence between the thoughts: those written in English were in pink letters and were admiring: I love you - take me; Oh, you are so handsome; You big strong man - choose me. Those written in Thai were in large red letters and were anything but flattering: I’m bored; When you have sex with me it hurts - when will you finish? Boy does he smell bad; I miss my wife. On the stage was a stainless steel go-go pole. A set of headphones hung down from the top of the pole. Again Michael invited me to ‘step up’, this time onto the stage. I put on the headphones. He then turned on a video, which instructed me (very Jane Fonda) how to be exotic. I learned to go-go dance, how to look back at the customer and how to ask for money.
3 Afterwards, Michael talked to me about his experiences growing up in the US, and the tensions he had experienced between the exotic and erotic. I began to think about those Thai men who say they only ever have sex with farang and how that positions farang men. (field notes 07/03/97)
One night, I was sitting in the Milk Bar, a small pub opposite the Rome Club. At about 11:30, the owner and three other Thai friends got up to leave. When I asked them where they were going, they replied: We ’ll be back shortly. It was a couple of weeks before they told me they had been to see an all-male sex show at The John, a go-go bar nearby. The John was the first of the commercial sex venues to feature male-male sex shows and became an overnight success. Other bars quickly followed the lead, interlacing their shows with erotic dancing by men lathered in soap or covered in oil, with fire-eating, and the like (Chin 1999). The bars became highly charged by the ever-present naked and semi-naked bodies acting out performances that both objectified and valorised masculinity.
When my friend Denis visited Bangkok, I took him to watch the show at Big Boy. He later described his experience as redolent with desire and overwhelming... an intersection of looking - the gaze of the boys and customers continually intersects. And yet: when you see the guys in their street clothes, they are better looking than on the catwalk. They seem more legitimate objects of desire somehow (field notes 08/08/96). Like Shaowanasai, Denis pinpoints the multiple intersections and inherent contradictions at play in the bars: local and tourist, Asian and farang (non-Asian), gaze and desire, pleasure and work, exotic and erotic, gay and straight, and macho and lady boy. It is these intersections - where borders become bluirred and indistinct, and where meanings are articulated and contested (Bhaba 1994:269-70) - that are of particular interest to me in this study. * l°o f> *
Figure 1.1 Out in the field: The author at Michael Shaowanasai’s performance installation, Welcome to My Land (March 1977)
5 Assumptions
My decision to focus attention on the interactions between Thai male bar workers and their customers was motivated by a number of premises: first, the sex industry in Thailand combines an indigenous and tourist economy.1 In Bangkok, non- Thai customers are to be mainly found in the clubs and bars located in inner-city areas like Patpong or along parts of Sukhumvit Road. A local (mainly Thai) clientele is predominant in suburban locations or in the provinces. But, as noted above, borders are never tidy, and the Thai male sex worker may be called on to interact and negotiate with both Thai and non-Thai customers, that is, in either his first language (Thai) or a second language (for example, English or Japanese). A number of questions sprung to mind. Would sex workers marshal different discursive strategies in their interactions with their Thai customers than with their farang or Asian customers? Would it be it more difficult to manage the interactions with farang than with Thai customers? If yes, how would such differences be marked linguistically? What does having sex with another man mean to a male sex worker? What significance do workers attach to their interactions with personal partners?
Second, studies of Thai male commercial sex work report that the majority of the workers are behaviourally bisexual and compartmentalise their commercial and recreational encounters (Kunawararak et al. 1995; Nopekesorn et al. 1991; Sittitrai et al. 1994a). Many of the customers are also bisexual and some are married (Storer 1999a, 1999c). All of this points to complex and overlapping sexual and social net works for male bar workers and their customers. It seemed to me, that male sex work provides a context where hetero-sex and homo-sex converge and where terms like ‘gay’, ‘homosexuality’, and even ‘heterosexuality’, lose currency.
Third, a general reluctance to openly discuss homosexual behaviours in Thai society and the need to be discreet (Sittitrai et al. 1991; Rattachumpoth 1997) has, in general, separated male homosexuality from public discourse and rendered the Thai
2 De Lind van Wijngaarden, in his study of male sex work in the northern city of Chiang Mai (1996) found that 20 percent of the male customers of male commercial sex venues were resident expatriates; another 20 percent were male tourists; and 50-60 percent were Thai.
6 lesbian invisible (Storer 1999b).4 This, despite the fact that my description above of Thailand’s burgeoning ‘gay’ scene suggests a tolerance of same-sex behaviours. One consequence of this separation is that homosexuality has been largely absent from the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign and from the discourses surrounding HIV/AIDS (Lyttleton 1995b; Storer 1999a). As a result, the behaviours and HIV risks among homosexually active men are less known and understood than those among heterosexually active populations (Beyrer 1998; McCamish et al. 2000). Given the complex and overlapping sexual and social networks for homosexually active men in Thailand, is there a need to reassess this ‘gap’?
Fourth, early on in the Thai response to HIV/AIDS, a number of non government organizations (NGOs) and social scientists called on HIV policy makers to recognise the differences in behaviour condoned for Thai men and women, and to acknowledge that imbalances of power in their relationships with men has been a key factor in placing Thai women at risk of HIV infection (see, for example, Asavaroengchai 1994). I became interested, more generally, in how men learn and internalise gender inequalities and whether or not similar chauvinistic attitudes would be reflected in relationships among homosexually active men. What asymmetries of power prevail, for example, in the interactions between Thai male sex workers and their customers? How are patron-client relations between men characterised? How do class and age intersect with homosexual relationships? How are such imbalances discoursed, enacted and performed? It was from these initial prompts that the research began to take shape.
Thus far, I have outlined my interest in the contexts of male-male sex and male sex work in Bangkok. I have also sketched the emergence of a vibrant ‘gay’ market place. In the next section, I will argue that the growth of the Thai gay scene was fuelled in part by the concomitant and rapid economic development that took place in Thailand in the 80s.
4 I wish to imply agency here, as in the German verb totschweigen (lit. make non-existent), meaning to silence by not mentioning something. Boom and bust economics
He is living now in a city in which he is the witness of luxury. Some of it shocks him, some of it impresses him. But the signs of it, the fact that he is witness of it entails a promise, a promise addressed to him by simple virtue of his being there. Berger and Mohr, A Seventh Man (1975:132)
While Thailand’s economy grew quite strongly in the 1960s and 1970s, many attributed this growth to the volume of money that had been pumped into the country by the US during the Vietnam war, both in the form of bilateral aid and money paid out by ‘our boys’ who were visiting Thailand on rest and recreation (R&R).5 In fact, the economy did falter in the early 1980s when oil price hikes and the foreign debt triggered inflation, but it soon took off again, and in the period 1985-1995, Thailand recorded real average annual growth of 8.4 percent in gross domestic profit (Phongphaichit and Baker 1998). Thailand became one of the fastest growing economies in the Asia-Pacific region.
The effects on the shape of the Thai economy were dramatic, with rapid changes in the structure of production. In 1980, for example, three-fifths of Thailand’s exports originated from agriculture. By 1985, as investment of both foreign and local capital brought about a surge in the production of textiles, electronics, jewellery and other export-oriented goods, over four-fifths of Thailand’s export earnings came from manufacturing (Phongphaichit and Baker 1998:3-4). Decreases in employment
During this period Thailand gained a reputation as an R&R site for (mostly American) soldiers serving overseas, a reputation fastened onto particular presumptions of masculinity that “sustain soldiers’ morale and discipline” (McEnloe 1993:23-4). Presumably the soldiers on R&R also visited temples, went to restaurants and shopped in addition to unwinding in the bars, and it was the infrastructure built up during the Vietnam war period that supported the subsequent growth of the Thai tourist industry (Ford and Koetsawang 1991), as did the ensuing inflow of international ‘tourist troops’ (Sittirak 1992:99). International and local businessmen, needing to unwind after a day at the office, also benefited from these ‘developments’. As Lyttleton observes, “tourism has been a fundamental spur to economic development and Thailand has, in no small part, been sold to the foreign tourist market with the suggestion of readily available cheap sex” (2000:149). It is important to note, however, that Thailand’s reputation as a pleasure port was fuelled by both orientalist imaginings (see, for example, Cohen 1996; Ernie 1997) and from within. As early as 1949, for instance, a comprehensive guidebook to Bangkok’s female commercial sex venues, described a “Land of magic charm, of glorious moonlight night, of love and smiles that thousands are lost in conjecture and dreams... adorned by beautiful young women” (Dream Lover 1949:1).
8 opportunities in rural areas coincided with government support for expansion of the industrial sector. These changes in rural economies were offset to some extent by new job opportunities for both urban populations and rural migrants in the manufacturing and service sectors, and by soaring wages for skilled and semi-skilled workers.6
Changes in social relations and self conceptions also became evident as rural families increasingly found themselves positioned by Bangkok television: luxury consumer goods “obtained first by the Thai elites, and later by villagers as symbols of ‘modernisation’ ...[became] the ‘objects’ of class identification” (Charoensin-o-larn 1988:210) and a metaphor for the first steps out of poverty. Khun Sulak Sivaraksa (1990, 1996) maintains that the Thai intellect has been seduced and colonised by a culture of ‘wants’ and ‘needs.’ Further, this culture, along with the increasing alienation of farmland from small land holders to landlords and investors (Fordham 1997) and a lack of regular employment in rural areas, has fuelled the flow of migrants to the major cities in search of work and a ‘better’ life (Funashi 1996), thereby separating rural populations from traditional family and community ties (Sivaraksa 1990; Winichakul 1995, 1996). It is important to note, however, that rural-urban migration is not a ‘new’ phenomenon - nor is the centrality of the Bangkok economy.7 Nevertheless, migration has become a necessary adjunct to village agrarian
6 The development model pursued by Thailand during these heady years has been subject to considerable criticism. As early as 1982, Pasuk Phongphaichit argued that Thailand’s economic strategy was based externally on accepting a dependent and vulnerable role in the world economy, and internally on keeping the primary sector in a dependent and tractable state. Thus, while stimulation of the agricultural economy in the early 1970s did lead to increased productivity, it also led to a decrease in opportunities for wage employment in rural areas, particularly for women (Gillies et al. 1996). For Charoensin-o-larn (1988:255), rural areas have been exploited for the growth of capitalism by providing cheap food, raw materials and labour to the industrial sector. Sinith Sittirak also expresses her concern regarding Thailand’s drive to pull itself forward: she argues “instead of achieving progress ...our physical and cultural environments have been destroyed in order to serve the consumptive habits of a few hegemonic interests” (1996:xx). 7 O’Connor (1995) argues persuasively for re-thinking the nostalgia for the countryside that has dominated Southeast Asian studies. What is needed, he suggests, is “a conceptual shift from our rural/urban dichotomy to South-east Asia’s city/society dyad. Splitting rural from urban distorts how the South-east Asian city is at once a centre and the whole” in which the city and society function in hierarchal opposition (O’Connor 1995:30). Further, he argues, urbanism is an “historical and cultural complex that grows by elaborating status distinctions that create meaning and structure society” (O’Connor 1995:30-31). The capital city has always been a generative environment for cultural, literary and scientific ideas, and acted as the gatekeeper to the outside world. Thus, while the sheer size of Bangkok may be new, the centrality of Thailand’s capital is well established.
9 communities, an entrepreneurial move designed to sustain family units and rural economies (Phongphaichit 1981, 1982; Sittirak 1996). Indeed, sending money home to families is a common practice among rural-urban migrants, a practice that is intrinsic to the fundamental Thai cultural value of exhibiting bhunkun or indebted goodness to one’s parents (Komin 1991:139).
But urban work opportunities for those with minimum education are limited (Archavanithkul & Guest 1994; Giles et al. 1996), and the majority of migrant workers find themselves confined to the service sector (waiters in restaurants and behind-the- scenes staff in hotels), or to the industrial sector (cheap labour for factories and infra structure projects). All the same, while wages in these sectors have remained low (Archavanithkul & Guest 1994; Giles et al 1996), wage employment has afforded village youth a disposable income and the excitement of something more. With money in pocket, and removed from sometimes sheltered village norms, migrant youth living in cities like Bangkok are furnished the opportunity to experience a ‘modern’ life, experiment with new values, and explore their sexuality (Chayan 1993; Ford and Kitthisuksathit 1994; Fordham 1997; Blazer 1996; Srisonsri and Balzar 1996; Pramualratana 1998).
As in the rural environment, employment opportunities for women in the industrial sector have been more limited than those for men and generally less well paid, so that while the women are able to support themselves, they are not always able to perform their filial duty (bunkhun) to send money home to their parents. A number of authors assert that industrial development has underpinned the flow of women from rural areas into commercial sex work in the major cities (Archavanitkul and Guest 1994; Boonchlaksi and Guest 1994; Hantrakul 1988; Phongphaichit 1982; Richter et al. 1997; Sittirak 1996), a flow further encouraged by the relaxation of social prohibitions from families in poor villages who experience the financial benefits to be gained from daughters working in brothels (Pongpaichit 1982).
As we shall see in chapter three, sexuality is conceived as a ‘double standard’ in Thailand, with different boundaries for men and women. Lyttleton (forthcoming) argues, for instance, that men are able to exhibit bunkhun by ordaining as monks and are, thus, provided with an avenue to leave family responsibilities behind. Women,
10 however, are excluded from this form of merit making. This may explain, in part, Van Griensven et al.’s conclusion (1995:564) that Thai women feel a greater responsibility for the well-being of their family than do Thai men and may feel ‘obliged’ to take up sex work to fulfil their responsibilities.
Nevertheless, the separation of Thai women and men from a rural lifestyle has fostered an economic climate that favours the sexual exploitation of the female and, increasingly, the male body (Lyttleton 1994a, 2000). Thus, while wages from daughters in Thai families provide an important contribution to the family economy and can make up more than a quarter of the total household income (Kaosa-ard et al. 1993), men too have been attracted to sex work, and for the same reasons - sex work holds the promise of high earnings and, in many instances, a degree of autonomy over
o one’s life. McCamish (1997), in documenting how male sex workers in Pattaya provide support to other family members back home, clearly demonstrates that the male sex worker is also aware of and subject to filial responsibilities. My own data (below) reinforce his conclusions.
But the golden days of heady spending were not to last, and in 1996, the Thai economy began to sour. Export growth slumped from over 20 percent to zero; and the stock market lost two-thirds of its value. In 1997, the currency plummeted from around 25 baht to over 50 baht to the US dollar (approx. 30 baht per Australian dollar). The biggest finance firm collapsed. The shock of the failure of the economy spread to other countries in the region.89 It appears that the bursting of Thailand’s
8 Estimation of the number of commercial sex workers in Thailand is subject to debate: there has been no official census or systematic survey and estimates vary from 65,000 to 2.8 million. Boonchalaksi and Guest (1994:29-33) estimate that at any one point in time, 150,000 to 200,000 women are involved in sex work. Sittitrai and Brown (1991) have also arrived at the same estimate, as has the police department. Because of the turnover in the industry there could be 200-300,000 women in the sex industry in any one year (Phongphaichit et al. 1998). The figures for the number of commercial sex workers do not include the less-structured free lance market, which operates through discos, department stores and other places. Figures, when available, rarely include male sex workers. The situation is further complicated by the ambiguous contexts in which commercial sex may be transacted (Cohen 1987, 1996; ten Brummelhuis 1993; Lyttleton 1994a; Bamber et al. 1997; McCamish 1997). 9 The debate about the dimensions, causes and impacts of the crisis will continue for some time, through various factors have been pointed out: Japan’s economy was faltering on the edge of recession; the withdrawal of investment capital back into Europe and the US; a lack competitiveness in Thai business and industrial operations due to the rising value of the US dollar (and the artificial peg in the exchange rate maintained by the Bank of Thailand);
11 ‘bubble economy’ has also lead to a slow down in the sex industry, and like most other sectors in Thailand, the sex industry is suffering from recession: the predominantly local clientele is hurting financially; foreign tourist arrivals have dropped off; and many of the regular expatriate customers have been sent home by their cash-strapped companies. One survey of female commercial sex establishments in January 1998, for example, showed a slight increase in the number of such establishments but a reduction in demand for female commercial sex services - down from four clients per day in 1997 to three every two days in 1998 - though it could also be claimed that these figures are a reflection of the force of the Government’s HIV/AIDS public health campaign. Further, while the findings demonstrate a reduction in demand for female commercial sex services, they do not say anything about casual sex encounters, or about free-lance commercial sex services (Pothisiri et al. 1999:14).
As demand falls, so remuneration also drops. At the same time, however, there is even greater pressure for those women and men under economic compulsion to enter part-time or free-lance sex work, and anecdotal evidence suggests that there are now more male and female free-lance sex workers than before (Bangkok Post 1997c). Van Griensven and Kunanosont (1999), for example, suggest that more young men are being driven into sex work because of the economic crisis.10
The third strand in the backdrop to this study is HIV/AIDS. In chapter three, I will discuss in detail the extent of HIV/AIDS in Thailand and the manner in which HIV/AIDS has been discoursed. My interest will be to show how the meanings, which have grown up around HIV/AIDS, reinforce a particular understanding of gender and sexuality within Thai contexts. I provide here, by way of introduction, a broad over view of the progress of the epidemic and the Thai Government’s response. growth was contingent on cheap labour and imported raw materials; and poor investment meant there were a large number of ‘non-performing loans.’ In addition, a failure in the bureaucracy and in politics had given businessmen a free hand in determining the economy. Like missionaries, many of the businessmen came to do good, but ended up doing well. Phongphaichit and Baker (1998:6) sum it all up: “free-for-all is not the same as good for all. Indeed free for-for-all tends to mean good-for-some” (original emphasis). 10 The following posting on the SEA-AIDS bulletin (www.hivnet.ch:///aids99 [517]) highlights the concerns: ‘Economic crisis fuels Thai flesh trade.’ Thailand’s economic meltdown doubled unemployment to more than two million people (or 6 percent) and pay cuts reduced living standards for millions more.
12 The extent of the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Thailand
The earliest cases of HIV in Thailand were recorded in 1984 in men who have sex with men. Three years later, HIV transmission via male-male sex as a major causal factor was overshadowed by the rapid increase in infection among injecting drug users (IDU), and later, among female commercial sex workers. This, in turn, was followed by another wave of infection in clients of commercial sex workers and, subsequently, female partners of men frequenting commercial sex venues. The most recent phase of the epidemic is in children of infected mothers (Poolcharoen et al. 1998; Pramualratana 1998).
Figures released by the Division of Epidemiology at the Thai Ministry of Public Health (MoPH)11 indicate that around one million people have been infected with HIV. Further, estimations of HIV infection developed by the National Economic and Social Development Board (NESDB), suggest that cumulative HIV infections in the year 2000 will be approximately 1.3 million people, of whom 470,000 will have AIDS (quoted in Pramualratana 1998). The majority of people living with HIV/AIDS are between the ages of 20 and 34, and represent the more sexually active population group. Men make up about 75 percent of the total. Farmers and farm workers, along with wage labourers, account for the largest proportion (close to 70 percent) of those living with HIV/AIDS, though it is likely that people in higher income earning occupations are also infected but not reported. Heterosexual transmission remains the most important mode of transmission in Thailand, accounting for about 80 percent in actual numbers, though injecting drug use is assuming greater importance in the
11 HIV/AIDS Update in Thailand, June 1999. Produced by the AIDS Division, Department of Communicable Control, Thai MoPH. 19 Data that show large proportions of low-income populations infected with HIV suggest that the epidemic is disproportionately affecting poor people. Significantly, the working conditions in ‘low-class’ brothels (vis-a-vis number of clients serviced daily) place female commercial sex workers in these establishments at high risk of infection (Celentano et al. 1994; Phanuphak, Sittitrai et al. 1994; Podhista et al. 1994). However, as Pramualratana (1998) comments, we should not let the epidemiology mask the fact that both poor and wealthy share similar values and practices in commercial sex visitation; the implication of lower HIV prevalence in higher income groups is certainly not due to their higher moral standards. Further, most of those in higher income brackets would be getting care at private hospitals or clinics at their own exp&nse, ensuring that their HIV status remains confidential.
13 epidemic (van Griensven and Kunanosont; Nelson, Eiumtrakul et al. 1999), with approximately 45 percent of IDUs infected with HIV. The good news is that the number of new infections has now begun to slow down, a success that may be attributed to the Thai Government’s committed and pragmatic public health response to the epidemic and the Government’s ability to mobilise resources, both locally and internationally (Poolcharoen et al. 1998). Building on an already well-developed health infrastructure, a strong community development presence, and a pervasive mass media reach, Thailand’s multi-sectoral approach to AIDS prevention and care has produced significant reductions in risk behaviour, declines in STD rates, and drops in HIV incidence (Nopekesorn et al. 1991, Nopekesorn, Mastro et al. 1993; Nopekesorn, Sweat et al. 1993; Nelson 1996; Nelson et al. 1997, 1999; Brown 1997; Hanenberg and Rojanapithayakorn 1998). Nelson et al (1999), for example, report that lifetime visits to sex workers among cohorts of 21- year old military conscripts in the North dropped from 81.4 percent to 38.0 percent between 1991 and 1998, while reported condom use in these visits grew from 61.0 percent to 95.8 percent (Table 1.1). As a result, reported lifetime STD experience fell from 42.2 percent to 6.6 percent. The overall HIV prevalence for military conscripts in the north fell from 10.4-12.5 percent to 6.7 percent between 1991 and 1995; for those men who only visited commercial sex workers after 1992, HIV prevalence was a low 6.7 percent (Nelson 1996). (Note that the Thai army conscripts provide a good index of the general prevalence of HIV in this population because of their means of selection; men with histories of drug use, male-male sex or HIV positivity are not 13 excluded from conscription.)
13 The figures for HIV prevalence in Thailand reflect a well-developed surveillance system that has allowed the government to systematically track the progress of the epidemic. Other countries in Asia, operating under different cultural and religious norms, have been slower to respond. Some have even managed to bolster their conservatism and avoid publicly addressing sexuality by construing Thailand’s epidemic as a metaphor for promiscuity. In the Philippines, for example, sexuality has remained cloaked in puritanism (see, for example, ‘Condoms are for animals says Cardinal, Bangkok Post, 1997, p.4). Fortunately, the Philippines have been able to draw on the dedication of its NGO community to balance the government’s inaction. In India, the response was painfully slow, despite the fact that epidemiological surveillance pointed to an alarming situation (Beyrer 1996; Godwin 1998). In Cambodia, where the health system is almost non-existent, HIV infection levels in blood donors in Phnom Penh grew from below 0.1 percent to over 6 percent in less than five years while levels of HIV have been found to be as high as 49 percent among some groups of female sex workers (Brown 1997).
14 Table 1.1 Continued decrease in sexually acquired HIV among young male Thai conscripts in northern Thailand (Source: Nelson, Eiumtrakul et al. 1999). a. Sexual Behaviour Among Royal Thai Army Conscripts (1991-1998) Year/Cohorts Number Sex (ever) CSW sex CSW sex History of (ever) (last year) STD 1991(1+2) 1819 92.3% 81.4% 59.1% 42.2% 1993(3+4) 1667 93.35 80.7% 44.3% 32.3% 1995 821 87.2% 63.8% 23.8% 15.7% 1996 820 87.19% 56.1% 17.7% 13.2% 1997 835 61.9% 46.1% 11.4% 4.4% 1998 682 63.9% 38.0% 8.6% 6.6%
b. Condom used for last sex with a CSW - RTA conscripts Year/Cohorts Total Numbers Percent 1991 (1+2) 1482 908 61.0% 1993 (3+4) 1346 1125 83.6% 1995 524 485 92.5% 1996 460 429 93.3% 1997 385 370 96.1% 1998 259 248 95.8%
But while the Thai Government’s HIV/AIDS strategy has been effective in raising condom use in brothels, there is now evidence that other forms of risk behaviour are growing in relative importance. Because the force of the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign has been directed at the female sex worker, condom use has, in many instances, been conflated with sex work. Thus, while we see a decrease in visits to brothels and an increase in the use of condoms in brothel settings, we also see men turning to other avenues to meet sex partners, such as restaurants and discos (Brown et al. 1994; Lyttleton 1999). Further, reported condom use in commercial sex settings is high, but reported condom use in other settings remains low (Bhatiasevi 1996). National surveillance among factory workers, for example, found 25 percent of 25 to
15 29-year-old females had at least one casual sexual contact in the previous year, but that only 5 percent reported using condoms (Ungchusak 1996). This reality is apparent in the increasing infection rates among pregnant women (MoPH Update, June 1999).
Further, there are real concerns about the effects of the economic downturn on the epidemic and whether or not the Thai Government will be able to sustain the momentum of the HIV/AIDS campaign. Thus far, the budget allocation for HIV/AIDS has been maintained (Poolcharoen et al. 1998) but costs have increased as resources have become scarce, and since mid-97, the economic crisis has placed severe constraints on public spending, including public health and HIV/AIDS pro grammes. Further, AIDS programming is inter-sectoral and involves a number of Ministries whose budgets have been reduced (Pothisiri et al. 1999:4-8). Slashed government spending threatens already threadbare social security networks.14
In chapter three, I will posit an argument that is central to my thesis, namely that despite the boldness of the Thai HIV/AIDS strategy and the obvious successes of the public health campaign, a shift in the response to HIV/AIDS is timely in order to effectively address the changing modes of HIV transmission (see also Hanenberg and Rojanapithayakorn 1998; Lyttleton 1999), a shift that is becoming increasingly more critical in view of Thailand’s economic situation and the resultant strain on resources.
14 In 1998, the MoPH budget was cut from 70.145 million baht to 59.92 billion baht, a 14.58 percent reduction (though both the education and health ministries had smaller cuts than other ministries, resulting in higher total budget shares of 18.6 and 7.5 percent respectively). In the fiscal budget period 1997-98, the MoPH AIDS budget suffered a 24.7 percent reduction. In the period 1998-99, the situation was reversed with the AIDS budget more or less preserved while the non-AIDS budget was further reduced by 8.9 percent (Pothisiri et al. 1999:4-8). Indirect cuts were felt through the reduction of funds for non-AIDS programmes, for example, supplies for universal precautions, increased service costs and allowances for fieldwork. A reduction in the distribution of condoms and the possible impact on the commercial sex industry is an area of considerable concern. Perhaps the biggest worry is what this will mean in terms of support for on-going AIDS programs and projects. The crisis is causing a considerable strain on non-government organizations (NGOs) and government reductions in the provision of prevention and care services. One consequence of this will be further delays in addressing levels of discrimination and stigmatisation (Pramualratana 1998). Other inequities are heightened, especially in terms of treatment possibilities: even before the crisis, therapies for people living with HIV/AIDS were too expensive, and there are reports of people who are HIV positive giving up their drug treatments as family incomes dwindle. There has also been a decrease in the school-leaving age, moving children to the harder-to-reach out-of-school setting, which studies have shown to be one of the indicators of ultimate HIV vulnerability. (See, for example, Sukrung 1997a; Bhatiasevi 1997; and Thawornwanchai 1997.)
16 This study is concerned primarily with bar-based male sex work in Bangkok and draws on data from participant observation, in-depth interviews (IDI) and informal discussions with male bar workers, with male customers (men who regularly buy sex from male bar workers), and with bar operators. The bars surveyed were located in either Patpong in the inner city or Saphan Kwai, a Bangkok suburb. These two sites were chosen so as to contrast and make explicit the ‘local’ suburban bars, where the customers are predominantly (though not exclusively Thais), with the ‘tourist’ bars where the clients are predominantly non-Thais. My intention in this study is not to make exotic the lives of male sex workers. Rather, my intention is to build on the resources and experience present among male sex workers (McCamish et al. 2000) to show the expectations and attitudes and the practical everyday organization and workings of the bars ‘from within’ (Garfinkel 1964:249), and to learn more about the interplay between heterosexual and homosexual networks in Thailand.
Bar-based male sex work
In Bangkok, organised male sex work operates out of go-go bars, saunas and gyms, karaoke bars and male escort agencies (Allyn and Chaiyana 1997; Jackson 1995; McCamish et al. 2000; Storer 1999a). A less-structured free-lance market operates in parks, department stores, discos and cinemas frequented by homosexually active men (Narvilai 1994a, 1994b; Poshyachinda and Danthamrongkul 1996; Storer 1999a, 1999d).
The bars, where one can buy male sex services can be characterised by the types of activities that take place: in the bar go-go {go-go bars) workers dance on stage, dressed in g-strings, their underwear or a particular bar uniform; conversely, in the bar nang (‘sitting bars’), the workers sit in a group to one side. A further defining characteristic of the bars is that a customer must pay a khaa off (an off fee) of 200-300 baht to the bar in order to secure the services of a worker. The customer later pays the worker a ‘tip’ for services provided. Thus, the commodities of exchange in the bars are access to the men’s bodies, drinks (usually alcoholic) and money. In the bars that operate sex shows, the show becomes an additional commodity. A detailed
17 ethnography of the bars will be given in chapter five. Suffice it to say at this point that each bar works towards achieving a particular ambiance (or market niche). Some are discreet, affording the customer with anonymity. Others are decidedly public, as Rick explained:
In the Big Boy bar, the go-go stage is a catwalk down the centre, so that the customers sit facing each other... I find it too conspicuous. It seems too public [and] I prefer the Superman as the customers sit in shadow. [Superman] is set up like a cabaret so that the customers are in semi-darkness and facing the stage. You can also sit at the bar away from the audience. The Superman is more discreet. The Big Boy provides greater physical proximity [to the workers] but it is a public arena. Rick, Australian visitor (field notes 07/08/96)
The bars provide a measure of protection for both workers and customers, and indulge a laxness of behaviour not permitted in other public settings. But as I will demonstrate in chapters five and six, the language and gestures of the bars are largely symbolic and ritualised in nature (cf. Read’s Other Voices 1980), and despite the air of permissiveness, distinct rules govern the encounters inside and outside the bars. Once out of the bars, for example, participants typically refrain from showing any recognition of each other: customers do not usually acknowledge one another; and workers do not ‘recognise’ customers (unless the customer makes an acknowledge ment first), even though cuts of this kind are taboo in other settings (cf. Cavan’s ethnography of behaviours in bar settings, 1966:64-65).1? Learning to accept such cuts can be difficult for a worker, especially for one who is accustomed to being open and friendly. Nikon, for example, said he had often felt slighted (IDI 12/08/98): I don’t like it when a customer doesn ’t recognise me when we meet again... Even in the bar, sometimes, a customer will come back and not even say hello.
1? McCamish reports an interesting distinction between the Bangkok bar scene and that operating in the seaside resort of Pattaya (personal communication). The latter affords a nighttime bar scene as well as a daytime ‘gay’ beach scene. Workers often walk the beach in the afternoons and readily initiate conversation with a customer. The customers, perhaps made pliant by the warmth of the sun or bored by the long hours in deck chairs, are pleased by the attention - ‘He remembered me!’
18 have been changed to maintain anonymity. Note that Thais always use their given names rather than their family names, for example, Bill rather than Mr. Smith. In addition, each person has a nickname, such as, Lek or Gop. Thus, it is not possible to recognise a person’s real name from the nickname alone. Each bar worker was told that his or her nickname would be changed and then asked to assign himself a pseudo nym. The names of the commercial sex venues have also been changed (though this duplicity will probably not conceal the locales from those in the know).
The research was carried out part-time from December 1994 to mid-1999. At first, I found the part-time nature of the investigation a frustration - I wanted to get on with it. But the subsequent study, extending over four and a half years, includes fifty- five male bar workers and thirty-one male customers, many of whom I was able to meet several times. In addition, because of the ready mobility of workers in-and-out of male bar work and across various sites (McCamish et al 2000; Sittitrai et al. 1994a), information was gleaned on more than twenty different bars, with some of the men describing their work experiences in several venues. Others were able to furnish insights into both organised and free-lance sex work. In addition, eleven owners, managers and headwaiters participated in the study. Other participants in the research have included self-identified Thai gay men and lesbians, kathoey (transgenders), and a number of HIV/AIDS community-based organizations.
Note that the methodological sampling process is based on convenience sampling and biased toward sexually adventurous men. Male-female transgenders (kathoey) were excluded from the study, as I wanted to focus attention on men who have sex with men and avoid the discourses that have traditionally structured discussion of homosexuality in Thailand (see chapter four). Further, I found that Thai customers would sit and chat with me one-on-one, but were less willing to participate in group discussions or to agree to a taped interview than were the non-Thai customers. This has meant that the data is skewed in favour of non-Thais.
19 ______HP ■ 'B.AI a,X.g nK &hO oK PI a q Hap ntan K5l Nov '98 - Feb '99 Restaurants ill wlpR Bars & Pubs H^;' i ' • lilebsites Saunas Hotels
Figure 1.2 Bangkok Rainbow Play Map (November 1998 - February 1999)
20 I also note that some of the material presented in this research is overtly sexual in nature. As such, the stories told here should not be taken as representative of Thai sexual behaviour and Thai society as a whole. Nevertheless, while the findings presented in this dissertation relate to a specific population, homosexually active men in Bangkok, there is a high degree of concurrence between my own conclusions and those drawn by other researchers about male sex work and their clients in Chiang Mai in the north (de Lind van Wijngaarden 1995, 1996), the holiday resort, Pattaya, in the east (McCamish 1997; McCamish and Sittitrai 1997; McCamish et al. 2000; Sittitrai and Roddy 1989; Sittitrai et al. 1989; Sittitrai et al. 1994a) and Bangkok (Sittitrai et al. 1994a; Sriwatjana 1995).
Meeting the research participants
Deciding on a research interest was one thing. Getting started was another: where and how should I begin; and how would I approach the participants? I elected to begin with the Mandrake bar in Saphan Kwai, which I selected more for its con venience than for any other reason - I lived in the neighbourhood - and because it proved to be a bar where I could order a beer and sit without feeling pressured by the management or the workers. It seemed more relaxed than other bars where the kaptcm (headwaiter) was quick to come over and ask which of the workers interested me.
After dropping in to the Mandrake for three months, I asked Pone, one of the workers, if he would be interested in talking to me (IDI 29/01/95). I also asked one of the two bar managers if this would be a problem. The manager, an English transvestite and former cabaret performer, proved to be supportive. Later, I recruited bar workers from other Saphan Kwai bars as well as from the bars in the Patpong area of Bangkok. Patpong, in the inner city, is a high-profile red-light district with a large number of female and male commercial sex outlets, which cater largely to tourists and non-Thais. The Saphan Kwai bars, on the other hand, serve predominantly (though not exclusively) Thai customers. As the study progressed, the bar workers themselves provided a channel to other informants by introducing me to their friends. When I became more confident, I also approached some informants, like Zorro, directly.
21 I first saw Zorro at the Malaysia hotel (an older hotel in the centre of Bangkok) when I was collecting my key at reception. Zorro was often draped over the counter talking with a friend who works behind the desk. One day we found ourselves in the lift together, and I asked him if he was visiting one of the guests. He explained that his Thai friend was flying out to Europe that evening and had checked into the Malaysia the day before. Zorro was planning to go out to the airport to send him off. A week or so later, Zorro and I met again in the hotel lobby, and I invited him to join me in the coffee shop for a drink. We quickly worked our way through the formalities: Where do you come from? How long are you staying in Bangkok? What do you do? I told him about the research and asked if he would mind talking to me about his life. Sure, he said, I’ve nothing else to do (field notes 27/06/99)
The Malaysia hotel provides many such opportunities for men to meet other men. When I first came to Bangkok at the end of the seventies, the Malaysia was popular with backpackers, and the clientele were largely heterosexual. Nowadays, gay men make up 80-90 percent of the guests and include both Westerners and Asians (Asians who readily fly in for the weekend from countries in the region.) The hotel has accommodated this shift in client profile with a pragmatic ease, and the service is affable and efficient.16
The hotel is also popular with Thai gay men, needing a convenient entry-exit point when making trips overseas. Zorro’s friend, for example, had moved out of his rented room and needed a place to stay before flying to Europe. I ran into Wit in the lobby one afternoon. He had just returned from visiting his Swiss lover and was stay ing in the hotel for a couple of days before returning to Petchburi province where he lives (field notes 13/09/98). Kiat, a hotel manager based in Phuket, checked into the hotel while processing a visa application (field notes 30/06/99). Tom, who manages a family import-export business in Chiang Mai, is regularly in Bangkok on business and always stays at the Malaysia.
The Malaysia is one of the few ‘economical’ hotels in the city centre (not in cluding the short-time hotels). There are other draw cards too: the Babylon sauna is
16 Some of the floor staff have been working at the hotel for over twenty years and could, if asked, provide a rich and historic profile of Bangkok’s gay scene. just around the corner; the gay discos and pubs on Silom road are only ten minutes by taxi; and the Patpong bars and clubs are just one step further. The Malaysia also operates an Internet service in the lobby. The service is busy from about 10:00 in the morning until late at night, and is used by both hotel guests and by Thai men who drop in to e-mail their boyfriends. In addition, the 24-hour coffee shop offers a meeting place for free-lance and bar workers, a place to eat and pass the time or to wind down after work. The ambience of the hotel lobby and coffee shop is definitely ‘cruisey’. Heads are turned. Assignations are made and kept. Names are exchanged (and forgotten). Hearts are broken.
Contacts with customers were made through informal networks or by hanging around the lobby of the Malaysia hotel, the roof top garden of the Babylon sauna and the like. When it became apparent to what extent the bar management were involved in the negotiation of the off in the bar, I also began talking to bar operators (the owner, manager or mama-sari) and to the kaptan and bar staff. Thus the focus of the study moved from a dyad to a triad of informants.
Men who sell sex to men
He has come to the metropolis to sell his labour power... He is free to sell his labour power like a commodity. Berger and Mohr, The Seventh Man (1975:82)
The fifty-five male bar workers informing this study ranged in age from eighteen to thirty three, with the majority (53 percent) between eighteen and twenty- two. There was a slight difference in age between men who worked in the Patpong bars (majority nineteen to twenty-two) and men in the Saphan Kwai bars (eighteen to twenty), a reflection of time in service. Typically, the workers came from agricultural backgrounds with their parents living on small rice holdings; ninety-one percent of the men were born in the provinces, with most coming from either Isaan in the Northeast (51 percent), or the North (24 percent). This was followed by 18 percent from the Central region (which also includes Bangkok), and 6 percent from the South. One- third of the cohort had only primary school education, and the majority had not completed high school. While a majority reported working in the manufacturing industry (in factories or on construction sites) or in the service industry (in restaurants or hotels) prior to entering sex work, the cohort also included university and technical college students and two teacher college graduates.17
The majority of the men said they had been introduced to the work by friends who were already working the bars, which meant that they knew at least one other person in the bar when they started. But nearly one third reported that they had found their own way into bar work (see chapter five). For the male sex worker, entry into bar work is usually accompanied by a dramatic increase in earnings: a 1996 Thai MoPH survey (quoted in Phongphaichit et al. 1998:202), for instance, estimated that a male sex worker operating in a gay bar could make as much as 30,000 baht per month, a salary far exceeding that of a university lecturer or school teacher. For a man moving from construction work in Bangkok, for example, where the minimum daily wage is only 160 baht, the potential jump in earnings is considerable. 1 R
A minority of the men were holding down two jobs, with sex work supplementing the income earned as a food stall operator, welder, motor-bike taxi driver, store assistant, hotel ‘room boy’ or soldier. For some, their second job provided money for going out and enjoying Bangkok life. Don, for example, worked as a goldsmith in a jewellery store during the day. The work was relatively light - he started at nine in the morning and finished around five in the evening - and he was able to make 6,000 baht per month. But Don also worked the Mandrake bar at nights, because as he explained: It isn’t enough if you want to go out. I don’t know what to do in the evenings. There ’s nothing to do without money (IDI 14/12/95).
But for others, moonlighting in the bars allowed them to fulfil their family responsibilities. Nit, for example, worked in the storeroom of a large department store during the day and go-go danced in the Phantom bar at night (field notes 22/10/97). Fie
Similar demographics are recorded in other studies of male sex workers in Bangkok Vongsatitsart 1989; Sittitrai et al. 1994a; Sriwatjana 1994). 18De Lind* van Wijngaarden (1996), in his study of male bar workers in Chiang Mai city reported that on entering a bar, a worker will have high earnings, but this period is usually short lived and his income drops off as soon as his ‘new face’ wears out. After about three months, however, when he learns the bar talk and polishes his techniques for cruising - generally from advice offered by more experienced sex workers and occasionally from advice given by customers - earnings go up again.
24 reported that his earnings from his day job were sufficient to pay the rent and send money home to his mother, whereas his night job allowed him money for himself (though it was unclear when he had the time to spend his earnings). Other men had clearly-defined life goals and were saving with a purpose. Tom, who worked the Studio massage parlour early evenings before moving onto to the Phantom bar, was supporting his girlfriend and saving towards their soon to be born baby (IDI 22/08/97). Sam cut down on socialising in order to save more than he spent:
[Some of the guys] are saving money to send back home. When they finish work, they go back to [their rented rooms]. They think about their families a lot. They’re determined, these guys... Sometimes I feel like going out and having a good time after work. Days when I’m feeling down, I go out. But I’m saving money to send home. So, if I’m feeling okay, I won’t go out. I save more than I spend... I’m saving for a house for my mother and father. Sam, male bar worker (23/01/96)
More than 70 percent of the workers reported sending money home to their families (to supplement the family income or to support the education of a sibling). In sending money home to their parents, men and women who are engaged in sex work are able to fulfil their sense of filial responsibility (pen naathee). As Suntaree Komin (1991:139) remarks for the Thai, economic needs are not only personal, but also driven by the fundamental cultural characteristic of exhibiting bunkhun, indebted goodness to one’s parents.
In general, the amount of money sent home was only a small proportion of the men’s earnings (see also Sriwatjana 1994) but, as McCamish (1997) notes, often in excess of what could be earned by an unskilled labourer. Only two of the fifty-three workers informing this study reported telling their family about their mode of em ployment; the rest were careful to conceal the nature of their work. Family members in turn, sharing the same values (van Griensven et al 1995), were careful not to ask too many questions. McCamish and Sittitrai suggest that this “pattern of non-involvement in the affairs of others, especially where closer scrutiny could lead to conflict is characteristic in Thai contexts (1997:3). This may well be so. However, I would suggest that their reading undervalues the importance of exhibiting filial responsibility;
25 the display of bunkhun both demonstrates respect and earns respect, and this display extends outside the immediate family into the wider community.19
Other motivations for entering sex work included: ‘lost my previous job’; ‘no other choice’ (citing lack of education or qualifications); the awareness that labouring work is often exploitative and offers no future; or the lure of the wealthy ‘sponsor’ (or multiple sponsors) to supply financial support and security on a regular basis. Under pinning all these motivations is the understanding that sex work can potentially provide men with much more money than they would make in any other job (cf. Jan de Lind van Wijngaarden’s study of male sex workers in northern Thailand; 1995). Pone, one of the informants in this study, described his entry into bar work in this way:
At first, I didn’t think I would leave the [construction] job I had before. I thought the money was good. But after a while I got tired of it. We just went from day to day. When my friend first suggested I come to work in the bar I thought, “How can he work like this?” But then after a while I had no money. I went home and there was no work and no money. So, I came back [to Bangkok]... It was necessary. Again my friend told me to come to the bar. So I did. Pone, bar worker (IDI, 29/01/95)
For Pote, bar work was seen to provide a modicum of control over his life. In addition, bar work didn’t require long hours:
I have more freedom here in the bar. I used to work 12 hours or more a day [as a security guard] and I was always on call. The manager could call me at any time. In the bar, we come into work about 8:00 or 8:30 p.m. If we off,\ we may only stay in the bar for a short while. Otherwise, we finish at 1:00 am. We have plenty of time to rest. As a guard, twelve hours is twelve hours. Pote, bar worker (IDI 11/1/95)
For the sexually adventurous man, the question was ‘why not sex work?’ rather than ‘why?’ Some men, for example, spoke of the excitement and adventure beyond the reach of ordinary jobs - clubbing, holidays at beach resorts and overseas trips -
19 Ajarn Yothin Sawangdee (Institute of Population and Social Research, Mahidol University) argues that the Thai is more concerned with process (demonstrating one’s filial duty) than with consequences (interviewed 24/11/98). Additionally, transgression can be easily overlooked (forgiven - aphai).
26 and the opportunity to explore their sexuality. Others contended that the work was not ‘hurting’ anyone (mai tam hai khon eun lambaak or mai tam hai khon eun teuat rorri). Some of the sex workers who gay-identified complained that gay relationships were unreliable and temporary at best, and that male sex work provided the anticipation of having sex and being paid for it, without emotional attachment: they can buy our bodies but not our hearts (seu tua dai seu hua jai mai dai).
Here Zorro describes how he ‘stumbled’ into gay life and later made his way into bar work. In telling his story, Zorro reveals a determination to ‘get on’ in life, a resolve I found characteristic of the majority of the sex workers with whom I spoke:
When Zorro was thirteen - straight after finishing primary school - he left his home in Mahasarakham in Isaan and came to Bangkok. He immediately started working in a small clothing factory where relatives from his hometown were already employed. He learned how to sew. Subsequently, he worked as a machinist in a number of different factory outlets, all in Bangkok.
Zorro’s introduction to gay life at seventeen took place in a Saphan Kwai cinema. One of his work mates had told him that the cinema showed pornography, so I went along. The first thing I noticed was that the audience was all men and that they kept moving about. Nobody stayed in one seat. That seemed a bit odd. Then a guy came and sat beside me and put his hand on my leg. I got a shock. Well, one thing led to another. Shortly after, Zorro met a Thai, with whom he fell in love. But the man turned out to be married and one day he stopped calling. Zorro said he felt let down and discouraged.
Last year, almost 22 and bored with his life, Zorro went to Harries Bar with a friend and began free-lance sex work. At first Zorro only worked weekends, holding onto his day job as a machinist. But then he threw the day job in and worked the bar full-time. Four months later Harrie’s closed and Zorro took a job as a waiter in a restaurant in the World Trade Centre. Around that time Zorro met his Dutch boyfriend and towards the end of the year, he made a trip to the Netherlands. When he got back to Thailand, the economic crash had set in and jobs were few and far between. His boyfriend had said he wanted Zorro to stay out of bar work and he sent money. Zorro spent his money on rent and food, and the odd bit of clothing. He also paid for English classes at the Siam Language Centre. And he paid for and is still attending adult education classes. Zorro wants to complete his high-school diploma: for without a diploma, I’ll never get a decent job. Zorro wants to get on in life. Zorro, former bar worker (field notes 11/07/99) The majority of the men claimed that their first sexual experience with a man occurred on entering the bar. For these men, male bar work provided an avenue to explore their sexuality and the pathway to a sustained homosexual experience extend ing beyond the workplace.20 When I met Maen in the Mandrake bar, he talked about how nervous he had been when he first went off with a customer: I was shaking. I couldn’t do anything (field notes 04/11/95). Two years later, I met Maen again, but this time at the Godown sauna with his expatriate lover (a man he had met while working at the bar). This time, he spoke about his sexuality with confidence: I never used to enjoy anal sex before when I was working in the bars, but now I do... Now I’ve been able to tell my family about myself and that I am gay (field notes 19/07/97).
Shick (1978) submits that male sex workers are scorned by conventional society and internalise these attitudes: when a man joins the community of sex workers, he must neutralise the public opprobrium reserved for him as a purveyor of sexual favours (cf. Davies and Simpson 1990). This is generally accomplished by minimising contact with those who disapprove and by limiting one’s acquaintances to one’s peers. To avoid probing questions, the sex worker will compartmentalise his life, ensuring a separation between his work and home life. Urban settings like Bangkok provide ample opportunity for the male sex worker to cut himself off from his family and former friends and to build up a new persona, particularly if he is a migrant worker. Alternatively, a worker may limit his socialising to others on the scene (Shick 1978; Sittitrai et al. 1994a). In this way, workmates provide a buffer between sex work and society (see also Prieur 1998:101).
But this socialising within the sub-culture is also an important part of the apprenticeship process for new workers, whereby they learn the norms of the group (how to talk and dress) and the tricks of the trade. Most of the men recounted either going out after work with other sex workers to unwind (to play snooker or cards, eat
20 Cf. Boyer’s account (1989) of male prostitution and homosexual identity. Also relevant here is Chauncey’s (1994) account of the making of gay New York life and the Newport Naval Training School (Rhode Island, New York). Chauncey (1994) argues that military mobilisation gave many new army recruits the opportunity to see the sort of gay life that large cities had to offer. Removed from the supervision of their families and small town neighbourhoods and placed in single-sex environments, increased the chances that the recruits would encounter self-identified gay men and explore their homosexual interests. 21 Cf. Bech’s (1995, 1997) work on urban cultures and sexual citizenship.
28 and drink, cruise the late-night discos), or getting together in the afternoons (to work out in the local gym, go to a movie, shop). The money that is ‘easily’ made is easily spent, as Nit, a former bar worker explained: Once you’ve started working in the bars, it’s hard to leave. You have money. The bar boys are big spenders. It’s nothing to go out after work and spend 2,000 baht. Here Sam explains how conspicuous spending is intrinsic to the social life outside the workplace:
Sam You know, the bar boys (.) when they first come to Bangkok, they don’t know anything at all. They don’t know the pubs, the discos, nothing. The customers have money. They have money and they know where the pubs and discos are. If they off a boy and take him to a pub or a disco, ooh la-la. And the boy thinks to himself: ‘This is good. One day when I have some money I’ll have to come back here. I like it here. I have to come back one day’ They just want to feel good about themselves. GS I noticed that many of the guys in the bars (..) They have mobile telephones. They have motorcycles. They have a lot of things. Sam The boys just want to feel good. They get money easily so they spend it on luxuries (.) Really, on luxury goods. Sometimes, more than those who are wealthy. They go out every night [after work] to the pubs and discos. They give big tips to the waiters, [laughing] They’re big spenders! Sam, Superman bar (IDI, 23/01/96)
But despite the affinities that bind male bar workers together, friendships among the men were fragmented, especially for younger workers or those entering bar work for the first time. Pat, a bar worker, complained that we know the people ’s faces but we don’t know their hearts... you live close together and not know each other (IDI 10/03/95). There are several reasons for this: firstly, there is high turnover of workers in the bars as the men move on to try their hand at different sites or to take a break from sex work. Ohd, who worked for a travel agent during the day and then at the Garage bar at nights, said that he had no close friends in the bar: You’re never sure who to trust (field notes 22/09/97). Secondly, the men are competing for customers and earnings can fall towards the end of each month, during the low season or post New Year when customers are spent out. The men cannot always rely on their workmates to help out during these lows. Further, the sometimes-fierce
22 Cf. Cohen’s (1996:266-7) description ofr how earnings fluctuate seasonally for the Thai female sex worker.
29 competition means that jealousy among workers is not uncommon. Regional affiliations are also significant. One problem for me was that the boys all come from different regions and did not really join together. There was a lot of competition among the boys... jealousies and conflicts. I’m from Central Thailand. The [guys from the] North and from Isaan just want to please themselves and don’t seem to care about what is right or wrong. Sith, former sex worker (ID1 27/10/95)
Many of the workers reported feeling ‘looked down on’ (doo took) because they earn money by selling their bodies (khai tua) or because others believe them too
lazy or incapable of doing ‘decent’ jobs (Sittitrai et al. 1994:7).2j Pone (IDI 29/01/95) summed it up this way: What I don’t like, is after they have finished, they throw us away. They get rid of us. Thus, while male bar workers can potentially earn a considerable amount of money, they remain aware of the tenuous nature of their in come and conscious that they have low social and cultural status:
Arriving at a hotel with a ‘visitor’ can be an awkward moment for men who have sex with men, and in some cases may open the way to sexist assumptions or intolerance and intimidation. Zorro said that when a Thai boy goes any where with a farang, Thais immediately think he is gay or a prostitute - or both - and at different times, he has been treated to disdain and interrogation when accompanying a farang to a hotel. But Zorro said that he always feels comfortable at the Malaysia. Other workers concurred: male sex workers who arrive at the Malaysia with hotel guests are treated with equal politeness. There are no awkward questions, merely a sign at the lift, which says: ‘For security reasons only guests are permitted upstairs. If you are here on a visit, please contact reception’. And each visitor is required to deposit his identification (ID) card at the front desk, a requirement that is extended to all. When the
23 Deviant labels vary with the social class, gender, age and ethnicity of those labelled and those who create the labels (Aggleton 1987). Consider, for example, the notion that female sex work serves a specific function in society by providing an outlet for male sexual needs which are not met within marriage, implying that sex work strengthens and maintains the institution of marriage (Browne & Minichiello 1995). For Foucault (1988), the sexual act is one where superiority and inferiority roles are played out. According to Davies and Simpson (1990) the very nature of hegemonic masculinity - dominant/insertive/active - is paradoxically complicated by the sexual practice of male sex workers, who are men presumably accepting both this inferior sexual role and also money for sexual favours. From this perspective, it is not male-male sex, which is socially unacceptable, but that a male person who is penetrated assumes a devalued form of masculinity (Boyer 1989; Leahy 1992). As Browne and Minichiello (1995) observe, the underlying assumptions of male sexuality, which both maintain and constrain sex work, have been rarely questioned within the research on male sex.
30 visitor leaves, reception calls up to the guest’s room before returning the ID: Your friend is leaving now. Any problems?
If the hotel guest should decide to show his visitor out and accompany him downstairs, the staff at reception are impeccable: What name, they ask, when the visitor reclaims his ID card? They never remember a worker’s name, even though he may be a frequent ‘visitor’ to the hotel. Such discretion means that any worker, who has concocted an identity for himself -I’m a student, I’m just visiting Bangkok from my hometown - maintains face, as does the customer. (field notes 11/07/99) Outside of their work environment, sex workers lead private lives. Some of the bar workers were students working their way through an education. Others were married and had children, or were involved in long-term relationships with girlfriends or boyfriends. Still others had male, female or transvestite casual partners. Sittitrai et al. (1994a:8) summarised the group characteristics when they emphasised:
[Male bar workers] have economic needs, fear of diseases, concerns about in sults and rejection from society, little bargaining power against bar owners, emotional and sexual desires, and concern and caring for their loved ones (original emphasis).
Men who buy sex from men
The customers in this study included both Thai and non-Thai men (either resident in Thailand or visitors to Thailand). I found the bar managers and workers naturally protective of their customers’ identities; managers, for example, were generally willing for me to talk with their workers, but did not want me to directly approach their customers. (I did not conceal the fact that I was talking to customers outside the bars.) As a consequence, recruitment of customers was directed through networks of gay men, who were themselves regular patrons of the bars. In all, thirty- one clients participated in the study, including eight Thai men (26 percent of the total) and twenty-three non-Thai men (74 percent).
A commonly held stereotype is that Thailand is a haven for Western gay men seeking sex. But this label ignores the fact that Thailand’s gay infrastructure is clearly not sustained by nor aimed at tourists alone (Allyn 1991; Altman 1995; Jackson 1989). Further, visitors to Thailand include Asian as well as farang men. For Leong, the
31 Bangkok gay scene allowed him to step out of the constrictive norms he experienced at home in Singapore. For Daniel from Hong Kong, Bangkok offered variety. He described how he would fly in on a Friday night and spend his weekend in the bars and discos, before catching a taxi direct from the Babylon sauna to the airport on Monday evening. Adie celebrated both variety and freedom, making two-monthly visits (ostensibly to shop for his store in Jakarta). The non-Thai participants included American, Australian, Belgian, Chinese (from Hong Kong, Singapore and Taiwan), English, French, Indonesian, Italian, New Zealander and Filipino informants, and ranged in age from 22 to 65. The majority (53 percent) was over 45 years old.24
West (1992), in describing male sex services in London, inquires why men should buy sex when so many homosexually active men are on the lookout for an overnight companion in gay cruising venues, like saunas, discos and (drinking) bars. He surmises that such venues favour mainly younger people; more importantly, they are public and do not necessarily appeal to homosexually active men who do not gay identify or who might be married. I would suggest that age is the most significant of these three commodities of exchange. After all, one can readily perform a particular identity (straight or gay, single or married), but age is less easily disguised. West (1992:264-75) offers further that, for some customers, being able to buy sex provides an exotic escape from the “straitjacket” of their regular lives. But as we shall see in chapter three, commercial sex, for many men, is not an either/or alternative but merely one option in an array of available sexual choices.
Most customers said they had heard about the bars through friends, though a few of the Thai men said they had read about the bars in a gay magazine and ‘just went along to see’. Many of the Thai men with whom I spoke said they had gone to the bars with a group of friends to watch one of the shows. Nevertheless, on entering the bars, the men become potential customers and alert to the promise of procuring sex. In general, the men visiting Thailand had also learned of Bangkok’s bars through informal networks. For some, friends or lovers would show them the way. Chet, a 24
"4 As part of the Amazing Thailand promotion in 1998, the Tourism Authority of Thailand projected the following tourist numbers: 4.6 million Asians (1.8 from ASEAN and 1 million from Japan); 1.7 million Europeans; and 0.338 million from the USA. The grand total of 7.659 million was an increase of 8.4 percent over previous years. (Source: Bangkok Post, Friday January 02, 1997, p. 6.) year-old Thai bank clerk, who had been introduced to the bars by his lover when he was only twenty, reported that he would go to the Mandrake bar around 9:00 pm and buy out a worker; afterwards, he would meet up with his friends at DJ Station and “dance the night away” (field notes 31/12/95).
Like the male sex worker, the customer too has to learn the codes that operate in the bars. Often, it was the sex worker who took charge and initiated the new customer, as John explains:
John When I first came here, I was really taught by the boy because all I did was pick out this one boy at the Big Boy. You know, this one boy from the Big Boy who came home with me. And it was he who imagined that (.) I would (.) that he would sleep all night. And it was he who had sex with me twice. I would never have thought of that. And it was he who showed me how to have a good time. And it was he who taught me not to be s-o afraid (.) ah or guilty about the sex because he was so open about the sex. And he was having such a good time, so that it communicated to me that it was all right here and that it wasn’t all right back in my own country. And it communicated something to me about him and other Thai boys that they could have kind of a good time doing it and they didn’t have to be on drugs. They didn’t have to be drunk. Ahm you didn’t have to (.) take over (.) and force them into something or (.) or (.) There was just a different feel to it. It felt more playful. So the original teaching, I think about the sexual (.) about what you could do sexually came from the boys. And then later in the bars, the boys taught me that things were possible that I never would have expected. It was the boys who told me that there were rooms upstairs. It was the boys who told me I could take two: ‘Take me and him if you like both. Ahm (.) You like this young (.) go ahead and take him. You don’t like me, let me find someone else. Who do you like up here?’ GS Mm-mm John Those are things I never would have done on my own. But the boys taught me what to do and what was all right and what wasn’t all right (.) They taught me what was all right to do. [laughing] They certainly broadened my horizon about what was all right to do... And then (..) I suppose I was (..) I was really taken around by friends. And I learnt quickly from my friends. And so my friends would all talk to me in English about what I could do and what I couldn’t do. (.) Or how to negotiate John, frequent visitor to Thailand (IDI 14/05/98)
33 The bar operators
The eleven bar operators informing the research included bar owners and the managers or mama-san (transvestite managers) of bars providing male commercial sex services, as well as the kaptan (head waiter) and barmen.
Throughout the period of the research, 1 remained aware of the need to maintain positive relations with the bar operators and to be careful not to explicitly criticise the way that the bars function. This was important in the first instance because I had to be sure that I did not jeopardise the workers’ livelihoods. Second, on a more self-concerned note, the bar management, naturally suspicious of researchers, were in a position to deny me access to the bars and to the workers at any point, which would have put a stop to the project. How then could I get managers to talk about their bars? Invariably, my discussions with bar operators centred around two inter-related marketing concerns: how to attract and retain a large number of workers; and, how to attract and retain customers. These concerns were expressed in questions like: Does this bar work? What about the music? Why do so many customers go to [Joe ’s] bar? Engaging in discussions around these questions allowed me to talk to the managers about the workers and the working conditions. Following one such discussion, Pradith (the owner of the Oasis) offered me a partnership in the bar. He thought that a Thai speaking farang would be able to manage the workers as well as bring in new customers. No doubt, it would have also helped ease the cash flow problems he was experiencing at the time.
In addition to the bar operators, I also talked to the kaptan and barmen, the majority of whom were themselves former sex workers, and in some cases could be taken off. The motivation given for moving from sex worker to bar staff was usually age:
Ay, kaptan at the Dragon bar, had been working on the commercial sex scene for over ten years. He had given up selling sex because as he explained: I got too old, and no one took me off. (field notes 11/12/95)
In some cases, though, the move to kaptan provided a break from sex work. Pone, for example, moved from go-go dancer to waiter to free-lance sex worker in the
34 space of a year (IDI 21/01/95). Tim, on the other hand, moved from sex worker at the Mandrake to waiter at the Locker Room because he had decided to undergo hormone treatment, and his nascent breasts excluded him from the market place.
Like the sex workers, many of the bar staff were also sending money back home. Gop, kaptan at the Mandrake bar and former sex worker, complained that business was down and he was not making any money in tips or commission to supplement his salary:
4,000 baht a month is not enough to live on. I need to return to working the bars. My brother will finish high school this year and I’m supporting him through school. I would like to get a daytime job, but what can I do? I didn’t finish school. At least my brother will. He wants to study further but I’m going to tell him to take a year off and to go out to work. That will give me a break at least. Gop, kaptan (field notes 19/10/96)
The shape of things to come
At a macro-level, this study will be interested in how discourses of male-male sex and gender and sexuality are framed. For example, how has homosexuality been positioned by Thai researchers and medical professionals? How do the presuppositions reflected in Thai government policy documents, medical and scientific literature and various media publications define and direct popular understandings of sexuality, or of notions of risk? What assumptions have guided decisions about what is ‘effective’ and ‘appropriate’ public information about HIV/AIDS? Which discourses about sexuality are public? Which discourses remain private and beyond public purview? What gaps exist in these public representations?
Thus, in chapter three, ‘Shaping a discourse’, I will look in more detail at the so-called ‘risk groups’ identified through epidemiological surveillance, attendant understandings of risk of HIV transmission and the way that these have unfolded into public representations around the family, heterosexual male promiscuity and female sex work. In so doing, I will argue that a discursive silence has excluded
35 homosexuality from the discourses surrounding HIV/AIDS. I will also maintain that male sex work has been overshadowed by concerns about female sex work, and that this situation needs to be reassessed. I will support my position by drawing on the research data to reveal the complex and interacting sexual and social networks for homosexually active men in Thailand.
Issues of identity are significant in understanding occupational practice among male sex workers (Boles et al., 1994:46). For example, there is evidence that male sex workers who gay identify, and who allow themselves sexual feelings during commercial contacts, may be more prone to engage in unprotected behaviours than those who do not gay identify (de Graaf et al., 1994:287; Storer, 1995). Therefore, an interpellation of the Thai social constructions of gender and sexual identity, and the discourses and interactional contexts within which these are located, seem appropriate. In chapter four, ‘Performing masculinity’, I will examine the traditions, discourses and institutional contexts contributing to the construction of gender and sexuality in Thailand. I will also seek an understanding of how notions of identity and identity maintenance affect behavioural norms and group identification, and frame the interactions between Thai male bar workers and their customers. In so doing, I will critique Western notions of‘gay-straight’ and Western models of prostitution. I will also problematise the notion of‘community attachment’ and question its relevance to male-male sex behaviours in Thailand.
At a local level, I will be interested in how discourses of male-male sex and gender and sexuality are understood: how do male bar workers talk about their work?; how do workers and customers talk about their sexual practices?; where does this talk ‘go’?; and what behaviours has it informed? In chapter five, ‘Working the bars’, I will outline the everyday practices (De Certeau 1984; Bourdieu 1998, 1990c) of bar-based male sex work. How are men enlisted into bar work? What are the rules and how are these learned? Who are the participants and what is their interdependency? How is this evidenced in discourse? I will distinguish ‘tourist’ bars from ‘local’ bars, and show that different discursive conventions operating in these two bars condition the types of exchange that go on: who may speak to whom and about what. Further, I will show that negotiation inside the bars is full of ambiguity that sexual practice is only some- times negotiated prior to leaving the bar, and that payment may not be negotiated up front.
In chapter six, ‘Talk about the bars’, I will focus attention on the interactions that take place between a worker and his customer outside the bars, once the worker has been taken ‘off: in particular, how do they negotiate sexual practice, sexual safety and payment? I will also question what selling sex means for a bar worker. In so doing, I will show that workers and customers ascribe different meanings to their commercial and recreational encounters, and their regular and non-regular sexual encounters. I will also provide examples of successful discursive strategies employed by experienced workers to maintain ‘smooth interactions’ in the face of customer pressure.
In chapter seven, ‘Bordering on desire’, I will map the findings from the previous chapters onto the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign: (How) does the campaign address the Thai male sex worker who occupies both gay and heterosexual environ ments? How have the ideas generated by the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign taken root? What have homosexually active men done with this knowledge? I will also define a set of‘variables’ (correlates) that interact with negotiation of sexual practice and discuss the implications for promoting safe sex behaviours among homosexually active men. I will argue that discussions about gender and sexuality and HIV/AIDS have been dominated by a medicalised discourse in Thailand, and that what is needed at this point is a shift in focus that permits a broadening of the public discourses to incorporate more diverse sexualities.
But first, I will discuss in detail the methodological concerns that underpin the study. In the next chapter, ‘Approaching the research’, I will interrogate what it means to investigate this topic: what can be researched and how? I will, in turn, problematise the use of secondary and mediated data; the sociological interview; and notions of Other and representation. I will then describe a methodological framework for integrated data analysis in which reflexivity is central. I will argue that engaging the research participants in a process of reflexivity provides the text analysis pivotal to understanding how culture, power and discourse interact, reinforce and subvert one another. two
Approaching the Research
...unlike memory, photographs do not in themselves preserve meaning. They offer appearances - with all the credibility and gravity we normally lend to appearances - prised away from their meaning. Meaning is the result of under standing functions... And only that which narrates can make us understand. John Berger, About Looking (^1991:55)
Multiple perspectives in research
In 1994, I was asked to work on an HIV/AIDS study that would identify cross border movements between Lao PDR and Thailand; locate possible HIV transmission routes between the two countries; and assess the knowledge-attitude-practice-beliefs of Laotians living and working along border areas.1 In the first phase of the study, I accompanied a group of Lao project staff on a study tour to Chiang Mai in northern Thailand. The purpose of the tour was to broaden our understanding of HIV/AIDS, to introduce the staff to data collection and analysis techniques, and to see how Thailand had been addressing the AIDS epidemic. We met with various government and non government agencies and researchers working in the HIV/AIDS arena. In particular, I remember research being conducted by Ajarn Buppa Wattanapun from the Faculty of Education, Chiang Mai University. Dr Buppa was looking for ways to encourage Thai
1 The project, funded by Family Health International, was jointly implemented by the National Control Council for AIDS, Lao PDR and CARE International in Laos.
38 women to negotiate condom use with their partners (boyfriends/husbands). At that time, most Thai men reported not using condoms when sleeping with their wives or regular partners, claiming that condoms would be a breach of ‘trust’ (Bhatiasevi 1996). Some men feared their partners would become suspicious: Why are you suggesting we use a condom now? We never bothered in the past. An assumption underlying the work was that Thai women were increasingly at risk of HIV transmission because Thai societal norms continued to valorise male promiscuity and because Thai women were complicit in not speaking out. Obviously, Thai men were profiting from this silence.
The research struck me as interesting for two reasons. First, who was the re search for? While the researcher was writing to inform other academics and HIV policy makers, she was working directly with the participants, young Thai women, to recognise differences in behaviour condoned for men and women; to identify im balances of power in their relationships; and to seek ways to address these imbalances. Second, reflexivity was an integral feature of the methodology: in participating in the research process, the young women were able to ‘talk out’ and thereby refine their strategies for negotiating their relationships with their partners. The women were actively informing the research and, at the same time, the outcomes were immediately accessible to them. Thus, it seemed to me that the research was being carried out for Thai women.
Afterwards, I began to think more generally about how men learn and in ternalise gender inequalities, and when and how similar chauvinistic attitudes are re flected in relationships among homosexually active men. What asymmetries of power prevail in the interactions between Thai male sex workers and their customers, for example? How are these discoursed? How are they enacted and performed?
In chapter one, I provided a context for the research and briefly discussed a premise that underpins this study, namely that there is a ‘gap’ in the research about male-male sex behaviours in Thai contexts. I also introduced the research participants. In this chapter, I will identify a number of concerns related to the research process (Bourdieu 1993, 1996): the use of reported and secondary data, translation, the sociological research interview, and insider-outsider status and representation. Next, I
39 will discuss the theoretical underpinnings in the development of an integrated methodological framework that addresses these concerns, provides a tool for organis ing and interpreting the data, and shapes the thesis structure. In the final section, I will draw on the theoretical approach of discourse communities as communities of practice and the traditions of critical sociolinguistics to outline the tools for interpreting and understanding the language used by the informants. But first, I describe how the various data informing the research were collected and how the in-depth interviews were conducted.
Carrying out the interviews
The research draws on in-depth interviews (Silverman 1985, 1993) with male bar workers and male customers of the bar workers; focus group discussions with bar workers (Stewart and Shamdasani 1991; Minichiello 1995); and informal discussions with bar workers, customers and bar operators. These data were complemented by participant observation (see for example, Becker 1953, Taylor and Bogden 1984; Silverman 1985; Boulten 1994) carried out in the bars. The in-depth interviews and focus group discussions were recorded on tape, whereas the informal discussions and participant observation were recorded as field notes. The research period extended from December 1994 to mid-1999.
The research has also drawn on informal discussions with Thai and expatriate gay-identified men and women as well as interviews with Thai researchers, the Thai MoPH and NGOs engaged with gender and sexuality research and HIV/AIDS prevention and care programs. Secondary data have included Thai academic and medical publications; Thai government policy documents; and Thai newspapers and ‘gay’ magazines.
Interviews with the bar workers were conducted in Thai at times convenient to the workers, usually late afternoons or early evenings, in a Bangkok apartment. The men were paid 300 baht (about Aus $12.00) for their time. Each interview lasted approximately one hour. The interviews were typically one-on-one and semi- structured (see, for example, Weathurburn et al. 1992; Minichiello et al. 1995). All
40 interviews were tape-recorded, and I wrote up notes immediately after each interview and transcribed the tapes into English within twenty-four hours (see below). I later confirmed the translations with English-speaking Thai men. Wherever possible, I met with the participants again to discuss and clarify any points raised. As the study proceeded, only selected portions of the tapes were transcribed. Instead, I made detailed logs of the tapes (as is the practice among public historians doing oral histories ).
A series of broad topics provided a framework for the in-depth interviews with the bar workers (see Appendix Ilia), though the focus of each interview varied according to what was said. Each interview began with general questions about the worker’s background, his work career and passage into bar work. These were followed by more topic-specific questions about learning to ‘work’ the bars; different kinds of sex work experience; highlights and lowlights; and strategies for managing customer interactions. The interviews also included questions relating to health concerns. Each participant was given the opportunity to ask questions about the interview itself. I also gave out my phone number so that participants could contact me later if they so wanted. Many did, often phoning after the bars closed at 2:00 in the morning, though their queries were, more often than not, about more immediate concerns than any questions I had asked in the interviews: Would 1 help write a ‘Dear John’ letter? Would I send a fax from my machine? Would I assist with the fdling out of a form in English? Would I ‘lend’ money? I accommodated all inquiries when I could.
The in-depth interviews with the male customers followed a similar format as that for the bar workers (see Appendix Illb) and were carried out at a place chosen by the research participants, either in the privacy of their homes or at some neutral venue. The customers included Thais and non-Thais who either lived in Thailand or were visiting on holiday. Interviews with Thai customers were conducted in either Thai or English, as directed by the informants. All the interviews with non-Thai participants were carried out in English. (This necessarily excluded any customer who may have felt uncomfortable speaking English.)
Associate Professor Paula Hamilton, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences, University of Technology, Sydney (personal communication). All informants were able to contact me for a follow-up talk if they so wished and I met with some of the informants two to four times over the research period. As noted in the previous chapter, the names of all informants and of the bar venues have been changed to maintain anonymity.
The research interviews were supplemented by field notes, in which I recorded my observations of the bars. All field notes were written up outside the bar, usually the morning after the field visits. I also recorded, as accurately as possible, conversations that had taken place during the participant observation.
Initially, I found myself giving emphasis in the interviews to questions about gender identity. Later, realising that gender was my own preoccupation rather than an interest of the bar workers themselves, I avoided any direct questions that required self-disclosure, opting instead for a focus on work career and sexual history, and on the interactions between workers and clients. Further, early on in the research it became apparent that there were differences in how most of the suburban bars operated compared to the inner city bars, and in a paper reporting initial findings from the research (Störer 1999a), I suggested that many workers apprentice themselves into the suburban bars before making a transition to the more aggressive inner city bars and that different interactions between workers and customers would be apparent in the two settings. I wanted to explore this assumption more closely. I was also interested in finding out more about the work-recreational split: what did the workers do after the bars closed?; where did they go and with whom? Thus, I developed the following categories to organise the data: families, friendships and recreation; work experience; talk about sex work (buying and selling); language and negotiation strategies, value systems and ‘face’; understandings of risk; health concerns; and identity and sexuality. These categories were subsequently expanded to include sexual history and the representation of masculinity; managing risk; and intimacy and trust.
Notes on transcription
Speech inflections, such as a rising intonation to indicate a query or some kind of disagreement, can clarify understanding in a transcription of an interaction in English. However, because Thai is a tonal language, I have not attempted to record
42 speech inflections, opting instead to keep transcription symbols to a minimum. These are given in Table 2.1:
Table 2.1 Notes on transcription______
Italics either a transliteration of the Thai, eg. phoochai (man), or words borrowed from English, eg. Gay, off o not transcribable (unclear)
(•) brief pause (< 1.0 seconds) eg. “He stopped (.) and then he stopped.” (...) longer pause (> 1.0 second) break in transcription ][ overlap of speakers, for example, GS Some boys in the bar (..) won’t agree to do everything the
Customer might [want
Pong [Well
GS And if they can’t talk about this in the bar....
speaker b begins his turn immediately after speaker a, without any pause [comment] Comment by interviewer or description, eg. [nodding head] LOUD spoken loudly We-ll Example of a drawn out word Hm I’m attending Hm-hm I get it; I agree (n.) self correction Underline Example of word stress, eg. “It’s a job. it’s a form of work.”
Becoming a natural part of the life of the observed, maintaining scientific in tegrity and the problems of ethical integrity are three difficulties attendant to participant observation (Humphreys 1970). In the sense that I entered the bars, ordered a drink, sat and observed the workers and watched the shows, I considered myself like any other customer. But I was not taking the workers off and it took several visits to the bars before I would be left to sit quietly or before the kaptan would come over for
43 a chat without trying to make a sale. I did not feel the need to ‘out’ my research interest with everyone with whom I talked. But then should I record field notes of a conversation overheard in the bar? Should I include the notes I had written up after meeting that man at the sauna? I decided ‘yes’, but that the field notes would be treated differently than the recorded interview data; the former would be used for elaboration and exemplification while the latter would elicit the discursive strategies developed by experienced workers to manage their client interactions.
Interrogating the research process
Before approaching the more sticky theme of negotiation strategies and how these might be elucidated, we need to understand better the discursive constructions of reality and talk. I begin with the view that language is a mode of action (Austin 1962; Searle 1969) and that words can effect change and make things happen. Further, language is historically-situated so that while language is socially shaping, it is also socially shaped (Fairclough 1995). An assumption I make is that the narratives related by the research participants verbalise and situate their experiences as text (Schriffen 1996); in this way, they transform and displace stretches of experience from the past into linguistically represented episodes (Labov 1972b).
In developing a research methodology, I have been guided by several concerns related to the research process (Bourdieu 1993, 1995, 1997b), and in particular, with the politics of the sociological interview as a site of power and knowledge that pro duces distinct social realities and kinds of subjects (Foucault 1977, 1980). The research interview is more than a context for eliciting a participant viewpoint. It also embodies ‘gaze’ (Foucault 1977, 1980) and ‘voice’, which socially construct the participants and structure the outcomes of the interview. My first two concerns are empirical.
3 I am using the term ‘voice’ here in the sense of Bakhtin’s writings (1981, 1986) to focus on subject positions associated with particular social genres. But I am also thinking of a strong sense of identity within an individual, an ability to express a personal point of view, and a sense of personal well-being that allows an informant to respond and become engaged with the interview process (Delgado 1993; McElroy-Johnson 1993).
44 Secondary and mediated data
In the bars where the men work, the background music and chatter do not allow for a recording to be made of the actual talk between the workers and their customers and I was never present at the time of the sex session (nor would this have been desirable as it would have certainly constrained the talk and, perhaps too, the sex). However, reported speech is always shaped in the re-telling and while it may be close to the original, can never be an exact correspondence to what happened: a clarification may be called for, a description may become embellished, or the ‘chatter’ may be cut away. Memories are continually re-fashioned in the formation of identity, a process in which certain events from the past are given weight and acquire subjective significance (Schratz-Hadwich 1995; Mandler and Johnson 1977). Structurally, reported speech also differs from other forms of the ‘already said’ due to its parataxic construction; functionally, reported speech is often construed as ‘proof even though it is secondary and mediated (Lane-Mercier 1991; Bloor 1995; Schiffrin 1993).
The second empirical concern lies with the process of translation. I conducted the interviews with the bar workers and with most of the Thai informants in Thai, and then transcribed the Thai into English. Although I checked the translations with English speaking Thai men when I felt unsure about a particular idiom, or where I found parts of the tape unclear, the arena of translation is highly problematic (Niranjana 1992:8-9). The challenge remains to preserve the range of possible local responses and interpretations of a text (Hatim and Mason 1990:64-75).4
Even more significantly, we need to question what assumptions can be made about language use when the text under study is no longer in its original form. Bilmes
4 Jack Bilmes (1996) highlights some of the problems and possibilities involved in the microanalysis of verbal interactions of exotic languages, where readers are unfamiliar with the language being analysed. The major problem is of course that of interpretive authority; the writer has the “unexaminable authority to say what the utterances represented in the transcripts mean” (Bilmes 1996:172), and even if he were to present a literal, word-for-word translation along with a second translation that attempts to preserve the meaning, in the end it is only those who are familiar with the language and speech community under investigation who can hold the author accountable. How thick a description is needed then to convey contextual knowledge? Bilmes (1996), turning to criteria formulated by Schlegoff (1991:65), concludes that more explicit contextualisation may be required for readers dealing with culturally unfamiliar material. Also of interest here is Pawson’s discussion (1996) of the need to theorise the sociological interview.
45 (1996) highlights three complications when working with transcripts of the Thai language: first, how to identify overlap or read significance into pauses, when turn taking operates differently to that operating in English? Second, the high degree of indexicality^ in spoken Thai and the accompanying potential for ambiguity means that a speaker may omit information (for example, relative time of occurrence) if s/he considers it can be assumed by the context. Third, discourse markers may be used variously to express degree of certainty, emphasis or desire for confirmation. For example, naa may be used as a final participle to solicit a reply, in which case its sense is similar to right?’, but naa “can also be used to merely solicit attention or to affirm ongoing interactivity, to affirm a point” (Bilmes 1996:183-84). Similarly, ko can indicate a causal relationship, in which case its meaning is equivalent to therefore or so\ it may also be used in response to a question and indicates that the interlocuter is thinking through his reply or that he may entirely agree with what has been just said, in which case ko is similar to a drawn out we-ll in English.
One answer to these concerns, I believe, is to not only confirm the translations with Thai speakers of English, but also to triangulate the data back to the informants, thereby allowing them to question the interpretations of the text. I will return to point again below. But first, I want to look more closely at the sociolinguistic interview.
Politicising the research interview
The sociolinguistic interview, an arena within which professional knowledge is applied to constitute individuals and groups as objects of research inquiry and action, is in itself a complex institutional discourse. The sociolinguistic interview brackets particular kinds of actions and behaviours and evokes certain discursive conventions, which thereby frame the interpretation of what is said (Silverman 1993). The interview may also frame how the ‘what’ is said, as informants select responses based on their reading of the interviewer’s ‘apperceptive background’ (Bakhtin 1986). In this sense,
5 Indexicality refers to a class of expressions that make different sense in different places and times - ‘here’, T ‘this’ and so on (Sacks 1992; Antaki and Widdicombe 1998). McElhinny (1994), for instance, distinguishes between referential (that is, direct) associations and contingent (indexical) markers in her analysis of gendered relations. Direct markers of gender are unequivocal and unambiguous: these include the categorical symbols of gender such as the gendered pronouns ‘he’ or ‘she’, or abbreviations like ‘Mr’ or Ms’.
46 frame carries a negative connotation. However, I would expand the term to signify the ‘alignments’ people bring to their interactions with each other (Goffman 1963a, 1974); the set of expectations and associated ‘scripts’ they bring to these interactions (Schank and Ableson 1977); and their own interpretive acts (MacLachlan and Reid 1994).6 7If we understand frame to include alignments, discursive expectations and interpretive acts, then the sociological interview is also a site of mutual production. Informants are not mere puppets of social structures, nor are they ‘dopes’ (Goffman 1969; Silverman 1994:69-70) and the conditions of production and interpretation are not confined to the researcher alone. Indeed, as I will show in chapter five, the interview is also a site for enacting and realising identity.
Fairclough (1995) has criticised the early work done in conversational analysis - as characterised by Grice’s ‘Cooperative Principle’ (1975) and Sacks, Schegloff and Jefferson’s ethnomethodological work on turn taking (Sacks et al. 1978) - for its emphasis on cooperative interaction and the assumption that talk necessarily take place between equals. Instead, Fairclough argues that for a person to be able to contribute equally in a discussion, s/he must have equal status, “which presumes having equal discoursal and pragmatic rights and obligations” (1995:47). What this means is that the tenor 7 of my discussions with the research participants - as enacted through the dimensions of power and solidarity (Poynton 1989) - was shaped by the dynamics of the interaction between myself as a middle class, non-Thai, Thai-speaking, gay- identified researcher and young Thai male sex workers of quite different educational and socio-economic backgrounds.
Social relations in Thailand are hierarchical, not egalitarian and based on merit (Chayan 1993; Ford and Kittisuksathit 1994; Fordham 1995, 1998; Klausner 1994; Brummelhuis 1993; Turton 1991; Wolters 1992). Further, patron-client relationships
6 The terms script, frame and schema are used variously in the fields of linguistics (Fillmore 1975, 1976; Gumperz, 1997), artificial intelligence (Schank and Abelson 1977), cognitive and social psychology (Rumelhart 1977; Abelson 1975 1976), sociology (Goffman 1974, 1981; Hymes 1974) and anthropology (Bateson 1972). However, underlying these terms is the notion of expectations (Tannen 1993). 7 Tenor refers to the negotiation of social relationships among participants and the projection of interpersonal meaning (Eggins 1994:63-67; Martin 1992:523-526) as these play themselves out in terms of three different continua: equal-unequal power, frequent-occasional contact, and high-low affective involvement (Poynton 1985).
47 are pervasive. It is important to consider that while power has associations with dominance and lack of autonomy, and so tends to have negative connotations, not all cultures regard vertical relations in this way and, instead, may regard patron-client relations as neutral. Mead, for example, argues that patronage relationships in Thai contexts are characterized by reciprocity and a stream of exchanges, and that such relations “arepersonalized... and serve to distribute resources” (1994:113-16; original emphasis).8
In the Thai language, social relations are reflected in forms marking politeness, which serve to effectively honour and elevate the listener, while self-effacing the speaker (Khanittanan 1988:353). Further, a speaker must make lexical selections along three dimensions - pronominal reference, age and social position - with each dimension having important features (Khanittanan 1988:361). In particular, the “dimension based on age is an ancient feature of Thai, older than the dimension of social position based on rank and status” and expresses the importance of kinship relations (Khanittanan 1988:361). Thus, in the Bangkok-Thai language, pronominal usage is affected by age, sex, education and occupation, among other social variables (Palakornkul 1972), and a complex system of hierarchical structures inherent in the more formal pronouns serve to regulate and control communication. Consider, for example, some of the terms that may be selected for the pronoun ‘you’ (Table 2.2):
8 Mead (1994) argues that patronage relationships are personalized in that the patron and client freely choose each other; while the patrons and clients play different social roles and exchanges are usually made between dissimilar resources, each side expects to obtain what is otherwise not available from the patronage. “The patron secures and rewards the client’s loyalty and service, and the client reciprocates, each contributing such resources as he/she controls” (Mead, 1994:113). Patronage relationship relations should not be seen as a simple commercial transaction as resources may include support and protection, information, personal and sexual favours, and loyalty and trust.
48 Table 2.2 Some terms that may be used for the pronoun ‘you’
than - respectful
khun — normal usage; also similar to Mr or Ms as in khun Joh
theu - spoken by female friends to each other or by elders and teachers to younger people and students
pee-nong - as in older-younger brother or sister; used to indicate closeness
mae - children invariably say mae or khun mae when speaking to their own or someone else’s mother to mean ‘you’
But while I agree that not all interactions are cooperative, meanings may be, and are, co-constructed. Bourdieu points the way: the structure of any linguistic pro duction depends not only on the symbolic power relations between speakers, but also on their ability to access and control the language of authority (1977a:648; my emphasis). Further, while forms of address depend on both the power relations between interactants and on the degree of formality or intimacy (Brown and Gilman 1968), intimacy is not pre-determined, but continually negotiated and reworked in interaction. In many of the research interviews, part of the process of getting started involved a negotiation of relationship status and a sifting through lexical alternates. Was I a teacher - in which case I would be called Ajarn - or could I be addressed by my first name? Should I be called khun or peel
A related difficulty is that sexual behaviour, more than any other, is bound by strict rules of “secrecy, decency and modesty” to the extent that sexuality is related in complex ways “both to verbal prohibition and to the obligation to tell the truth, of hiding what one does, and of deciphering what one is” (Foucault 1988:16). Thus, while the male bar workers and I share certain concerns relating to male-male sex, sexual practice or health, I remain aware that the workers may have engaged in a process of “self-surveillance” (Bourdieu 1977a:658-62) in order to maintain face (naa)
49 and satisfy their wish to be seen as regular guys, rather than one of those guys.9 A major issue then when eliciting information about sexual behaviour is how to ensure that an informant does not ‘shade’ or conceal information. The issue is “doubly sensitive where sexual orientation may be proscribed... [or] a closely guarded secret” (Coxon 1993:541).
A further complication is that disclosure of sexual behaviour, in this time of HIV, is subject to desirability, precisely because the Thai government’s 100 per cent condom campaign has been directly linked to changes in sexual behaviour, and in formants know what the answers ‘should’ be. It’s possible, then, that a campaign message to ‘use a condom every time’ may inhibit discussion about instances of un protected sex, and informants may find it easier, for example, to ‘admit’ to condom slippage or breakage than to sex without a condom. These various considerations lead to further questions about insider-outsider status and what constitutes authoritative speech about a ‘gay’ subject (Halperin 1995:13).
Who speaks?
I want to know your story. And then I will tell it back to you in such a way that it becomes mine, my own. Re-writing you, I write myself anew. I am still author, authority. I am still the coloniser, the speaking subject, and you are now at the centre of my talk. bell hooks 1990:151-2
The concept of Other was developed predominantly in relation to Women as Other (de Beauvoir 1953) and in relation to anthropological representations of race and ethnicity (for example, Clifford and Marcus 1986; Said 1979, 1989). bell hooks (1990:151-2) sees Othering as a technique to reinforce authority and legitimise dominance; Spivak (1986:229) has been even more sceptical of the possibility of any real representation, and views the Other as “simply a name that provides the alibi for
9 Face is a person’s self image and something that is “emotionally invested ... can be lost, maintained, enhanced, and must be constantly attended to in an interaction” (Brown and Levinson 1987:61). Because face cannot be claimed for oneself (Goffman 1967) but must be maintained through the actions of others, face becomes significant in interactions as people work jointly to present and preserve one another’s public image.
50 erasing the investigator’s intervention into the construction and representation of narrative.” Kitzinger and Wilkinson elaborate in this way:
[T]he notion of who and what Others are (what they are like, the attributes assigned to them, the sorts of lives they are supposed to lead) is intimately related to ‘our’ notion of who and what ‘we’ are. That is, ‘we’ use the Other to define ourselves: ‘we’ understand ourselves in relation to what ‘we’ are not. Kitzinger and Wilkinson 1996:8
Bhaba describes how an awareness of multiple subject positions - race, gender, generation, institutional base, geographical locale, sexual orientation - has been useful in interpellating post-modern claims to objective identity. But, he urges us to go further and think “beyond these initial categories and initiatory subjects” and focus instead on “those interstitial moments or processes that are produced in the articulation of difference” (1994:70; original emphasis). It is patent that researchers and researched draw on different frameworks for interpreting the experiences under study. These are the differences to be uncovered and made explicit, for such under standings can unmask how:
...strategies of representation or empowerment come to be formulated in the competing claims of communities, where despite shared histories of deprivation and discrimination, the exchange of values, meanings, and priorities may not be collaborative and dialogical, but profoundly antagonistic, conflictual and incommensurable. Homi Bhaba 1994:269-70
Through the research I have been given the chance to talk to and, in many instances, develop friendships with Thai men who are attempting to make sense of their lives. In so doing, they, are I believe, also contesting identities and everyday practices, and constructing their erotic and social selves. But I do not work alongside nor live with these men; rather, I research about them. This is a position of privilege, one which is legitimised by the power of academia, but not one that licenses me to objectify and name them (cf. Sittirak 1996).10
10 Bourdieu (1996) warns that when the asymmetry between researcher and researched in terms of cultural capital and economic capital is markedly different (as it obviously was in this research), there is danger that the research relationship can become a form of symbolic violence and that the informants feel themselves judged and objectified.
51 The message is clear: remain aware of the ‘authentic’ voice of the research participants; avoid acting as a spokesperson (Coyle 1996; Stanley 1996); resist the “temptation to exaggerate the exotic, the heroic, or the tragic” (Olson and Shopes 1991:198); and, above all, avoid inventing a discourse of Otherness that establishes and reinforces hierarchies of knowledge and power (Said 1978). The real challenge is to neither widen nor conflate the gap between the researched and myself but to heed Bhaba’s call (1994) to remain mindful of the difference. Kitzinger and Wilkinson (1996:18) suggest a way forward: focus on the dialogue that occurs between the researcher and the researched so that the work is not “so much about the Other but about the interplay between the researcher and the Other” (original emphasis). James Clifford (1986), in Writing Culture, describes this as creating a text within a context of collaborative story making, which celebrates dialogue over monologue and polyphony over monophonic authority.
A methodological framework for integrated data analysis
I have attempted to address my concerns about the research process by drawing on a methodological framework in which reflexivity is central to the data analysis.11 The framework was influenced initially by Layder (1993), who developed a research map which included four interacting elements: context (values, tradition, forms of social and economic organization and power relations); setting (both work-related activities such as labour markets and non-work related activities such as leisure or religious organizations); situated activity (face-to-face activity involving symbolic communication); and self (self-identity and the individual’s social experience as these are influenced by the other three elements).
Layder’s research map can provide a useful analysis of work-related settings; however, despite his claim that the four elements “shade into and interweave with each other” (1993:74-80), the map adopts a determinist position, and does not allow for an analysis of linguistic processes. Elaborating on Layder’s work (1993), Crichton (1996)
11 I would like to thank Jonathon Crichton and Professor Christopher Candlin for their valuable insights in the development of the framework.
52 and Crichton and Candlin (forthcoming) developed a quartile model that allows for a more systematic investigation of both linguistic and social processes within institutional settings. Their model integrates four perspectives: text analysis, the text as socially-situated practice, narratives based on experience (what the participants perceive to be going on), and socio-historical conditions under which the discursive practices arise. At any point, any one of these four components can become the focus of a research study; when the focus of the study are stories told by the participants, then their experiences are the purpose of the study and the other three elements provide further insight. But at a particular point in time, the focus might equally be text analysis, in which case socially-situated practice, the participants’ experiences, and socio-historical conditions provide the insight.
My own framework comprises four interacting perspectives:
A socio-historical perspective
The socio-historical conditions within which the discursive and sexual practices surrounding bar-based sex work occur; in particular, how global constructions of gender and sexuality and HIV/AIDS frame male-male sex behaviours and male sex work. In de Certeau’s terms (1984:xi-xiv), these are the operational combinations that compose male bar work.
In chapter three for example, I will describe how global constructions of male sex work have been represented in scientific and medical discourses and how these converge on and are reinforced by the discourses employed by the Thai government to talk about HIV/AIDS and sex work. I will show too how these discourses have been reflected and reproduced in the Thai press. In chapter four, I will examine how constructions of gender and sexuality in Thailand affect behavioural norms and group identification and thereby frame the interactions among homosexually active men. It is this intertextuality (Foucault 1984) which provides the macro-social organisational context for the research.
53 An economy of the bar sites (situated experience)
My intent in drawing on this perspective is to make explicit and theorise the everyday localised practices of the bar as these are encoded and legitimised (Bourdieu 1979) in ‘house rules’; in the way that access to resources is regulated; and in power relations. Additionally, I will seek to uncover how the bar workers manoeuvre within the space organised by these techniques of socio-cultural production.
An ethnography based on narratives
Silverman (1997) views narratives as information about informants’ understanding of how things work, rather than as objective reports of what actually goes on or of the systems that regulate their lives. Nevertheless, the stories related by the participants as they attempt to make sense of their lives verbalise and situate their experiences as text (Schiffrin 1996), thereby rendering it inhabitable (de Certeau 1988:xii). In this way, talk becomes a technique to transform and displace stretches of experience from the past - what we have done, what has happened to us and our understanding of how things work - into linguistically represented episodes (Labov 1966a, 1996b). Such “narrative moments” (Plummer 1995:34) explicate a discourse of the bar. By situating the content of such stories within their historical and cultural contexts (Labov 1972b), we can begin to interpret the challenge to self and identity that proliferate through the life course of a person.
Reflexivity and analysis
Reflexivity is central to the methodological framework. Engaging the participants in a process of reflexivity provides the text analysis pivotal to understanding how culture, power and discourse interact, reinforce and subvert one another. Tri angulation is seen as a technique to make explicit the “ensemble of procedures” that constitute everyday practice (de Certeau 1988:43), that is, the schemas of operation and the techniques of control as they are located in discourses, or ideology (Foucault 1979; 1980; Giddens 1984); in the acquired (Bourdieu’s habitus 1990b); or in the form of time or occasion (de Certeau 1984).
54 The framework is best viewed as a series of interacting and overlapping circles (Figure 2.1). At the centre is the sociology and discourse of the bar. These are structured by interpersonal relations among the male bar workers, customers and bar operators and contextualised by social constructions of sexuality and prostitution and by the economy located in the bars.
Narratives based on experience
Reflexivity and Analysis
A socio- An economy historical of the perspective bar sites
Figure 2.1 Methodological tool for an integrated data analysis
What will be immediately apparent is that such a framework favours the act of talking, the assumption being that privileging talk in this way “effects an appropriation, or reappropriation of language by its speakers; ...establishes a present relative to time and place; and ...posits a contract with the other (the interlocutor) in a network of places and relations” (de Certeau 1988:xiii; original emphasis). I will argue later that this process of reflexivity allows the informants to comment on their own
55 talk and on the talk of others and, thereby, discover the discursive strategies employed by each other to manoeuvre within the bars (Bourdieu 1990a, 1990c, 1991). That is, it can uncover how the bar workers make the best of the cards they are dealt.
The integrated framework also allows one to understand how the global and local discursive practices interact and to comment on this interdiscursivity. What is needed now is an instrument for making sense of discourse or, in Labov’s terms (1972a), a tool to analyse the content and structure, the genre and context. Such a tool should allow for a description, interpretation and explanation of the micro- and macro discourses informing the study (as advocated by Candlin (1987a) and Fairclough (1989). Description here refers to the descriptive analysis of the text; interpretation relates to the analysis of the discursive practice (in other words to how the text enters into social interaction); and explanation includes the social origins and consequences of the discursive practice (Crichton 1996).
Earlier, I began by describing language as a mode of action that is both socially shaping and socially shaped. But language is also multi-functional, and any text or talk simultaneously enacts ideational, interpersonal and textual functions. Thus, language use is always simultaneously constitutive of social identities, social relations and systems of knowledge and beliefs (Halliday 1978).
Language as social practice
Wertsch (1991) views language as modes of discourse that include distinct vocabularies and voices, and characteristic patterns of reasoning. An assumption underpinning his work is that individuals have access to more than one ‘language’ and that these ‘languages’ are organised in accordance with some kind of pattern of privileging so that in any particular verbal mediation, different social languages and speech genres are deemed appropriate. Drawing on the work of Vygotsky (1981) and Bakhtin (1981, 1986), Wertsch forefronts the pertinence of agency and his concerns with practice and collective action, by describing how the individual mediates across various modes of discourse (1991:119-20).
56 This is a social constructionist framework (Thomas 1993; Herdman and Kippax 1995; Kippax and Crawford 1993), in which social structures are not “unitary and cohesive but contain contradiction; rules and norms may be and are contested and the social structures may be and are transformed” (Kippax and Crawford 1993:257; my emphasis). Agency is central to social constructionist theory for it “is the intended and unintended consequences of human action that reproduce and transform social structures” (Kippax and Crawford 1993:257). Social constructionism is then an attempt to understand how people appropriate and transform knowledge.
The term discourse has been used erratically in different research streams, and I would like to clarify my own use of the terminology before moving on. For Rafoth (1990) discourse is an ensemble of ideas, concepts, and categories through which meaning is given to phenomena. Discourse is an inter-woven set of language and - discursive practices - which are in turn situated in a particular discursive field (Kress 1985). In other words, any form of situated discourse occurs within the broader context of societal understanding as well as within more specific ‘orders of discourse’ in a Foucauldian sense (Sarangi and Baynham 1996). Such systematically (and hierarchically) organised sets of statements give expression to the meanings and values of an institution. Interdiscursivity (also referred to as intertextuality) - the way that different discourses and genres (socially ratified types of linguistic activity with specified subject positions) interact on each other in a particular arena - is an important associate. Again, in Foucault’s terms, discourses are situated in a system of power relations, domains of objects, and rituals of truth (1984). 19
This now places my understanding of discourse in line with the critical tradition of Candlin (1987b, 1997), van Dijk (1993), Caldus-Coulthard and Coulthard (1996), Fairclough (1989, 1993, 1995), Fowler (1996) and Wodak (1996). It en compasses micro- and macro-level social practice and the way in which language both shapes and is shaped by socio-political realities. Critical discourse analysis focuses on the role of discourse in the (re)production of dominance, where dominance is defined
Note: While discourse analysis emphasises language use as social practice and provides a link between the sociological and the linguistic (Bell 1991), it is important that we not lose the distinction between discourse and social practice and I will continue to refer to both the discursive and sexual practices surrounding male bar work.
57 as “the exercise of social power by elites, institutions, or groups, that results in social inequality, including political, cultural, class, ethnic, racial and gender inequality” (van Dijk 1996a:249-250).
I also relate discourse to the Hallidayan formulation of register, “the con figuration of semantic resources that a member of a culture typically associates with a situation type... [and] the meaning potential that is accessible in a given social context” (Halliday 1978:111). As noted above, social power is based on privileged access to socially valued resources, or ‘capital’ in the sense of Bourdieu (1990d, 1991, 1996), and a major consideration in the discursive reproduction of power and dominance is the (unequal) access to discursive and communicative events (Bourdieu 1977a, 1991). In this respect, discourse is similar to other valued social resources (such as wealth, income, status, group membership) that form the basis of power (van Dijk 1993, 1996).
Discourse communities
For James Gee (1992:107), each discourse in a society is ‘owned’ and ‘operated’ by a socioculturally defined group or network of people, who are accepted as members of the discourse. Further, each discourse is normative in that it involves ways of talking, acting, interacting, valuing and believing, which in turn display membership; a particular discourse acts as a kind of ‘identity kit’, “which comes complete with the appropriate costume and instructions on how to act [and] talk” in a manner that others will recognise (Gee 1989:7). In this way, discourses act as techniques to organise and regulate the discursive and communicative schema of conditions and strategies of access of a social group: indeed, who may say what, how,
1 n to whom, and in what circumstances (van Dijk 1996:87; original emphasis).
13 The development of the concept of discourse communities can be traced back to such writing as Foucault’s analysis of ‘discursive formations’ (The Archaeology of Knowledge, 1983) and Geertz’ work on ‘local knowledge’ in archaeology (1983). While the concept of discourse community lends itself to many interpretations, one cross cutting theme is the idea of “language as a basis for sharing or holding in common: shared expectations, shared participation, commonly (or communally) held ways of expressing” (Rafoth 1990:140). Discourse community entails a number of assumptions, including the following: that discourse operates within conventions defined by communities; that language use in a group
58 Discourses are not mastered by overt instruction, however, but by ‘en- culteration’ (apprenticeship) into the social practices through interaction with others who have already mastered the discourse (Gee 1989:7). In this way, a discourse community develops and continues to develop particular discursive expectations (for example, appropriacy of topics) and even to acquire specific lexis (Swales 1990). Because the notion of discourse community entails assumptions about conformity and convention, it points us towards asking about the broader social and political im plications of the role of language “in conformity and diversity, participation and ex clusion” (Rafoth 1990:140), and “how a particular discourse community uses its discursive conventions to initiate new members, or how the discourse reifies particular values or beliefs” (Swales 1990:22; original emphasis).
Such communities of practice do not exist in isolation but continually intersect, reinforce and unmake one another. Further, a person may be a member of more than one community of practice simultaneously, even though the discourses may be in ideological opposition (Gee 1992). We see this illustrated among those men who work in the bars, selling sex to other men, and who are also married and supporting children, for some, ideologies of prostitution rest uneasily alongside those of family values. (See chapter three for further exemplification of this point.) Thus, the instrumental value of the concept of communities of practice lies in examining the interplay of identity and power relationships and the social and linguistic gains and losses (the inherent trade-offs) an individual faces by belonging to a particular community and not to others.
Critical sociolinguistics
But discourse communities are not ideologically innocent. Rather, they are organised around the production and legitimation of particular forms of knowledge is a form of social behaviour; that discourse is a means of maintaining and extending a group’s knowledge and of initiating new members into the group; and, that discourse constitutes and is constitutive of the group’s knowledge. In this sense, a discourse community is more than a ‘speech community’ (for example, Braithwaite, 1984) in which members are seen as sharing the same linguistic rules. Labov’s (1966a) understanding of communities that have shared norms is probably closer.
59 and social practices at the expense of others. Nor are they transparent, and it is the aim of critical discourse analysis to attempt to probe what is naturalised and taken for granted within particular discourses (located in the habitus, Bourdieu 1990c), and to locate the structures, strategies and other properties of text, talk, verbal interaction or communicative events which play a role in the modes of reproduction of power (Candlin 1987a, 1987b; van Dijk 1996b).
It is important here to remember that the discursive reproduction of dominance has two major dimensions, namely that of production and reception, and that social power may be jointly produced. Thus, an analysis of strategies of resistance and challenge are as important in understanding actual power and dominance relations in society as the discursive strategies employed by the elite to maintain inequality (van Dijk 1996a:250).14
What all of this means is that forms of discourse which express ideology must be viewed not only as socially and historically situated practices but also as linguistic constructions which display an articulated structure (Thompson 1984). While it is individuals who use and create discourse to construct, reinforce and critique social roles, there are also whole sets of linguistic, semantic and pragmatic exclusions, the meanings that are unwelcome and non-functional in given contexts (Candlin 1997). Bourdieu, for example, has pointed to “the censorship inherent in particular linguistic production relations” (1977a:651). More recent work by Lynn Thiesmeyer (forthcoming) has begun to draw attention to what she describes as a ‘discourse of silencing’, discursive mechanisms that are enacted upon a potential contributor to a discourse by another, usually more powerful agent of that discourse. While power may be exercised by an individual, however, critical discourse analysis focuses on the actions of a discourse community precisely because “although embodied in the minds of individuals, social cognitions are social because they are shared and presupposed by group members ...and because they underlie the social and cultural organisation of a society as a whole” (Resnick et al., in van Dijk 1993:257).
14 Van Dijk distinguishes the production and legitimation of dominance in text and talk from its effects on the social minds of recipients: “Discursive (re)production of power results from social cognitions of the powerful, whereas the situated discourse structures result in social cognitions... in both cases discourse forms the crucial mediating role. They are truly the means of the symbolic reproduction of dominance” (1996a:259).
60 Discourse sociolinguistics as a discipline has its origins in the convergence of discourse analysis and sociolinguistics (Fairclough and Wodak 1996; Wodak 1996). Hymes (1974), for example, strongly influenced by ethnographic research, saw language as behaviour embedded in social contexts such that situational, structural and cultural factors determine communication.15 For Wodak (1996), discourse socio linguistics is an approach capable of demystifying disorders of communication, which may have become institutionalised and embedded in ideology. Such disorders of discourse, she argues, “result from gaps between distinct and insufficiently cognitive worlds: the gulfs that separate insiders from outsiders, members of an institution from clients of those institutions, and elites from the normal citizen uninitiated in the arcana of bureaucratic language and life” (Wodak 1996:2).16
Candlin (1987b:413) moves us forward; his work on conflict resolution focuses attention not only communicative ‘fractures’, but also on how potential or actual conflict is variably resolved in discourse, for as he explains, “these ways of accomplishing are informative of how participants perceive themselves and the encounters in which they are engaged.” Further:
...whether there is a fracture or costly maintenance is itself of extreme significance for an understanding of the competing ideologies which are at work, both across participants and within them. Candlin 1987b:41 5 (original emphasis)
For Fairclough (1995), sociolinguistic textual analysis involves analysis of both the form and organisation of texts, the texture in a Hallidayan sense: “one cannot properly analyse content without simultaneously analysing form, because contents are always necessarily realised in forms, and different contents entail different forms and vice versa” (Fairclough 1995:188). Thus, textual analysis subsumes two complementary kinds of analysis. The first of these is intertextuality (as discussed
15 The importance of situational context when considering meaning was first noted by Malinowski (1923), who realised that the context within which a verbalisation is embedded is indispensable to understanding the words. 16 Of further interest is the work of Butler (1995, 1997; ‘linguistic vulnerability’ and performative speech acts), Tannen (1990; gender-specific language behaviour), Fairclough (1993, 1995; language and power), Halliday (1985) and Thompson (1984). From outside the field of linguistics, there is Bourdieu’s symbolic capital (1991, 1987).
61 above). The second is linguistic analysis, which covers both linguistic analysis at the level of the sentence as well as textual analysis above the sentence level, such as inter- sentential cohesion or the way that talk is organised and maintained.17 Whereas inter- textual analysis shows how texts draw on a plurality of genres, discourses and narratives and how certain texts are privileged over others, linguistic analysis shows how texts draw on linguistic systems (Fairclough 1995).
For the reminder of the study, I will make critical discourse analysis part of the methodological framework in order to explicate the bar talk and show how the discursive interactions among male bar workers, their customers and the bar operators are structured and institutionalised. However, I note that, because of the ‘second-hand’ nature of reported speech and the difficulties inherent in analysing translated data (as described above), the linguistic analysis will be necessarily confined to the sentence level and then limited to the lexicon.
My particular focus will be to identify ‘critical moments’ in the interactions among the bar workers, customers and bar operators. Drawing on Candlin’s ‘inter actional cruces’ - moments where normal conversational cooperativeness either breaks down or requires major conversational work to be maintained (1987b:415) - I define critical moments as follows:
Critical moments - points in an interaction when one of the participants makes a decision, often unconsciously, about how to manage or maintain the interaction, and then selects from a set of discursive strategies in order to accomplish this goal.18
See, for example, the contributions made to conversational analysis by Levinson (1979); Goffman (1981); Gumperz (1982); Brown and Yule (1983); Tannen (1984); Coulthard (1985); Brown and Levinson (1987); van Dijk (1985); Moerman (1988); Grice (1989); Sacks (1992); and Schiffrin (1994). 18 There is an obvious link here to Bourdieu’s description (1991) of the ‘critical situations’ that arise when communication occurs across class boundaries. Also of bearing is Gumperz (1982), who points to crucial sites, such as identity, a site which not only resists definition but which houses a multitude of critical moments, in which meanings are proposed, resisted and negotiated.
62 Two over-arching research questions will guide the study from this point: i. How does the language of communication (Thai or English) affect the inter actions among workers, customers and management and the negotiation of the off. ii. What are the critical moments in the interactions among the workers, customers and management and how are these discursively resolved?
In chapter four, for example, I will interrogate the ‘censorship’ inherent in the linguistic production of gender and sexuality in Thailand. In so doing, I will critique how homosexually active women and men have been named and positioned as subjects in Thai academic studies and in the Thai press. My interest will not be to list the various terms that name homosexual behaviours in Thailand, but to examine when and why Thai men and women choose to disclose (or not to disclose) their sexuality. I will argue that, on the one hand, the discourses that name ‘the homosexual’ are performative in that they inaugurate the homosexual subject and open up a discursive space for further debate. On the other, they enact certain linguistic conventions that reinforce heterosexual presumptions. Thus, while chapter three will be concerned with outlining global representations of male-male sex, male sex work and HIV7AIDS in Thailand, chapter four will attempt to lay open the boundaries where these global and local representations of gender and sexuality intersect and where meanings are re signified.
In chapter four, I will also question the uncritical application of ‘Western’ concepts of gender and sexuality and Western constructions of prostitution to Thai studies of sexuality. I will argue that there is no coherent community among Thai male sex workers. I will posit instead the concept of ‘community of practice’ as a more apt descriptor, precisely because it allows us to celebrate the differences that Homi Bhaba sees as theoretically innovative and politically crucial (Bhaba 1994:269; my emphasis). I will also apply these understandings in chapter five to further question how men are apprenticed and enculturated into the bars, how they normalise their work by deploying forms of talk, and how the bars serve to organise and regulate the discursive interactions between male bar workers and their customers.
63 In chapter five, I will show that the bar is a crucial site precisely because it is in the bar where Candlin’s (1997) “meanings that are unwelcome and non-functional” come into play. Negotiation of the off is also a crucial site for the bar worker, as he attempts to negotiate a particular sexual practice, secure a decent ‘tip’ for his services, and ‘satisfy’ his customer. The research will attempt to make such meanings explicit and thereby open to analysis. I will also look more specifically at how ‘masculine’ and ‘homosexual’ identities are displayed in the setting of the bar and how the talk deployed by both workers and customers performs masculinity and enacts male-male desires. I will show that certain discursive expectations and conventions regulate this bar talk. I will then seek to locate the discursive strategies developed by the bar workers to direct and manage this talk and secure an off.
In chapter six, I will focus attention on the talk between the sex workers and their customers outside the bar setting. More specifically, I will be concerned with how the sexual session is languaged, and I will comment on both the intertextuality and on the linguistic features of the interview data. I will also focus attention on the meta-discursive dialogue between the research participants and myself, a theme that I will carry through into chapter seven.
In chapter seven, I will first define a set of‘variables’ (correlates) that interact with negotiation of sexual practice. I will then describe the emergent shifts in perceptions of HIV/AIDS in Thailand. I will contend that these shifts are best under stood within the context of specific sexual cultures. In so doing, I will argue for a broadening of the public discourses around gender/sexuality so as to include more diverse sexualities.
At this point, I will return to the arguments broached in chapter one: firstly, that a discursive silence has excluded homosexuality from public discourse in Thailand, and that this absence is notable in the discourses surrounding HIV/AIDS; and secondly, that male sex work has been overshadowed by concerns surrounding female commercial sex work.
64 three
Shaping a Discourse
AIDS is constructed through language and, in particular, through the discourses of medicine and science; this construction is ‘true’ or ‘real’ only in certain specific ways - for example, insofar as it successfully guides research or facilitates clinical control over the illness. We cannot look ‘through’ language to determine what AIDS ‘really’ is. Rather, we must explore the site where such determinations ‘really’ occur and intervene at the point where meaning is created in language. Treichler (1987:31)
Public voices / private lives
Foucault, in his History of Sexuality, describes the discursive explosion that has occurred around the subject of sexuality in the Western world as “an apparatus for producing an ever greater quantity of discourse about sex, capable of functioning and taking effect in its very economy” (1979:23). But this valorisation of the discourse of sex has not been universal and I would argue that there has been only reluctant discussion of sexuality and sexual behaviour in many Asian countries, a reluctance often framed by arguments about ‘appropriacy’ and ‘cultural norms’ (Alexander 1995; Carael et al. 1995; Lyttleton 1995). While such screening has not been pronounced in Thailand, cultural models continue to shape shared meaning, and blanket public warning messages about HIV/AIDS are not uniformly recognised (Lyttleton 1994b, 1995:178; Fordham 1996a, 1996b).
65 In this chapter, I will be concerned with mapping the way that HIV/AIDS - as
represented in government, medical and scientific publications - has unfolded in the
Thai public media, and in the minds of the Thai populace. My intention will be to
show how the identification of‘high risk’ groups through epidemiological surveillance
data have projected and reinforced popular understandings of gender and sexuality,
which in turn maintain a ‘proper’ distance between public debate and private lives. In
particular, I will argue that discourses positioned around female commercial sex
workers and a ‘profligate’ heterosexually active male, have overshadowed alternate
discourses, particularly those of male-male sex and male sex work. I will also describe
how constructions of HIV risk built around hetero-sex have been fore grounded at the
expense of broader understandings of ‘at risk’ behaviours. In so doing, I will posit an
argument that I will elaborate in chapter seven: that it is timely to refocus the Thai
HIV/AIDS campaign to give greater attention to more diverse understandings of
sexuality. Drawing on the interview data, I will support my position by developing a taxonomy of sexual sites and a social network map for commercial and non commercial male-male sex. In this way, I will demonstrate that Thai male bar workers traverse both heterosexual and homosexual networks and are thus capable of
informing our understanding of a broader range of Thai socio-sexual contexts. I begin by reviev/ing the epidemiological data that has informed the response to the epidemic
in Thailand.1
Tracking HIV/AIDS in Thailand
The progress of the HIV epidemic in Thailand has been systematically monitored since 1985 (Weniger et al. 1991 :S71 -85), less than a year after the first detection of HIV in the country. Sentinel surveillance initially focussed on male and female sex workers, and injecting drug users (IDU), though many other groups were later involved in surveillance (see, for example, Poolcharoen 1998; Rujivipat 1997;
Ungchusak et al. 1995; Weniger et al. 1991 :S76). There are two features to note about
1 The arguments presented here were first developed in a joint publication (McCamish, Storer and Carl 2000) that brought together research on male sex work in Pattaya (McCamish and Sittitrai 1997), my own research in Bangkok (Storer 1999a) and an ongoing bar intervention conducted by Greg Carl of the Thai Red Cross (1997). Note that this dissertation has only drawn on my own data from Bangkok-based male sex work.
66 these early data: first, the surveillance of homosexually active men was in fact sur veillance of male sex workers; second, the initial focus assumed that the epidemic in Thailand would follow a pattern already established in the West, where HIV infection was initially most prevalent among male homosexuals and injecting drug users.
In fact, the assumption that the AIDS epidemic in Thailand would mirror that of the West proved invalid, and there appear to have been, initially at least, two largely segregated HIV epidemics in Thailand (Brown et al. 1994; Weniger et al. 1991). The first occurred among the population of IDUs (Thai subtype B, a variant of the North American and Australian B subtype). The second (subtype E) occurred among hetero sexual populations. As the epidemic has progressed there has been considerable over lap, and subtype E is now the most common type among IDUs, especially in the north. The epidemic can be characterised as a series of waves moving from female sex workers through male customers of the female sex workers, to wives and regular partners of the customers, and then to their children (Pramualratana 1998). This pattern is in contrast to North America, northern Europe and Australia, where the HIV epidemics are concentrated among homosexually active men, and where sub-type B is the most common strain.
These epidemiological studies have been instrumental in identifying high-risk categories. They also bought about a shift in interest from homosexually active men to heterosexual populations and, in particular, female commercial sex workers and the male clients of female sex workers. This change in emphasis is reflected in the Thai response to HIV/AIDS; initially directed towards brothel-based female sex work (eg. Rojanapithayakorn and Hanenberg 1996; Visrutaratna et al. 1995), the educational campaigns were able to tap into an existent and institutionalised female sex industry (Bamber et al. 1997). Later, when it became apparent that women were being infected by their husbands, interventions were directed towards the family (Lyttleton 1996). I would emphasise two consequences of this focus on heterosexual ly active populations: first, there is an absence of continuous epidemiological data for male sex workers after mid-1994 (see for example, MoPH, Thailand 1995; Rujivipat et al. 1997); and second, “sexual behaviours and the HIV risks among homosexually active men are much less well known and understood” (Beyrer 1995:29). Shaping sexuality
Two main approaches have been used to promote the use of condoms in commercial settings in Thailand: a mass advertising campaign aimed at male customers; and a ‘100 percent condom’ campaign targeting commercial sex workers and brothel owners (Rojanapithayakorn and Hanenberg 1996, 1998). Instrumental to these campaigns was an already strong STD infrastructure and an extensive and compelling Thai mass media network. Rojanapithayakorn and Hanenberg (1996) argue that the effectiveness of the Thai response was supported by the pragmatic and non-confrontational nature characteristic of Thai politics and social interactions in general, so that technocrats, public health authorities, police officers and brothel owners were able to join with members of non-government organizations to publicly promote condom use in brothel settings, for what remains an illegal activity.2
However, a number of authors have expressed concern with the way that blanket (and largely homogenised) public messages about HIV have been received by the Thai populace (Beesey 1997; Fordham 1995, 1996; Harrison 1996, 1999; Lyttleton 1995a, 1995b, 1998c). Graham Fordham (1996), for example, has investigated the way that HIV/AIDS has been reflected and articulated in various print media found in northern Thailand.3 He shows that while HIV/AIDS is public domain in Thai print media, the media continue to reflect and generate highly contradictory and ambiguous messages about HIV/AIDS. Further, pursuing the lead provided by epidemiological surveillance data, HIV/AIDS has been publicly constructed around heterosexual male promiscuity and, importantly, promiscuity in the sphere of commercial sex. Within these representations, men are portrayed as failing to control their ‘desires’ and, in variably, as the young (and not so young) rural and urban labourers.
Within this ‘popular’ discourse, the Thai female sex worker is seen as behaving abnormally even though, in satisfying the sexual appetites of men, she serves a ‘useful’ purpose in society by protecting the virtue of an ‘idealised’ Thai woman. Rachel Harrison (1996, 1999) exemplifies how depictions of the pregnant prostitute in
A law suppressing prostitution was enacted in Thailand in 1960 (BE 2503). Fordham’s study collected Thai daily newspapers and weekly and monthly magazines over a four year period (from 1992 until late 1996).
68 Thai literature act as a metaphor for cultural prescriptions concerning Thai women in general and, more specifically, female sex workers. Harrison shows how the Thai female sex worker is often portrayed as a victim but never as a mother, a role reserved for the ‘good’ woman. Further, Harrison (1986) argues that such stories are rep resentative of Thai traditional cultural beliefs about the nature of female sexuality and the need for control in Thai society at large.
A more recent study of female sex workers in Thailand by Peracca et al. (1998) surveyed reactions to the question: ‘Can prostitutes marry?’ The authors concluded ‘yes’, arguing that “a relative lack of severe or lasting stigma” is an important part of the Thai context, facilitates recruitment into prostitution, and permits it to persist on a wide-scale (1998:255). Unfortunately, Peracca et al. (1998) do not include the voices of female sex workers in their survey and they are unclear about what they mean by “a relative lack of stigma”, making no distinction between felt and enacted dis crimination. As such, their conclusions are conditional. Beesey (1997, 1998), on the other hand, asserts that stigmatisation against sex workers has probably increased as a consequence of HIV/AIDS, precisely because the primary focus of media campaigns and other promotions associated with the 100 percent condom campaign, has been female commercial sex. Without a doubt, the flows of information about risks and dangers of HIV/AIDS have resulted in fewer Thai women turning to brothel-based sex work and fewer Thai men (admitting to) patronising sex workers (Rojanapithayakorn and Hanenberg 1998; Lyttleton 1999).
Male promiscuity, on the other hand, has until recently been viewed un critically and excused as normal behaviour - men are promiscuous because that is the way men are - suggesting that control is abnormal, perhaps even unrealistic (Fordham 1966; Lyttleton 1995b). This positioning of Thai men and women is part of a larger historical gendered response and one that reflects an inherent set of double standards for men and women, set within an institutionalised ideology that accords “men the access to women’s sexuality at will” (Lyttleton 1994a:263).
The cultural models that shape sexuality differ markedly for men and women in Thailand, and Thai society continues to grant men sexual privileges while suppressing women’s sexuality, and the perception that women are debased by illicit
69 sexual pleasure, whereas men are not, persists. If an unmarried girl has pre-marital sex and thus becomes ‘soiled’, her parents can sai takra lang nam (lit. scrub her up, meaning to conceal the ‘soiling’ from a suitor; Sukrung 1997b). Significantly, no equivalent maxims apply to young men who have premarital sex. In 1997, the Foundation for Women surveyed 4,789 male college students, aged 17-21, in Bangkok and in three major urban centres in the north, northeast and south of Thailand. The study revealed that 73 percent of male college students reported having sex with steady girlfriends, and that nearly half of this group reported having sex with female student friends (Ekachai 1997; Sukrung 1997b). The then Minister for University Affairs swiftly announced plans to stamp out premarital sex among students by promoting the ‘traditional’ Thai value of female virginity (rak nuan sanguan tua). Khun Sanitsuda Ekachai, writing for the Bangkok Post (1997:11) quickly responded: how could a study of the sexual behaviour of male teenagers be so smoothly turned around to ‘condemn’ females? Surely, the Minister had missed the point: it was not that young Thai men were having more sex than before, but rather, that they were turning from commercial sex encounters to sex with ‘nice’ girls (Ekachai 1997:11).
It seems then that in Thailand, as in other parts of the world, being sexually active is part of being a man. A survey of 444 men between the ages of seventeen and twenty-four in Bangkok and in an urban setting in the north-east of Thailand found that 44 per cent of the men had their first sexual encounter with a female prostitute at an average age of sixteen, and 60 per cent said they visited brothels between one and fifty-five times per year (in Asavaroengchai 1994). In a second survey conducted in 1994, 80 percent of the men interviewed cited fear of STDs (including HIV/AIDS) as the main reason for not having sex in the current climate. Nevertheless, peer pressure to be sexually active remained strong, and any man who admitted to being a virgin risked being called a ‘young chicken’, the implication being that he was cowardly, impotent or gay (Supasilp 1997).
Given these prevailing attitudes, it is not surprising that a third survey of 1200 teenage students in Chiang Mai (two-thirds of them women) revealed that the majority considered it “natural” for men to visit brothels (Asavaroengchai 1994). In a fourth survey of low-income Thai women, 72 percent of the women indicated that pre-marital and extra-marital sex, while appropriate for men, was not appropriate for women.
70 Further, eighty percent of the women did not feel it was apposite for women to seek pleasure as men do (McNamura et al. 1993:3-4). These examples clearly demonstrate that the structural inequalities that give men privilege over women are firmly en trenched.
One consequence of the internalising of this gender asymmetry is that sexual decision-making, an essential factor in the causal profile of HIV transmission, has been largely controlled by men. Not only do gender dynamics affect when and how sex occurs, but also it is the men who choose to wear or not wear condoms.4 In 1994, Jon Ungphakorn, AIDS activist and Director of the NGO ACCESS (AIDS Counselling Centres and Educational Support Services) warned that women’s lack of power in their sexual relationships meant that it had become high risk behaviour for married women to have unprotected sex with their husbands “unless they are absolutely certain that their husbands are not visiting sex establishments” (quoted in Asavaroengchai 1994). Ironically, the fear of HIV infection had highlighted a situation that, according to Allen Beesey (1997, 1998), had been known for decades: that Thai men commonly contract STDs from brothels and pass on their infections to their wives. The situation may well have been ‘known’, but it was not discussed until the threat of HIV/AIDS propelled it into public purview. As in other parts of the world, men’s sexuality and the role of men in the spread of AIDS has largely escaped public attention (Foreman 1990). Middle class sexuality has also been notably absent from public debate in the Thai media campaigns (Fordham 1996; Packard-Winkler 1996; Sawangdee 19985). In addition, non-sexual transmission of HIV (in particular by injecting drug users) has been excluded from the public discourse, despite the fact that HIV sero-prevalence remains above 40 percent among IDUs and that drug use is on the increase (Rujivipat et al. 1997).
To summarise, representations linking HIV/AIDS with heterosexual male promiscuity and female prostitution have reinforced understandings of pools of infection that position the female sex worker as the scapegoat and primary source of
4 For an overview of the way that male-established and male-maintained structures continue to dominate the AIDS epidemic and exercise control over reproduction and women throughout the world, see the Panos Institute’s publication on AIDS and Men (Foreman 1999). 5 Dr Yothin Sawangdee, Institute for Population and Social Science Research (IPSSR), Mahidol University, Bangkok, Thailand (interviewed 24/11/98).
71 infection for men, and exclude non-commercial and non-heterosexual contexts (Lyttleton 1995a). In the next section, I will examine how homosexual contexts and male sex work have been positioned within (or excluded by) Thai discourses.
Looking for the man
As in other parts of Asia, there is a general reticence in Thailand to openly discuss homosexual behaviours (Sittitrai et al. 1992 Chan et al. 1998; Parker 1998; Ratachumpoth 1999). As a consequence, homosexuality has also been largely muted in the Thai HIV/AIDS discourses (Lyttleton 1996; Storer 1999a). Fordham’s (1996) research shows that references to male-male sex behaviours, when found in the Thai print media, are usually chosen for their ‘funny’-sensational value and tend to re inforce stereotypes about heterosexuality and masculinity: the university student who had been murdered “by a gay man in a fit of jealous rage” (The Nation 1997a:C.l); Sonja, the father of two who just didn’t like being a man and so became a she (The Nation, 21 June 1998:1); or Thuanchai, the former transvestite beauty queen who was forced to give up stage lights and high heels for a life of hard labour following Thailand’s economic downturn (Bangkok Post, 1998:3).6
At a forum entitled ‘The Rights of Women who Love Women: The Role of Academia and the Media’7, Dr Thanyalak Anchaya (from Thammasart University) reported that there has been little interest in research about same sex behaviours among Thai academics, and that students who wish to research sexuality are often denied permission or not given support. Rakkit Rattachumpoth (1999) supports Dr
6 A number of Thai magazines directed towards a gay readership do provide men with alternative information about ‘gay’ life. Unfortunately, most of the articles that appear in these publications are translations lifted out of Western gay magazines and, as such, they bear little relation to Thai gay men or contemporary Thai lifestyles (Jackson 1999b). In recent years, however, there has been an increase in alternative information directed towards gay men, most notably via the internet: for example, the Utopia page (http: //www2.best.com/~utopia/); Dreaded Ned (http: //www.dreadedned.com/): and the Men’s Club Publishing page, which aims “to promote the understanding of gay life of people in Thailand because this issue is very ysensitive and needs someone to guide the best way” (http: //www.chamon.com/'). The Rights of Women who Love Women: The Role of Academia and the Media. The Thai Lesbian Forum organised by Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, Anjaree and The Union of Civil Liberties in Thailand at the Siam City Hotel, Bangkok (Saturday 13 December, 1997).
72 Thanyalak’s conclusion, arguing that sexual topics are often marginalised within Thai academic research. At the same forum, Ajarn Chureetraporn from Chulalongkorn University pointed out that studies of homosexuality carried out by Thai researchers have been largely located in the field of behavioural psychology, and that Thai doctors continue to represent same-sex behaviour as a sickness. Peter Jackson’s research on Thai academic discourses on homosexuality (1997d) shows quite clearly this bias. Jackson identified two hundred and seven Thai-language publications (published between 1956 and 1994) dealing with male and female homosexuality and trans gender, the largest proportion of which had been conducted in the fields of medicine, psychology and education: only nine (less than 5 percent) of these articles could be described as gay-positive (1997b:55-6).
Several authors have focussed attention on female commercial sex work in Thailand (see, for example, Phongphaichit 1982; Hantrakul 1988; Ekachai 1990; Sittirak 1996; Phongphaichit et al. 1998; Bishop and Robinson 1998;). In contrast, male sex work has been, for the most part, absent from the research agenda and rarely appears in public discussion (Storer 1999a) except in the form of circumspect and discreet advertisements for ‘male gyms’ or ‘massage for men’ in ‘gay’ magazines or 8 tourist publications.
In general, I believe, male sex work has been effectively overshadowed by concerns about the larger and more visible female sex work industry. As in other parts of the world, the underlying assumptions of male sexuality that both maintain and constrain prostitution, particularly in relationship to male sex work, have been rarely questioned (cf. Browne and Minichiello 1995, 1996a; Davies and Simpson 1990). In Thailand, research on male sex work has tended to focus on individual issues, such as demographics and background of the sex workers; reasons for entering the work; sexual orientation and knowledge levels about HIV (see, for example, Kunawararak et al. 1995; Narvilai 1994a, 1994b;Sriwatjana 1995; Sittitrai et al. 1989, 1994). Less consideration has been given to contextual issues, such as the interactions between the
8 The scarceness of published research on male sex work is not confined to Thailand alone. Davies and Simpson suggest a number of reasons why male sex work has remained peripheral to research interest, not the least being that it “confounds those who regard (female) prostitution as a simple rehearsal of gender inequality” (1990:104).
73 sex workers, bar management and customers, and associated issues of power. As Browne and Minichiello (1996) note, what has been generally lacking in research on male sex work, is a challenge to the way in which sex work is socially constructed or a description of “the consequences of legal issues and policies on sex workers and their practice.”
As in other parts of the world, male sex work is situated within a larger political economy and is able to flourish in Bangkok (and in the other main centres of Thailand) precisely because there exists a large and complex ‘gay community’ which create various modes of work, such as massage services in gyms or free-lance work in discos (Hickson et al. 1994). And yet, knowledge of customers remains speculative; indeed, the customer is rarely considered in studies of commercial sex work, even though there have to be many more customers than sex workers for sex work to be economically viable (Hart & Whittaker 1994:267). One reason often cited for this absence is that recruitment of clients is more difficult than recruitment of workers. The clients of male commercial sex venues may not be open about their (homo) sexuality or about patronising the male sex trade. Additionally, bar managers of sex-for-sale venues are protective of their customers’ identities, lest they be scared off.9
While we can learn something about men who buy sex from men through interviews conducted with male sex workers (de Lind van Wijngaarden 1996; McCamish and Sittitrai 1997; Minichiello et al. 1999; Storer 1999a), first hand infor mation about customers is scarce, and usually based on hearsay. One early study of homosexual tourists in Pattaya (Wilke and Kleiber 1992) revealed that the majority of the men visited the resort primarily for sex and that condom use was inconsistent: of
9 Sexual risks taken by heterosexual tourists in Thailand have been addressed in several studies. Wilke and Kleiber (1992) reported that less than 50 percent of male heterosexual German tourists who had sex in foreign countries used condoms. (See also Kleiber and Wilke 1993). A second study of commercial sex workers in the south of Thailand, with predominantly Malaysian and Singaporean customers, found that only 24 percent of the workers reported always using a condom (Limanonda 1993). Mulhall et al. (1994) identified a group of young Australian travellers who were not ‘sex tourists’ (though the distinction was rather thin), but who were likely to have sex while travelling in Thailand and whose perception of personal risk was low. A third study of the interaction between Japanese female tourists and beach boys in Pattaya, Vorakitphokatorn et al. (1995) concluded that the Japanese women, were readily seduced and vulnerable, behaviour that could lead them to participate in high risk sex.
74 the 30 percent who reported receptive anal sex, only 82 percent said they always used condoms; of the 50 percent who reported insertive anal sex, only 68 percent said they always used a condom. 10
What I am leaning towards here is a broadening of the understandings of socio sexuality in Thailand to incorporate the various contexts of male-male sex. In the next section, I will further support this position by outlining ‘gaps’ in the research on homosexually active men and male sex work in Thailand.
Why focus attention on homosexually active men?
In chapter one I described the successes that can be directly attributed to the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign, highlighting the increase in condom use in brothel settings, the decrease in the frequency of visits to commercial sex workers, and a slowing down of HIV incidence rates (Brown et al. 1994; Mastro and Limpakarnjanarat 1995; Mason et al. 1995; Natpratan 1995; Nelson 1996; Beyrer et al. 1997; Nelson et al. 1999). However, it is now apparent that not all the behavioural changes attributed to the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign have been desirable. There is evidence, for example, to suggest that the condom has become an emblem of prostitution, and that there has been a proliferation of several forms of self-protection strategies, such as ‘carefully’ selecting establishments for commercial sex, or turning to indirect forms of commercial sex, like the karaoke bars or discos (Sittitrai and Brown 1994; Beesey 1996, 1997, 1998b;
For Phongpaichit, sex work and minor wives (mia noi), long familiar and accepted elements of Thai society, are by no means a creation of tourism; nevertheless, “commercial sex never came close to today’s scale until foreign demand for it soared in the mid-1980s” (1981:17). Cohen (1996), on the other hand, argues that the great majority of female sex workers still serve local Thai and Chinese clientele as well as Malaysians (who cross the Southern Thai border). It is, I believe, counter-productive to highlight or ignore either the indigenous or tourist-related commercial sex scene, and it is not my intent to problematise sex-tourism here. Rather, I want to highlight the role of international travel (both by Thais travelling abroad and by tourists to Thailand) in the transmission of HIV (Rouse 1993; Sittitrai and Brown 1994:S 148-149; van Kerkwijk 1992): among the initial cases of HIV infection in Europe, for example, most had a history of international travel; in England, more than half of the people with sexually transmitted HIV were assumed to have been infected in other countries (van Kerkwijk, 1992); in Japan, sero-typing of HIV strains detected both foreign nationals and Japanese men infected with Thai HIV genotype, two of whom were infected in Japan (Sittitrai and Brown 1994:S 148-149).
75 Lyttleton 1999). Interviews with taxi drivers in city locations “notorious for establish ments that provide sex for sale”, for example, reveal that passengers continue to seek out safe venues by asking the advice of the drivers (Vorakitphokatorn and Cash 1995:136). Further, 25 percent of the drivers said they felt sure they knew which venues were clean, equating high patronage with ‘cleanliness’. As Sittitrai and Brown report (1994:S 144-5):
[While] public knowledge of actual levels of HIV transmission modes is uniformly high... there are still high levels of beliefs in one or more casual transmission modes by which HIV infection is extremely unlikely, and many have interpreted the media AIDS messages as meaning that by avoiding membership of risk groups or contact with those at risk, one can remain free of AIDS.
While the research conducted on homosexually active men has been sketchy, what research has been conducted continues to report inconsistent condom use in repeated sexual contacts (Sittitrai et al. 1992; Sittitrai and Brown 1994; Sittitrai et al. 1994b; Beyrer 1995; Beyrer et al. 1995; Kunawararak et al. 1995; de Lind van Wijngaarden 1995a, 1995b; Thai Red Cross 1998; McCamish et al. 2000). Studies of male-male sex behaviours among Thai military recruits (thahaan) have shown that same sex encounters typically comprise just one portion of a larger sexual repertoire: only a minority of the homosexually active thahaan report having sex exclusively with other men, the majority being subsequently (or even concurrently) involved in one or more heterosexual relationships (Beyrer et al. 1995; Beyrer 1998; Jackson 1998; Nelson et al. 1998; Sittitrai et al. 1992, 1994b). In one cohort of 2047 recruits in northern Thailand, for example, 6.5 per cent reported one or more male sex partners (Beyrer et al. 1995). Compared with men who reported only female partners, the homosexually active thahaan had a higher number of female sex partners, had more female and male commercial partners, and were more likely to be married. But while reported rates of insertive anal intercourse with male partners was high, reported condom use was low. In addition, the overall rate of HIV infection among those thahaan who reported only female partners was 12.15 percent, compared with an HIV infection rate of 17.9 percent among the thahaan who were homosexually active (Beyrer 1995; Beyrer et al. 1995), a rate only slightly lower than the 20 percent HIV infection rate recorded for male sex workers in the north (Kuanawararak et al. 1995).
76 A second study of 157 homosexually active men in a north east urban setting (Sittitrai et al. 1992) reported high rates of partner exchange, complex sexual networks, and misunderstandings of HIV that could predispose the men to behavioural risk, namely extremely high levels of casual sex, extensive networks of sexual contacts, and inconsistent condom use in repeated sexual contacts (Sittitrai et al. 1992:19). Similar findings were reported in a study of homosexual desire in the northern city of Chiang Mai, in which public cruising spaces were described as the “most dangerous locations in terms of sexual-risk taking and... [those] probably least influenced by current prevention efforts” (de Lind van Wijngaarden 1995b: 12). Khun Thawat Chaimongkol (interviewed 17/11/98), who headed up a beats project in Chiang Mai (Prasaan Jai Rak Nong), reported that men in heterosexual relationships frequent the gay beats, either because they want to ‘try out’ a kathoey, or because they are lured by the promise of free sex (mai tong khai kan, khae ao). Khun Thawat reported further that drinking is usually part of the script and condom use continues to be irregular in these encounters.11
Research on male homosexuality in Thailand is hampered, in part, because a lack of clear terminology means that homosexual behaviours often go unnamed. A male who plays out the active role in sexual relations, for example, particularly when the sex involves an effeminate or transgender male, will not view his behaviour in terms of sexual orientation but in terms of meeting a physical need (Jackson 1995; Lyttleton 1995; Jackson and Sullivan 1999; Chan et al. 1998). Obviously, the hetero sexual-homosexual framework that has dominated HIV/AIDS research in the West is problematic here (see also chapter four) and, as in other parts of the Asia, homosexual behaviours “need to be set against the backcloth of strong family and community ex pectations to heterosexual norms” (Parker et al. 1999:332). Thus, disclosure of one’s homosexuality is difficult as it is seen to affect the family’s face (Storer 1999c). For many, marriage may be a protective mechanism against disclosure. Here Nit, a gay- identified Thai economist, described his relationship with a married man: I don’t interfere with his married life and he doesn ’t interfere with mine... But I don’t talk to him about going out like this [to the sauna], and he doesn’t ask (field notes 21/09/97).
11 Sadly, Khun Thawat died early in 1999. His dedication to working with young homosexually active men was unsurpassed. Societal biases and prejudices can also affect the reporting of male-male sex behaviours (Sittitrai et al. 1994b). Further, research shows that reports of same sex behaviour can vary considerably with data collection techniques (Beyrer 1995; McCamish et al. 2000) and are influenced not only by the type of questions asked, but also by who asks the questions. With the male sex workers, there is an even greater chance of under-reporting because of the high turnover of workers in the industry (McCamish and Sittitrai 1997) and because the lines from full-time to part-time, or from sex worker to companion, are temporal and fluid (McCamish 1997). Indeed, a number of authors (ten Brummelhuis 1993; Cohen 1987, 1996; McCamish 1997) have argued that Western models of prostitution are not necessarily pertinent to Thailand.12 Further, as described in chapter two, client-patron and trans-generational relations are pervasive and should not be necessarily viewed as commercial or as exploitive. It is not surprising therefore, given this complexity, that studies of Thai male sex workers have concentrated on singular issues rather than on behaviours and the contexts within which these behaviours occur (Storer 1999a, 1999c).
Though outward discrimination against homosexual behaviour is not prevalent in Thailand, as long as the behaviour is discreet (Sittitrai et al. 1991; Jackson 1995), tolerance does not equate with acceptance, and fear of public sanction remains (see chapter four). Pok, a 32 year-old sales clerk, reported travelling across Bangkok each Saturday evening to frequent a gay sauna that was as far as possible from friends. Pok is not alone in how he feels: I would like to be open but I cannot. There are many Thai men who can’t accept being gay... and who sneak out to the bars or saunas (field notes 12/04/96).
Sert, a 32-year old community youth worker and father of two sons, was a regular evening cruiser of the parks and the ‘porn’ cinemas frequented by homo- sexually-active men:
12 Cohen (1987, 1986) suggests that there is no crisp separation in Thai society between emotional and mercenary sexual relationships. Rather, he argues, such relationships form a spectrum from pre-marital to marital to extra-marital, through permanent or protracted liaisons between relatively wealthy men and poor mia noi (‘minor wife’), to short, commercialised sexual encounters in brothels and massage parlours (1996:251). This is, I believe, a simplistic interpretation that exoticises the Thai women and ignores (as I will argue in chapter seven) the role of intimacy in people’s lives.
78 I used to think that I was not gay, but now I know I am. But I can’t tell my wife. She could not accept it. Imagine if my sons knew that their father was like this. What would they think? They would probably be ashamed... I have to be very careful. Imagine if I got AIDS and infected my wife. Because we don’t use any protection when we have sex. We just do it. Sert, community worker (field notes 04/04/96)
What is significant here is that men who are bisexual and/or are not open about their homosexual behaviours, and who test positive for HIV infection, will typically assert that they got the virus from having sex with women, denying that they have had sex with other men. This fact hinders both data collection on HIV transmission and prevention campaigns. The issues may be further compounded by concerns about con fidentiality. A second problem is that men who are unable to openly acknowledge their same-sex behaviours may also be reluctant to seek information on HIV/AIDS and pre vention of STDs, or to seek appropriate medical services when required (Sittitrai et al. 1994b). This effect may be compounded for men who migrate from provincial settings to large cities, only to find themselves outside the peer support mechanisms that operate in their new communities.
People are different. In Bangkok, we know the people’s faces but we don’t know their hearts. I mean we can’t really trust each other {cheu-a theu kan mai dai). It’s different up-country. We know all about each other. We know our neighbours. We know their families. But in Bangkok, you can live close to gether but not know each other. People do their own thing. You can’t really trust anyone. Pat, free-lance sex worker (IDI 03/10/96)
Sittitrai et al. (1994b) suggest further that isolation of this kind can result in an increased chance of sexual risk behaviour when the individual finds himself thrown into homosexual encounters characterised by anonymous and fleeting contacts that lack emotional attachment. The absence of emotional affection may, in turn, inhibit the negotiation of safer sex practices, especially when one of the partners, desiring the contact, ‘seduces’ his partner with sexual favours (McCamish et al. 2000). Moreover, the prevalence of bisexual behaviours in Thailand points to complex and inter connected sexual networks.
79 Sentinel studies show that the Thai male sex worker is at high risk of HIV in fection. Kunawararak et al. (1994), for example, showed levels of infection at 20 percent among male sex workers in northern Thailand. Chris Beyrer (1998:172) underscores the problem: in the period 1989 to 1995, a regular twelve per cent per year of male sex workers in northern Thailand “were getting HIV. This was in addition to the twenty percent of men who were already positive on any cross-sectional look, making gay bar work about as deadly an occupation as one can imagine.” Thai MoPH sero-surveillance data in the other three provinces where the male commercial sex industry is well established showed an HIV prevalence of 21 percent in the south (which includes the Phuket Island holiday resort); 16.75 percent in Cholburi (which includes the Pattaya resort); and 16.75 percent in the central region (Rujivipat et al. 1997). Apart from bar workers, no data on sero-prevalence among homosexually active men are available but, as Sittitrai and Brown (1994:S 150) warn, the lack of in formation about men who have sex with men should not be understood as a lack of a problem. 13
What the epidemiological data for the male sex workers fail to distinguish is how the men were infected: were they infected primarily during commercial or non commercial encounters? Were these encounters heterosexual or homosexual? Were they with Thais or non-Thais? One study on the molecular epidemiology of HIV among commercial sex workers in northern Thailand is of interest in that it reveals that only one of seventeen HIV-infected male sex workers had been infected with HIV subtype B (the strain more likely transmitted by infected farcing customers) though twelve of the seventeen reported sex with farang (Beyrer et al. 1997). Qualitative data show that recreational sex encounters for Thai male sex workers can include male and female partners, ‘wives’ and other sex workers, and that even where there is a safe sex culture in the commercial venues, this sometimes breaks down outside the workplace (McCamish 1990; McCamish and Sittitrai 1997; McCamish et al. 2000; Storer 1999a), a finding consistent with research that shows that sexual contexts (for example, Bajos
13 In the joint publication, McCamish et al (2000), we postulated that the subsumption of male-male sex with male sex work reflected “the real difficulty in reaching homosexually active men whose risks and infection levels remain hidden, or worse, are closeted in the heterosexual statistics” (emphasis in original). Further, the low rate of infection among ‘gay’ men (as indicated by the MoPH statistics) may have given rise to complacency among the general population of homosexually active men.
80 1997; Kippax et al. 1993, 1995) and relational bonds (for example, Morris et al. 1994; Pyett and Warr 1997) mediate decisions about safe sex. Further, anecdotal reports from sex workers in Chiang Mai (de Lind van Wijngaarden 1996), Pattaya (McCamish and Sittitrai 1997) and Bangkok (Storer 1999a) suggest that Thais are more likely than farang customers to insist on anal intercourse with male sex workers and are less likely to wish to use condoms (McCamish et al. 2000).
I have argued thus far that there has been under-reporting of male-male sex behaviours, in part because of a reluctance to bring homosexuality into the public pur view and, in part, because fears of public sanction mean that many men conceal their homosexuality from their family and workmates. In the next section I will further illustrate the complexities of male-male sexual contexts by developing a taxonomy of sites where recruitment of male sex services can occur. I will then develop a social network map for male sex workers and their customers. In so doing, I will demonstrate that the sexual and social networks for Thai male bar workers and their customers intersect and overlap with those for other groups of homosexually active men and with heterosexual populations.
Finding the man
Recruiting male commercial sex in Bangkok
In Thailand, the male sex industry is extensive in the four major cities of Bangkok, Chiang Mai, Pattaya and Phuket with a variety of informal (free-lance) and formal (managed through commercial outlets) sites. In Bangkok, free-lance workers are found walking the streets (Narvilai 1994; Poshyachinda and Danthamrongkul 1996) or cruising the parks, shopping centres, discos, cinemas and other sites frequented by homosexually active men who come from all walks of life - motorbike taxi drivers, construction workers, government officials, teachers, bank clerks and kathoey (Narvilai 1994a, 1994b; Jackson 1997a, 1997b; Storer 1998b). In addition, numerous commercial venues are located throughout the city (Allyn 1991; Jackson 1995; Bangkok Rainbow Play Map 1998; Allyn and Chaiyana 1999). These include go-go bars, saunas and gyms providing massage services, karaoke bars, male escort
81 agencies and clubs that offer a range of services, one of which may be commercial sex
(Storer 1999a, 1999d). Brad, a long-term resident of Bangkok explains:
Now there are these gay club type and restaurant atmosphere venues. There’s a social, community, gay, family environment, where commercial sex is a-ah is an option but not a requirement, nor necessarily an expectation by the owners. Brad, customer (IDI 19/08/97)
The overriding characteristic of the ‘managed’ sites is that the customer must pay an off fee (khaa off) to the bar operators in order to access the services of the worker (McCamish et al. 2000). This fee (usually 200 to 300 baht) is independent of what transpires between a worker and customer, and is in addition to the ‘tip’ the customer pays to the worker for his services. Once the khaa off is paid, the worker is effectively released from the establishment until the following day (McCamish and
Sittitrai 1997; McCamish 1999; McCamish et al. 2000). The managed sites may be further subdivided into those where access to sexual services is the primary purpose, or those where commercial sex is an option but not...necessarily an expectation. These latter venues include restaurants or karaoke bars, for example, where the waiters can be taken off
Table 3.1 Sites where sexual recruitment of male sex workers can occur in Bangkok
Managed commercial venues Free-lance sites
{off fee paid to management) (no off fee)
Sex is the primary Sex is an adjunct Establishments Open spaces service service
go-go bars Hotels pubs and discos Streets
bars/pubs cocktail lounges saunas parks
massage parlours ‘coffee’ shops karaoke bars
escort agencies karaoke bars ‘porn’ cinemas
call boy services shopping centres
snooker halls
restaurants
(adapted from McCamish, Storer and Carl 2000)
82 Obviously, the distinction between managed and free-lance sex work is not tidy: many of the sites differ in name only (such as the escort agencies and call boy services); others share the same name but make available different services. Some saunas, for example, provide a sex-on-premises venue for homosexually active men, while some provide commercial sex services. Others afford both. Similarly, both commercial and non-commercial sexual encounters are played out in the ‘porn’ cinemas. This complexity is summarised in Table 3.1:
The taxonomy developed here shows the diversity of the sites where sexual recruitment occurs. In the next section I shall identify the interactions across these sites and their intersection with other homosexual and with heterosexual sites.
Sexual networks for homosexually active men
Thai male sex workers appear to be far more mobile than their female counter parts, for whom there are fewer alternative viable employment opportunities. A study of male sex workers and their customers in Bangkok and Pattaya (McCamish et al. 2000) identified the ready mobility of male bar workers in and out of sex work and across different bars, a finding consistent with reports by Sittitrai et al. (1994a) which showed that the average stop for a worker at a bar was little more than two months. As Sam explained, moving from bar to bar allows a worker to capitalise on the fact that customers like to plian rot chaat (‘change flavours’) and seek out new talent. Jan de Lind van Wijngaarden’s study of male bar workers in Chiang Mai (1996) showed that a new worker is more likely to be taken off than one who has been in the bar for a while. (Cf. McCamish and Sittitrai’s (1997:24) study of male sex work in Pattaya).
Ask any of the boys. They will have worked in at least five different bars. Because the boys change bars often. If you’ve worked in a place for a while, no one will take you off any more. So you move, and become a new boy at another bar. Like me at the Mandrake bar, I was an old boy there. But when I went to Neon, I was a new boy again. The customers thought, ‘someone new’, and took me off (maa mai, ao). As soon as I was old there, I moved to Joe’s. The customers thought I was new, ao. Sam, bar worker, (IDI 23/01/96)
83 By shifting sites, Sam was able to maintain a high income. Other workers establish other reasons for moving. They may shift bars out of boredom, or even move between towns for a break; Tui, a long-time worker at Joe’s bar, described how he would get away for a change of scene: Sometimes when I want to get away for a few days I’ll go down to Pattaya and work in one of the bars where I used to work before (field notes; 13/01/98). Similarly, Jao began working in a suburban bar in Bangkok, before moving to a bar in Pattaya, and then back to Bangkok, where he worked as a masseur in a men’s club (IDI 23/01/95). Others work different sites concurrently, and it is not uncommon for bar workers to cruise the discos or streets after the bars close or the department stores during the day, especially if they have not been off for a few days, or when rent or other payments are due. Joh, for example, worked during the day as a welder in a family business. He would also moonlight the Phantom bar when payments were due on his motorbike (IDI 23/07/97).
Some men move in and out of sex work to travel back home for festivals or the planting and harvest season (Sittitrai et al. 1994a; McCamish and Sittitrai 1997). Their return to sex work is often accompanied by a change in bar. Maen stepped out of sex work for nearly two years when he moved in with one of his customers, an Australian working in Bangkok. During this period, he attended night classes to complete his high school diploma. When the Thai economy collapsed, the Australian was sent home and Maen returned to bar work: But not to the same bar, as that would have entailed a loss of face (naa ai) with his former co-workers (field notes 17/11/98).
For other men, sex work is occasional and provides an opportunity to supplement their earnings. Mitr had his own small trading business in Bangkok, but his business was affected by the economic downturn: the money is not turning round and I can’t meet expenses. A friend told me about cruising [the park]. So here I am (field notes; 15/02/97). Others move to the margins of the industry. Bar staff and waiters are generally recruited from among ex-bar workers, and while their present employment is not primarily associated with sex work, many can still be taken off (though the off fee is generally higher for a waiter than it is for a bar worker).
84 Customers, too, do not confine themselves to any specific site in their search for commercial sex. Here Len, an expatriate who worked on the outskirts of Bangkok, describes a typical night out with the boys:
I like to make a night of it, so I check into the Toreador Hotel. If I get there in the afternoon I can usually pick up a boy hanging out in the coffee shop. Later, I’ll catch up with friends, go out for dinner, and then hit the bars. If I don’t find anything I like in the bars, then I can always get another trick in the coffee shop when I get back. Len, resident in Bangkok, (IDI 16/12/95)
Len is describing here the variety in his commercial encounters. Toi, a Thai designer, was also in pursuit of variety but open to the possibility of either commercial or non-commercial sex. Here he refers to the bars as well as to cruising a cinema and park:
I used to go to the disco nearly every night and to the saunas, but I’m too old now. Sometimes I go to the go-go bars in Bangkok, or Pattaya when we go down for the weekend... I also go to the Body Bay for a massage, and if I have nothing to do on the weekend and feel bored, I’ll cruise the cinema or the park. Toi, gay Thai man (field notes 18/05/96)
Thus, it is not uncommon for customers, even in the same day, to move between commercial and non-commercial sexual partners: John, an American tourist (IDI 14/05/98), reported beginning his evening at the Babylon sauna, before going on to dinner with friends and then to the bars. Joh, a Thai engineer, would go to a club for a massage before going off to the disco in time for the nightly drag show: Then I can just have fun at the disco with my friends and not feel I have to meet someone for the night (field notes 01/12/96).
These examples illustrate the mobility of both workers and customers across all the organised and free-lance sexual sites. What has been overlooked is the fact that bar workers also have personal lives. Men like Nath, for example, married and supporting two children (IDI 26/01/97), maintain long-term relationships. Toon, who lived with his boyfriend, a factory supervisor, reported that relationships among co workers are not uncommon: there are boys in the [Neon] bar who are lovers... two couples, three couples if you include the owner and one of the kaptan (IDI 18/12/95).
85 Sex workers are also involved in casual and recreational sexual encounters, which may be non-commercial or involve the worker in the role of client to another sex worker, male or female. Thus, in addition to their customers, workers will have regular and casual, male and female, Thai and foreign sexual partners.
Customers also range widely in their patterns of sexual partner. Paul, a regular visitor to Thailand, frequented male sex worker bars in both New York and Thailand (field notes 07/02/97). John, Len and Brian reported commercial sexual encounters in a number of countries (field notes 14/05/98). Unlike the majority of workers, who identify as ‘non-gay’, the majority of customers do identify as ‘gay’ and so hetero sexual choices are less frequent, though it is not uncommon to see farang single women, or bisexual couples taking a worker off from the bars. Thai women (often mi nor wives or those whose ‘husbands’ are working out of the country) are also to be found in the bars, though some bars attempt to discourage women. Joe’s bar, for in stance, charges a higher cover charge for women customers than for men.
Figure 3.1 indicates that the sexual networks of both customers and workers are complex and interconnected, with the bar workers readily moving across hetero sexual and homosexual milieus. McCamish et al. (2000) argue that this inter connectivity suggests that interventions directed at male bar workers could potentially have an impact on both Thai and non-Thai homosexually active men both in the bars and at other sites other. In the next section, I will turn a discussion of the interventions that have been directed towards men who have sex with men to date.
86 0 ® c 1 non-commen
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c Map 3 o o 3.1
£ 3 O D) il Working with homosexually active men: what has been done
No continuous interventions have been directed towards homosexually active
men or male sex workers in Thailand.14 The earliest reported cases of AIDS in
Thailand were predominantly among homosexually active men (Traisupa et al. 1987).
This ‘fact’ was well publicised in the Thai media and “fed a public perception of AIDS
as homosexual/bisexual disease” (Sittitrai and Brown 1994). It also served to deflect
attention away from heterosexual risk behaviours and, perhaps, inadvertently delayed
the response to heterosexual modes of transmission. A number of interventions were
subsequently started in gay bars by organizations like the Thai Red Cross, the
Fraternity for AIDS Cessation in Thailand (FACT) and a Gay Entrepreneurs
Association (GEAT), and attempts were made to inform homosexually active men of
the risk of HIV infection (Chan et al. 1998; Sittitrai and Roddy 1989; Sittitrai et al.
1989; Sittitrai et al. 1994a; Teerarojjanapongs 1993). However, when attention shifted to female commercial sex workers and their customers, homosexually active men
received less attention in the Thai national program (Sittitrai and Brown 1994). While studies have been conducted among populations of male sex workers in Thailand, no continuous interventions have been conducted with male sex workers, or among populations of homosexually active men. In addition, there has been no systematic tracking of HIV sero-prevalence among this population group (McCamish et al. 2000).
FACT was formed in 1989 and used dance performance to present HIV prevention messages to both male and female sex workers (Hodgin 1991; Rouse 1993;
Teerarojjanapongs 1993). FACT also established a social group for homosexually active men, ‘FACT Friends’, and began monthly social meetings, with the group becoming a volunteer reserve for FACT’S AIDS prevention projects. A monthly newsletter was also produced to disseminate information on HIV/AIDS prevention and other issues concerning homosexually active populations in Thailand (McCamish et al.
2000). Over the years, however, FACT spread its operations too thin by opening branch chapters in the North and Northeast and targeting populations other than
14 Parker et al. (1998:337) argue that while there are several published studies of homosexual and bisexual behaviours in Thailand, “references to Thai prevention programs are almost entirely non-existent whether as published reports or conference presentations.”
88 homosexually active men (Chiemcharoen 1995) and much of the public attention FACT once received has now faded.
GEAT, also established in 1989, was made up of Bangkok’s gay bar owners, and dealt with issues of mutual business interest, from exchanging information on problematic workers and customers to negotiating with government officials. However, GEAT faded away when government and non-government agencies working to prevent HIV infection shifted attention away from homosexually active men and male sex workers to female sex workers and their customers, though a few of the organization’s more active members have continued to provide in-house HIV/AIDS programming (McCamish et al. 2000).
A third group, Chai Chuay Chai (men helping men) in Chiang Mai, was “based on the concept of a sex workers’ group which would train men working in the industry to be peer educators” (Beyrer 1998:173). However, as Prue Borthwick (1999) remarks the group faltered when it began to target other homosexually active men, perhaps because the target population became less clearly defined and because the intervention ‘needs’ were not identified locally, that is, by homosexually active men themselves. A premise of the Chai Chuay Chai project was that it would be possible to develop a sense of ‘pride’ and solidarity within the population group (de Lind van Wijngaarden 1995a, 1995b). But as indicated above, emphasising sexual identity (rather than sexual behaviour) is problematic and it was not apparent that identity was a concern of the target population (McCamish et al. 2000).
Two questions emerge from these examples: first, is it possible to target inter ventions where there are no common interests or no shared sense of identity?; and second, can prevention programs be sustainable when the needs are not defined and perceived locally? I will examine these two questions further by looking at examples of‘successful’ health promotion campaigns.
In an UNAIDS-sponsored colloquium entitled ‘Best Practices: Sex Workers’ at the Fourth International Congress on AIDS in Asia and the Pacific (1997), five projects targeting commercial sex workers in Asia reported on their work. What was most remarkable about this colloquium was that female sex workers gave the reports,
89 all but one speaking through an interpreter. The women talked about the project activities and the roles they were playing, and provided an evaluation of the inter vention. They called for safer work conditions in environments that promote health management and which are free of harassment. Their message was eloquent and clear; best practices are found in projects that actively involve the target group in the identification of needs, design and delivery, and evaluation, and which engage the target population in decision making about their lives.
Unfortunately, best practices was not a dominant theme at the conference. All of the projects represented in the colloquium were female sex worker projects, with only one of the speakers referring to male sex work. In another session, ‘Sex Workers and HIV’, only one of the six presenters referenced male sex work. Sex workers were notably absent from this session. The silence around male sex work was indicative of the conference program itself and papers on male sex work were largely consigned to poster sessions or tucked away into the all-too-nebulous category MSM (men who have sex with men). It seems that male sex work remains conflated with female sex work.
In concluding this section, I note that interventions directed at Thai male bar workers have tended to focus attention on the high profile ‘tourist’ bars located in the inner city. More recently a Thai NGO, the Life and Hope Club, has initiated a bar- based intervention that will focus on male sex workers operating in the suburban bars in Bangkok (Smithsuwan 1999).15 The one-year project aims to work with male sex workers in twenty suburban bars in the Sukhumvit and Saphan Kwai areas, with one visit scheduled for each bar over the year. Follow-up visits are contingent on longer- term funding (Toh 1999).
15 Telephone interview with Khun Ittirak Smithsuwan, who heads up the Life and Hope Club (field notes 02/07/99): each bar intervention is designed to generate questions among the workers, though as Khun Ittirak noted, these are usually raised after the session is over and not in the large group and have included, for example, inquiries about oral sex and associated risk of HIV infection. Ittirak also noted the desirability factor in talking to bar workers - the men will all say that they use condoms every time but later in private will discuss STD infections or disclose their HIV+ positive status.
90 During the course of the research, I observed that there were, in general, no HIV promotional materials on display in the various gay venues (including the male commercial sex venues). An exception has been the Babylon sauna where safe sex posters are prominently displayed, though these are all ‘imports’ from Western countries and not written in Thai. That is, homoerotic desire is encoded and glamorised on Western bodies; the Asian male body and, more significantly, the Thai language are erased from this imaging.
Concluding remarks
I have argued in this chapter that stereotypes, which link assumptions of wide spread patronage of female prostitution with normative Thai male behaviour, have been constructed on images of the Thai male “as an inveterate profligate” (Lyttleton 1995:189). This presumption of heterosexual masculinity excludes male-male sex behaviours. As a consequence, Thai male sex workers and homosexually active men have had to respond to and ascribe meanings to HIV/AIDS campaigns largely directed at the family man or heterosexually active youth.
As Gagnon (1988) notes, the notion of examining sexuality from the perspective of AIDS rather than AIDS from the perspective of sexuality has had a profound influence on the construction of most research on sexual activity. The former approach tends to conceptualise and explain sexual activity as risk taking and “can privilege one understanding of the general population or of specific groups particularly exposed to risk of HIV infection” whereas the latter aims to understand the structure and social and behavioural organization of sexual activity (Giami and Dowsett 1996:S 192). Sittitrai and Brown (1994:S 143) argue that, the initial focus placed on risk groups meant that Thais engaging in risk behaviours merely denied their membership of these groups and which, in turn, diverted attention from the true levels of HIV risk behaviour in the Thai population.
The HIV sero-prevalence data available for homosexually active men, compiled from figures supplied by STD out-patient clinics and MoPH sero- surveillance data, do not reveal the complexity and extent of cross-over between
91 homosexual and heterosexual networks or that male-male sex is common. This omission of homosexuality and male sex work from both government and public discourses in Thailand is significant, for as Deborah Lupton notes:
[Government tactics of health promotion and public health may have much to offer those who possess the appropriate economic capital or symbolic capital, [but] for others, their inducements will go unheeded or will be transformed or actively contested. If people do no find themselves interpellated by government discourses, if they do not recognise themselves therein or have no investment in these discourses, they will not respond accordingly. Lupton (1995:131)
Safe sex education should primarily be a public health issue and require “that we look at sexual practices and sexuality as discursive parts of identity” (Nelson 1994:285-6). This thesis will argue for a shift in the Thai response to HIV/AIDS. Such a shift would necessitate a challenge to the familiar and comfortable constructions of sexuality and ‘family values’, and view HIV within contexts of sexuality (rather than vice versa; Dowsett 1997). It would also concede that sex workers maintain private lives outside the workplace and that these may involve long-term relationships that include children. Such a shift would render public what is normally private and beyond public scrutiny, for safe sex education necessarily divulges that which has virtually always been unspoken in public, thereby opening up discursive sites and cultural norms to be challenged, transgressed and reworked.
92 four
Performing and Resisting Masculinity
They’re not all effeminate either, some of them are really manly and you’d never dream they were queer. Not from the look of them. But I can always tell because they all got LPs of Judy Garland. That’s the big give-away. Joe Orton (in J Lahr, The Orton Diaries, 1989:11)
I had my first sexual experience with a man when I started working at the sauna. Since then, I’ve only been sexually active with men... But it is not that I will never go with a woman again. I don't think about if I’m gay or not gay. If I meet someone I want to live with, then I will - a man or woman. Sith, former sex worker (IDI 21/01/95)
Sexual difference and the Thai context
In the previous chapter, I pointed to a general reticence to openly discuss homosexual behaviours in South East Asian cultures (Sittitrai et al. 1991, 1992), and I described how homosexuality has been largely muted in the Thai HIV/AIDS cam paign and in the discourses surrounding HIV/AIDS (Lyttleton 1996). My intention in this chapter is to further explore the silences surrounding homosexuality in Thailand. In so doing, I will seek an understanding of how gender and sexuality is ‘done’ in Thai social contexts and the manner in which identity maintenance affects behavioural norms and group identification.
93 As noted in chapter one, my interest in exploring representations of gender and sexuality was prompted in part by the proliferation of gay owned and operated venues in Thailand and the growing appeal of Thailand as a destination for international gay travellers (Allyn 1991; Raymond 1997; Jackson and Sullivan 1999). On the surface at least, Thailand appears to demonstrate a degree of tolerance towards sexual minorities not apparent in many other countries: kathoey are a common sight, lesbian lovers walk hand-in-hand, and cross-dressers are regularly featured on television game and talk shows (Rattachumpoth 1999). It is widely known, for example, that one of Bangkok’s top models, Ornapra Kritsadee, is a kathoey. So is the singer Choenchoen Boonsong-ngern and her song Nee Kheu Acheep Khorng Chan (This Is My Profession) became a ‘hit’ both in drag shows and on Thai radio stations.
But while Thais turn a blind eye to homosexual lifestyles and gay and lesbian issues, Rakkit Rattachumpoth asserts that this is a public face only and “compulsory heterosexuality is at the core of Thai social norms” (1999:xxii). As in other parts of Asia, strong family and community expectations fashion homosexual behaviours and their presentation in Thai contexts (Parker et al. 1998). Than, a gay-identified man from Udorn Thani in Isaan would visit Bangkok to ‘be himself. But back home he was more cautious (field notes 24/11/97): As long as I keep my job and take care of myself as well as fulfilling my family obligations when called on, I’m left pretty much to myself - no one interferes in my life. But I can’t be too out. Throughout the course of the research, I met a number of men like Than at ‘gay’ venues in Bangkok, men who described themselves as gay but who said they were not open about their homosexuality, except among the friends with whom they mixed socially. Tom, a marketing executive, described it thus:
Thais are selective about whom they come out to and it is unusual for a Thai man to be out in the workplace. Most separate their lives, building up a net work of gay friends whom they meet in gay places. Tom, gay-identified Thai man (field notes 09/07/98)
My interest in gender/sexuality in Thailand was further stimulated by demo graphic studies of Thai male sex workers, which highlight that the majority of the workers do not gay identify, are behaviourally bisexual, and compartmentalise their commercial and recreational encounters (Nopkesorn et al. 1991; Sittitrai et al. 1992;
94 Kunawararak et al. 1995; Narvilai 1994a, 1994b; Sriwatjana 1995; Beyrer 1998). Such findings prompted me to ask what relevance terms like ‘gay’ and ‘gay identity’ might have within the context of same-sex relationships (Storer 1999c).
Despite the fact that there has been considerable interest and social research into identity in recent years, the relationship between identity and language is still un clear (Sarangi and Baynham 1996:78), and in this chapter I will be concerned with the constitutive and regulatory effects of discourse on identity. I begin with two premises central to this work: namely that gender and sexuality are performative and negotiated activities (Butler 1990; Ginsburg and Tsing 1990); and that gender and sexuality are contingent and context specific (Esterik 1999).
In the first part of this chapter, I will look to the themes of acceptance and toleration. I will then turn to difficulties associated with naming homoerotic desire, by examining the stereotypes that characterise Thai discourses about ‘gay’ and ‘lesbian’ behaviours. I will argue that gay identification in Thailand is constrained in part by a traditional masculine-feminine gender opposition1 and in part by a concern with maintaining a public face of ‘appropriate’ behaviour. I will also contend that Thai society is tolerant rather than accepting of homosexuality. I will next examine how some Thai men and women are contesting and resisting hetero-normative categories and establishing their own understandings of what it means to be gay or lesbian. I will then look more specifically at how certain Thai academic discourses have construed the male sex worker as deviant, while largely ignoring the way that sex work is economically and politically structured. Finally, I will interrogate the relevance of the notions of‘gay community’ and community attachment’ to Thai homosexually active men and women. In so doing, I will caution against the uncritical application of Western understandings of community to Thai contexts and argue instead for an awareness of multiple communities made up of overlapping and interacting networks (as indicated in the sexual network map elaborated in chapter three, Fig. 3.1).
For a full discussion of the different elements condensed into the notion of a sexual identity in addition to the binary calculus of the male-female opposition, see Sedgewick (1993:4-7).
95 A pragmatic view of sexuality
[I]t’s not that other cultures are more casual about homosexual acts, merely that they police them differently. Adam Mars-Jones (1995:13)
Peter Jackson (1997c), tracing the historical development of Thai psycho logical and biomedical accounts of gender and sexuality from the 1950s to the present, describes how three forms of sexed and gendered beings have historically demarcated local Thai discourses: namely, normative masculine men (phoochai), feminine women (phooying), and an intermediary category (kathoey). In recent years, however, a complex range of new male, female and transgender terms have emerged in local discourses (Jackson and Sullivan 1999; de Lind van Wijngaarden 1996, 1999; Sinnott 1999; Storer 1999c), including tom (from tomboy for ‘masculine’ women) and dee (their feminine partners); seu-a bai (bisexual men or ‘bi-tigers’); queen and king; and kathoey plaeng phet (transsexuals). However, Jackson (1996, 1997a) points out that the distinction between gender identity and sexual identity has little relevance within Thai discourses. Rather, a single expression - ekkalakphet - melds sexual difference (male-female), gender difference (masculine-feminine) and sexuality (heterosexual- homosexual). Further, gay and kathoey are not distinguished as categories of sexuality and gender respectively.
In Thailand, trans-gender homosexuality is institutionalised in the kathoey, who are readily visible in Thai life. Living in Thailand, I took note of the two young male shop assistants wearing a brush of eye shadow. I was intrigued by the young man who sold me stamps in my local post office and, who over the course of a year grew out his hair, began wearing lipstick and blush, and developed breasts. And I was definitely surprised by the kick boxer, Parinya Khiatbhusaba (Nong Toom), who arrived on the Bangkok fight scene wearing make-up, lipstick, and a hair band (described elsewhere, Storer 1999c).
But while the ubiquitous presence of the kathoey suggests, at first glance at least, a challenge to the traditional male-female opposition, unspoken rules govern the kathoey 's behaviour. Thus, the male kathoey is expected to adopt traditional forms of
96 address reserved for women (such as the first person pronoun chan instead of phom, or the sentence particle kha instead of khrap), dress in female clothing, and generally perform femininity. In addition, the kathoey are named by themselves and other Thais as the ‘second type of women’ {phooying praphet sorng). That is, the kathoey may have access to the female domain, but they are relegated to an inferior position in that domain. They are, symbolically at least, emasculated.2 3Viewed in this way, the positioning of the kathoey as ‘second type of women’ is, in fact, a technique that serves to reinforce rather than unsettle the traditional gender complementarity. As Murray (1992:30) argues, “[the kathoey] in their widely-recognised womanly- inferiority, visibly reinforce gender stratification and perpetuate men’s fear of seeming effeminate.” Morris (1994:36-37) describes it thus: what at first seem to be tolerance and the open acceptance of kathoey may be merely a preservation of social order through the value dualism of naa (face) and kreng jai (consideration and
•5 presentation of appropriate respect). Here Pom, an occasional cross-dresser, describes this complicity of silence:
It seems like Thai society accepts. But I don’t think they do. I think they are beginning to now but I still have to be careful. I can’t be over. It’s like there are rules that I have to follow. But really, Thai society is not that accepting. They don’t show it but it’s in their hearts (mai sadaeng ork - yoo nai jai maak kwaa). And I don’t show them how I feel either. Pom, gay-identified Thai man (IDI, 28/11/95)
2 Consider the following announcement reported in Spectrum (1998:20): Thailand’s Military announced December 17 that transsexuals who used to be men will be exempt from the draft because they cause “turmoil” among the troops. “It is not that we are resorting to discrimination,” said Major General Banjob Supawang. “These people really belong in beauty parlours, movies, studios or bars.” Michael Tan observes a “patronising” tolerance of the Filipino transvestite; the bakla, “is tolerated only as long as he remains confined in certain professions” like hairdressing (1995:33); “You cannot be a Senator and bahkla, or a cardinal and openly bahkla. But that’s not to say there aren’t bahklas among the clergy or politicians” (interviewed in Withers 1997:55). Ironically, it is this naming of the kathoey as Other which allows Thai men to measure their masculinity (Jackson, 1995). 3 Morris describes kreng jai as the “ubiquitous and obligatory expression of deference” and implying “the presentation of a mask and the veiling of felt emotion through public displays of agreeability.” The term naa means face or front and also connotes honour and propriety; “naa is not a representation of subjectivity but a presentation of public order” (Morris 1994:36, original emphasis). Also of relevance here is the work of Ajarn Suntaree Komin (1990) on the Thai value system in which she underscores the importance of maintaining “smooth interpersonal relations”, that is, of avoiding conflict.
97 To engage in sex with a kathoey does not imply that one adopts a homosexual identity (Sittitrai et al. 1992; Beyrer et al. 1995) as ultimately it is the role one plays sexually which demarcates one’s sexual/gender identity. In the traditional Thai scheme of things, a ‘real man’ (phoochai tem tua) generally maintains his masculinity in homosexual encounters as long as he performs a ‘male’ role, and the homosexuality of an effeminate man is taken for granted (Chan et al. 1998; De Lind van Wijngaarden 1995b, 1996; Murray 1992). This is a pragmatic view of sexuality - the sexual relationship takes place in a ‘homosexual’ context but it satisfies a ‘heterosexual’ need - in which social appearance is well scripted and where supposed sexual behaviour, as can be read from one’s social appearance, is fixed. The presumption remains, however, that masculinity and male homosexuality cannot coexist.
As in other parts of the world, anal intercourse remains a benchmark of ‘the homosexual’ (Allyn 1992:9) and it would be taboo for a man to admit to being anally penetrated as it would directly affect his social representation (notwithstanding what actually takes place behind closed doors). Maintaining image (phaap-phot) and not ‘losing face’ (sia naa) are paramount here and ‘real’ men uphold their masculinity by acting out masculine roles. In this manner, identity, as manifested in public appearances and behaviours, is readily separated from private practice (Morris 1994), and there is a definite restraint in naming oneself as one’s sexuality (Storer 1999c).
In this first section I have questioned the apparent ease with which kathoey are able to move about in Thai society in order to challenge any surface impressions of Thailand as a haven for sexual minorities. I also wanted to suspend at the outset any preconceived (Western) notions of sexuality: there is no “tidy partition of‘nature’ and ‘culture’, or sex versus gender... since each culture posits its own definition of what is natural or social” (Herdt 1994:xiii). In the next section I will explore in more detail the stereotypes that pervade the discourses surrounding homosexual behaviours in Thailand (see Rattachumpoth 1999:xviii).
98 Doing the right thing
I’ve met a young woman of impressive smiles. I have the right to think, the right to love, don’t I, when my heart thinks? ...How can you say I’m wrong? ...I don’t understand. Who set the rules? ‘Not Wrong’ (pop song released by Anchalee Jongkadeekit 1985)
Thailand has long had an image of being a tolerant society, and one in which lesbians and gay men are able to live without the fear of being publicly attacked or ridiculed. Weerasit Sittitrai et al. (1991, 1992), for example, argue that outward dis crimination against homosexual behaviour is not prevalent in Thailand, as long as the behaviour remains discreet. But as Rakkit Rattachumpoth (1999) points out, while anti-homosexual discrimination has never been institutionalised, it has long been practised in the discursive domain.
In late December 1996, the Rajabhat Teachers Institute announced that homosexual students would be banned from enrolling in courses leading to degrees in kindergarten and primary school teaching (Jackson 1997b; Matzner 1999; Storer 1999c). This ban had apparently been in force, albeit on a limited basis since 1993, but in January 1997 the Rajabhat Institute announced that the ban would be formalised and extended to all campuses from the beginning of the 1997 academic year (Rattachumpoth 1997).4 The announcement was quickly endorsed by the then Minister of Education, who argued that people of “wrong sexual orientation” could not provide “good” role models for Thai children (quoted in Rattachumpoth 1997:C1). The ban was rescinded in September 1997, after a cabinet reshuffle saw the appointment of a new Minister, but not before there had been considerable public debate and a flurry of activity in the local Thai and English language press (Storer 1999b).5
4 According to a report in the English-language newspaper The Nation (1997a) the ban was apparently prompted by the death of a Chiang Mai University student, who had been murdered “by a gay man in a fit of jealous rage” (reported in The Nation, ‘Gay lecturer plans ^roup to help men’, January 31, 1997). 5 See, for examples: Alongkorn Parivudhiphongs, ‘The kathoey connection’, Bangkok Post:, Outlook Section, Thursday March 13, 1997, p. 1.; Rakkit Rattachumpoth, ‘Untitled’, The Nation, Focus Section, 13 February 1997; Sirikul Bunnag, ‘Education college lifts its ban on gay entrants - regulations relaxed after NGO pressure’, Bangkok Post, 11 September, 1997, p. 2.; Worathep Na Banglampu, Untitled, The Nation, Focus Section, 13 February, 1997; The
99 The debate was characterised by two competing discourses. For the pro ponents of the ban, the over-riding concern was that teachers are accorded substantial respect in Thai society (Jackson 1997d) and thus wield considerable influence. They argued that the issue was not about ‘constitutional violation’ but about ‘role models’ and ‘right behaviour’. On the other hand, those who opposed the ban framed their discourse in terms of human rights and discrimination. Until recently, Thai media and academic discourses have typically described both male and female homosexuality only in negative terms. The list of negative qualities most commonly attributed to homosexuality includes: phit prapheni (against customary norms), sia chaat koet (to have wasted or spoiled one’s current incarnation), witthaan (queer or abnormal) and wipparit (perverted) (Jackson 1997d). Within these discourses, the homosexual person is conflated with ‘wrong’ personality and ‘inappropriate’ behaviour.
Peter Jackson (1997d, 1999b) has suggested that Thai academia and areas of the public sector support anti-gay, anti-lesbian and anii-kathoey attitudes and practices that are out of step with the more tolerant attitudes of the general public. Jackson’s analysis (1997b) of 307 Thai language academic publications on transgenderism and male and female homosexuality reveals that the dominant paradigm in Thai academic literature is of homosexuality as pathology and of seeking causes in order to cure. Further, academic discourses are given considerable authority and prestige in Thailand, and as a result, go largely unchallenged. (See also Rattachumpoth 1997.) This preoccupation with the aetiology of homosexuality and the positioning of the homosexual as deviant Other were reflected in a newspaper article reporting a discussion by a group of Thai psychologists about “how to prevent children from imitating homosexuality”:
Nation, ‘Mixed opinions obvious reflection of social divisions’, January 29, 1997.; The Nation, ‘Psychologists on fence over gay ban’, 25 January, 1997, p. 1. [Note that while there were numerous letters to the editor about the ban, these only appeared in the English language press. Thai newspapers do not carry letters to the editor and so this form of opinion making is not available to Thais unless they write to the English language papers.]
100 Psychologists on fence over gay ban
PSYCHOLOGISTS yesterday called for sympathy and understanding for homosexuals, while at the same time neither condemned nor supported educational institutions banning homosexuals.
Dr Thongchai Thawichachat, deputy director general of the Mental Health Department and other psychologists gave a press conference yesterday at the department on the subject of how to prevent children from imitating homosexual behaviour while not violating human rights.
Thongchai said homosexuals are not sexually abnormal. Persons who had sexual abnormalities were those, for example, who have sex with a dead body or with children. Homosexuals should not be socially segregated but be given sympathy and understanding, he added.
Dr Sujarit Suwanacheep, an adviser to the department, said most homosexuals do not feel good about their sexual preference and want to change, but cannot. “Homosexuals are usually depressed. Society should not add insult to injury but should console them and help them live happily,” he said.
Dr ML Somchai Chakrapan, director of Srithanya Hospital, said the public’s opinion about homosexuality will change in time. “People nowadays accept homosexuality more than before. In the past, such behaviour was viewed as a criminal act,” he said. The director said educational institutions have the right to ban homosexual students. The Public Health Ministry will neither support nor oppose their decision. “Homosexuals need not change the way they are. But if they are violent, then they need to change that behaviour,” he said.
The Nation, 25 January, 1997, p.l
While the psychologists “neither condemned nor supported” the ban, their position is transparent and underscored by their words: the homosexual is pathologised - usually depressed, unable to live happily, and prone to violence. Nevertheless, or perhaps because of this, homosexuals deserve sympathy, under standing and consolation. The article also underscores the weight Thais give to main taining ‘smooth interpersonal relations’ and to non-confrontation. Ajarn Suntaree Komin maintains that Thais are more situation than ideology oriented - as actors change, so does the situation, which in turn affects decision making and behaviours -
101 and that by withholding their approval, the psychologists were, in fact, leaving them selves room to manoeuvre (field notes 07/08/98).6 Nevertheless, in withholding their approval, the psychologists legitimised the Institute’s ban on homosexual students, for to ignore something is not a passive act but one that requires volition. But the values of social harmony and personal autonomy are braced together in Thailand so that the Thais are constantly negotiating their relationship to the social group (Bilmes 1992); it is this ongoing tension that provides a space for resistance.
The Thai lesbian group, Anjaree, worked steadily throughout the year to promote resistance to the ban and actively participated in various forums. In December 1997, they culminated their efforts with a public meeting on the rights of women who love women.7 Khun Anjana Suvarnananda, a spokesperson for the Anjaree group, noted in her opening remarks that Thais, and especially Thai women, are not comfortable speaking openly about their personal lives, and disclosure of one’s homosexuality is difficult as it is seen to affect the family’s ‘face’. However, as Khun Anjana noted, the ban against homosexuals entering Rajabhat Teachers Colleges raised questions for many Thai women and men about whether or not being lesbian or gay should remain a personal matter.
Working in conjunction with a German Human Rights Group and The Union for Civil Liberties in Thailand, Anjaree invited Thai academics, the Thai press and the public to openly discuss lesbianism. Their decision to bring together prominent academics and medical professionals to speak on behalf of Thai lesbians was a telling strategy. As noted above, Thai society has traditionally accorded respect to academics and their words carry are not easily dismissed. But this did not mean that the women remained in the shadows, for during the forum they were quick to step to the microphone to offer an alternative point of view or to counter a stereotype. When one panellist suggested that homosexual behaviours could be a result of an unhappy childhood, Khun Amporn Boontan offered this rejoinder:
6 Dr Suntaree Komin, Deputy Director, NIDA Training Centre, National Institute of Development Association, Bangkok. Interviewed in Bangkok, 07 September 1998. 7 The Rights of Women Who Love Women: The Role of Academia and the Media. The Thai Lesbian Forum organised by Friedrich Ebert Stiftung, Anjaree and The Union of Civil Liberties in Thailand, Siam City Hotel, Bangkok (Saturday 13 December, 1997).
102 You might say I am a lesbian [because of something in my past]. I don’t know about that. What I do know is that the reason why I am a lesbian today is because I want to be. Amporn Boontan, Anjaree member
A further issue is that while outward discrimination against homosexual behaviour may not be prevalent in Thailand (Sittitrai et al. 1991, 1992), gossip is pervasive and the fear of public reproach remains (Murray 1992). As a number of authors attest (Jackson 1989, 1995, 1997a; Rattachumpoth 1999; Storer 1999c), the most intense sanctions against homosexual and transgender behaviours operate at the level of discourse rather than of practice or the conduct of everyday life. Further, Jackson (1997c) contends that while many Thai gay men and lesbians can ‘be themselves’, they are systematically silenced because the naming of sexual difference is removed from public discourses. The response by many Thai gay men and lesbians is to separate their public and private lives for, as Jackson and Sullivan explain, as long as a Thai gay man or lesbian “maintains a public face of conforming to normative patterns of masculinity or femininity, respectively, he or she will largely escape disapproval” (1999:4). Such sanctions might appear mild by Western standards, but for Khun Anjana Suvarnananda the denial of social acceptance is one of the most powerful control mechanisms at work in Thai society:
Although Thai people aren’t violent or hostile towards homosexuals in a way that some countries’ societies are, there is another kind of control mechanism at work here that’s just as traumatic for those on the receiving end... [Thai] society doesn’t see lesbian relationships as legitimate or meaningful. In Otagnonta, Bangkok Post, 21 July 1995, p.29
The ‘reluctance’ to openly discuss homosexual behaviours (Rattachumpoth 1997; Sittitrai et al. 1991), and the need to be discreet has, in the past, removed male homosexuality from public discourse and rendered the Thai lesbian invisible. The denial of social acceptance of homosexuality is one of the most powerful control mechanisms at work in Thai society because it is a mechanism of ‘silencing’ that ensures there is no discursive space available for debate (Thiesmeyer forthcoming). Ironically, it is often easier to deal with explicit displays of homophobia than with denial of approval, where there is no discourse to mobilise nor voice to counter. Eve Sedgewick calls this a privilege of unknowing for “in the theatrical display of an
103 already institutional ignorance no transformative potential is to be looked for” (Sedgewick 1990:78). Thus, ‘silence’ acts to both regulate and constitute the homo sexual subject; it maintains the status quo and thereby ensures that homosexuality is not a suitable topic for public discussion (maipro or inappropriate).8
Unwittingly though, the Rajabhat ban against homosexual and lesbian teachers opened a Pandora’s box and moved the debate about homosexuality out of silence into a public arena, where it became a discourse of public consequence (Fairclough 1989) and a ‘site of engagement’ (Scollon 1997) in which identities were claimed, imputed, ratified and contested. Thai sanctions against male and female homosexuality are generally non-confrontational, involving the withholding of approval (Jackson 1995). The response by Thai gay men and lesbians may be explicit and firm; nevertheless, their ‘resistance’ is also non-confrontational. Instead, they elect to enlist support from outside the gay and lesbian ‘community’, most notably from Thai academics and professionals.
In the next section, I will turn my attention to specific instances when Thai gay men and lesbians name themselves, and in so doing, challenge hetero-normative stereotypes.
Representing the gay subject
We all have [the] option of reinventing ourselves and altering the landscape we inhabit.” John Preston, A Winter’s Light (1995:25)
Peter Jackson’s study of the representations of ‘gay’, ‘lesbian’ and kathoey in the Thai press from early 1960s to 1992 is informative in that it illustrates a melange of terms to describe same sex desires and points to an ever increasing public debate about same sex eroticism in Thailand (Jackson 1997a, 1999a). But it is important to keep in mind that these representations were located in the popular press and directed g Searle (1969:33ff) distinguished between regulative rules, rules that “regulate antecedently or independently existing forms of behaviour”, and constitutive rules, which “create or define new forms of behaviour” (1969:33ff).
104 towards a largely heterosexual readership. As such they do not necessarily reflect ‘local’ naming as deployed by Thai gay men and lesbians.
On the one hand, such naming inaugurates the Thai lesbian and gay man by providing a discursive space for talking about same sex desire. Indeed, being called a name is one of the conditions by which a subject is constituted in language (Butler 1995). But on the other hand, the space remains framed within a traditional bipolar construction of sexuality. Jackson describes, for example, how the word ‘gay’ was first introduced in the Thai press in the 60s, when it became apparent that there were ‘masculine’ men selling sex to men - the term kathoey no longer worked (Jackson 1999:383-93). It is important to keep in mind here that this naming was ‘done’ by the press, whose primary intention would have been to make sense of the story for their readership. What is not clear from their story telling was how these ‘masculine’ men named themselves -gay, straight, bisexual, men at work or simply men.
The traditional naming of sexuality in Thailand (after Jackson 1997) can be depicted as follows:
Ekkalak phet (traditional division of gender/sexuality):
phoochai fman) kathoey phooying (woman)
In this account, men and women (masculinity and femininity) are located at either end of a bipolar continuum and the kathoey is located at a point in the middle. That is, Jackson sees the kathoey as providing a fulcrum around which and against which masculinity and femininity can be measured. ‘Real men’ perform their masculinity in opposition to both women and kathoey. The reports of‘masculine’ men selling sex to men clearly disrupted this comfortable alignment: historically, men who had sex with men were viewed as junior partners in terms of age. Further, male sex workers were viewed as lower class partners in terms of their social status (Jackson 1999a). (Also implicit is the conjecture that a man who sells sex to another man adopts an inferior sexual position during the sexual act.) These suppositions collapsed in the face of the performative ‘masculine’ male sex worker.
105 Similarly, the arrival of gay-identified Nong Toom on the Bangkok fight scene created a stir, both locally and internationally {Bangkok Post 1998; Larphun 1998). As I have argued elsewhere (Storer 1999b), what was newsworthy about this ‘outing’ was that a gay-identified man wearing make-up should subscribe to what has traditionally been a real man’s domain, the homo-social world of boxing, in which masculinity is consolidated through the grouping of men together in the unity of gender sameness.9 Nong Toom’s appearance in the boxing ring, performing kathoey (sporting external signs of femininity at least) but demanding room in a male space clearly troubled normative gender boundaries and disrupted popular assumptions about homosexuality and the effeminate kathoey.
Unsettling boundaries
One day, I was travelling in a taxi across Bangkok with a Thai friend, Wit, and had with me, in a clear plastic folder, newspaper articles about Parinya. Wit noticed the clippings:
Wit Ah, Parinya. GS Mm, kathoey roon mat (new generation kathoey) Wit He’s not a kathoey. GS What do you mean by kathoey? Wit What do you mean by kathoey?
(field notes 15/05/98)
What ensued was a four-hour discussion about naming and when to deploy particular terms. Wit explained that he uses faen (a non-gender marked term) when referring to his boyfriend in Thai but that he prefers ‘my boyfriend’ to ‘my lover’ when speaking English. For him, boyfriend is more direct and explicit while ‘lover’ he associates with promiscuity, a bit of extra on the side {choo in Thai). I am not suggesting here that Wit is in anyway reluctant to name his sexuality in Thai: My mother calls me kathoey. That ’s the word she knows. My nephews and nieces call me
9 Male homosociality is expected in certain environments (the snooker hall or football terrace); encouraged in male rituals (drinking and going to the brothel); and enforced in institutions (the military or sport; Healy 1996).
106 toot (from the film Tootsie). Rather, Wit prefers to select his moments and in some instances, he deliberately marshals his first language to challenge stereotypes about gender, as in the following riposte which mixes feminine pronouns and sentence particles with masculine attributes: chan pen phoochai, naya.]0
chan - first person singular pronoun, used mostly by women pen - verb to be phoochai - a man / masculine naya - a ‘bitchy’ form of kha, the politeness markers used by women
There is no indigenous Thai noun for a homosexual person other than kathoey (Jackson 1997c), a term that remains marked and problematic. However, nowadays, kathoey is often used to label gentle and effeminate men, or in a derogatory way like the terms ‘homo’ or ‘poof deployed in Australia. As a consequence, the language of homosexuality is, in a number of circumstances, English. But while terms like gay, king and queen have been borrowed into the Thai vernacular, they lack coherence and mean different things to different people. For some, gay has been used as a label for ‘modern’ and ‘egalitarian’ homosexuality through a process of stigma transformation (Murray 1994). For others, however, the word has merely replaced kathoey as a euphemism for men who are homosexually penetrated. Thus, a Thai man may eschew naming himself as gay, associating it with behaviour expected of a kathoey (Allyn 1991:144). Indeed, it is this lack of precision in terms to talk about homosexuality and an ambiguity inherent in the Thai language that enable some Thai men to avoid self categorisation as homosexuals and thereby preserve a masculine self-image. The word khao for example, can mean ‘she’, ‘he’ or ‘they’, while the colloquial term faen can mean ‘girlfriend’, ‘boyfriend’, ‘lover’, ‘husband’ or ‘wife.’ Thus, it is possible to refer to a male partner without disclosing that he is a man.
10 Harvey (1997) has explored the importance of word choice for an elaboration of a distinct ‘gay’ identity. His starting point was his own ‘lack of stability’ in the selection/deployment of terms like my boyfriend, my lover and my partner and the fact that gender-specific terms, like he/him/my boyfriend are avoided in homophobic situations (1997:69). But gay men may deliberately deploy a strategy of reappropriation of terms like my boyfriend, my date so as to re-read objects and institutions from a gay perspective (Leap 1996:22-3).
107 Figure 4.1 Nong Toom as featured in the October edition of Bangkok Metro Magazine (Cornwel-Smith and Sodsai 1999: 24)
108 Yim, another self-identified gay man, resisted the notion that he had to be either ‘active’ or ‘receptive’ (ie. king or queen). For him, gay means exclusive sexual relations with other men and being able “to do everything” (field notes, 28/1 1/95). Such resistance defines a space different from that understood by the traditional masculine-feminine opposition, which has historically structured male-male sex relations in Thailand. The point to keep in mind here is that while gay has been appropriated into the Thai vernacular, it does not necessarily reproduce the gay- straight binary of Western discourse. Rather, gay in Thailand is often deployed as a mechanism to disengage from the label kathoey and its feminine association - I am not a kathoey. As such it is a performative term that disrupts accepted beliefs about masculinity and thereby short-circuits the traditional binary male-female opposition. Similarly, other terms deployed by homosexually active Thai men like seu-a bai (bi sexual men), queen or king are not identity laden terms but performative and their usage denotes sexual behaviours; in these contexts, homosexuality is what you do and not who you are.11
In recent years, there has been a detachment from the ‘feminine’ representations of male homosexuality (Jackson 1996), and constructions of masculinity are slowly changing, notably in Bangkok and other major commercial centres. As in other parts of the world, the gym culture has become a dominant image around the Thai gay scene, and the Thai gay man now seen cruising the bars or roving the steam room is not necessarily sticking to any prescribed sexual role (Storer 1999c). The play is about avoiding rigid categories of exclusion and inclusion and about celebrating maleness.12
11 A complex system of polarised terms describes the sexual roles played out in homoerotic encounters, many of which continue to reinforce the imaginings of the ‘real’ man as dominant and on top of the situation. The ‘male’ discourse, for example, invokes images of war and penetration (eg.fai rook - the invading side; siap - to penetrate; ao pratoo lang - to enter the back gatej while the ‘female’ discourse reinforces images of submission and giving (eg. ton rap - to receive; took siap - to be penetrated; khao ao pom - literally he took me; and hai tarn - let ‘do’/be willing to be done (Storer 1999c). 12 In a similar vein, David Halperin (1995:89-90) argues that Western clone culture is not an expression of male supremicism or separatism, nor “a revalorisation of the male as male.” Relationships between homosexual men, he asserts, are characterised by tenderness. Further, clone culture serves to detach homosexuality from its phobic association with femininity - thus, it characterises homosexuality performatively.
109 We should not assume that this Thai gay identity is “an importation from the West” (Morris 1994:29), a pale imitation of Western clone culture. The images adopted by Thai men have been appropriated and re-inscribed to challenge the notion that gay means kathoey, submissive, weak or wimpish. Unfortunately, this imaging has generated its own commodified techniques of normalisation.13 There is now a new right way to be gay in Thailand that costs money, and many men would find them selves unable to afford the lifestyle (Storer 1999c). Regrettably, the emergence of this masculine-identified gay community has further stigmatised the kathoey (Jackson 1995) and, in an act of homo-sexism, Thai gay men now define their identity in opposition to the kathoey.
Naming has been even more problematic for the Thai lesbian as there is no equivalent word in the Thai language other than the phrase ‘playing with friends’, connoting women being sexual with each other (Thongtiraj 1996). In choosing a name for themselves, the Thai lesbian group Anjaree created the word: Anjaree means ‘someone who follows a different path’. More recently, the group have adopted the expression ying rak ying (women who love women). As group co-founder, Anjana Suvarnananda, explained, ‘lesbian’ is seen as a loaded term because of its association with pornography and its misappropriation into the erotic fantasies of Thai men (interviewed 11/01/98). The terms tom and dee, from tomboy and lady respectively, are favoured by some Thai women to name their sexual orientation and are also performative in nature (Sinnott 1999):
Previously the terms tom-dee were self-constructed and neutral. Thai society will accept the two binary opposites and tom-dee are the engagement of this. In this construction, the dee ’s femininity is not hurt - it stays up. The tom [on the other hand] is a form of resistance in that the tom is saying she will not play the submissive and inferior Thai woman, that she is equal to men... The tom served [in the past] as a technique to attract other women when no other forms of seduction were available. In this sense, tom-dee is an erotic play that serves both private and public spheres. Anjana Suvarnananda (interviewed 11/01/98)
13 Halperin has described how gay life in the West has generated techniques of normalisation - as exemplified by the obligatory form-hugging T-shirts, tattoos, ear piercing and physical exercise - and he ruefully asks if the gym work-out is a form of liberation or a form of forced labour (1995:32).
110 A schema of oppositions
The traditional naming of sexuality in Thailand (as exemplified above) reflects an historical view of the kathoey as an intermediary sex. More commonly, the term is used in a derogatory fashion to name and position the kathoey as abnormal. The kathoey does occupy the female domain; however, the naming of kathoey as the ‘second type of woman’ relegates her into an inferior position in that domain. This understanding provides an elaboration of Jackson’ (1997) analysis of ekkalak phet (above):
Kathoey as the second type of woman (masculinity defined in opposition to kathoey).
phoochai phooying kathoey (phooying praphet song) A
Further, sex and gender do not have to correspond with each other ‘correctly’ as defined by the binary matrix underpinning heterosexuality (Butler 1990 1995). Identity categories may well act as normalising categories of dominant structures, but they are also crucial sites where meanings are resisted and contested. ‘Difference’ is not so much a reflection of pre-given socio-cultural tablets of stone as it is a complex on-going negotiation set at the border posts and frontlines of cultural production and dissemination (Bhaba 1994:270-71). Alison Murray describes it thus:
Lesbians establish their identity through images and how they perform them, both for themselves and a changing audience. An audience can use these performances to make rigid categorisations of exclusion and inclusion, making stereotypes something to avoid... Or, stereotyped images can be exploited or played with and used to confront: you can use an image to look the part (of a dyke), but increasingly you could be straight, or a sex worker, or an academic, or all of these, or something else. Alison Murray (1992:67)
111 Other discursive oppositions in the Thai system of ekkalak phet are shown in Fig. 4.2:
Kathoey as the second type of woman; masculinity is defined in opposition to kathoey.
phoochai phooying kathoey (phooying praphet song)
The sexually adventurous male; male-male sex is a gendered option; gay is ‘irrelevant’.
phoochai phooying seu-a bai
Gay is not man; masculinity is defined against ‘gayness’ i.e. gay is femininised or viewed as equal to kathoey.
phoochai gay
Gay is claimed as an identity; gay is neither man, woman nor kathoey.
phoochai gay phooying
Gay is masculine; 1 am not a kathoey.
gay kathoey (phooying praphet song)
Gay as two genders; the gay king performs ‘man’, while the gay queen resists being feminised and renormatised to a transgender kathoey.
gay king gay queen
Figure 4.2 Ekkalak phet - a schema of oppositions
112 Despite the borrowing of Western terminology to name the Thai gay and lesbian subject, it is important to note that borrowing is a local response and that the borrowed terms have been reconfigured into the Thai vernacular as incitements and affirmations of local identities. For this reason, I would argue against any suggestion that Thai gay and lesbian identities are merely a product of the globalisation of ‘gay’ (Altman 1997, 1996). To concur would be to deny local discourses and traditions. It would also deny Thai lesbians and gay men agency within these cultural and situational resources. Rather, I support the views of Took Took Thongtiraj (1996:163) who has argued: “[Tjhat Thai women in same-sex relationships are creating their own terms and concepts to contest their identities reveals that lesbianism is not a Western import, but very Thai” (cf. Sinnott 1999:116). Similarly, Thai ‘gay’ men are contesting and reconfiguring the Thai language in order to describe their homosexuality.
In chapter three, I discussed how legal issues and government policies affect male sex workers and their practice. In the next section, I will show how the understandings of gender and sexuality explicated thus far have been reflected in research about Thai male sex workers.
Writing sex work
The preoccupation with homosexuality as pathology that has dominated Thai psychological and biomedical descriptions of gender and sexuality (Jackson 1997d) has also been a feature of some of the research on male sex work in Thailand. Anan Narvilai (1994a, 1994b), for example, in a study of free-lance male commercial sex and other homosexual behaviours, speciously argued that young men from up- country, either out of curiosity or from economic necessity, are lured into prostitution and that, in the process, they become homosexuals (or at least bisexuals). Concomitantly, he argued this trend would lead to an increase in the number of homosexuals and an erosion of Thai society {Bangkok Post 1994; Storer 1999c). In a similar vein, in a research paper heralding a ‘new perspective on Thai homosexuality’, and which purported to trace the gender career of young Thai men, Poshyachinda and Danthamrongkul (1996) suggested that men become kathoey through a process of association with other kathoey. Underpinning both these studies is the conjecture that
113 male sex work is an antecedent to homosexuality.
However, we need to be wary of being seduced by the notion that “masculinity is a fragile essence, more easily spoiled than maintained” (Stephen Murray 1992:31). Fortunately such arguments, though well rehearsed, are easily refuted. In a study that has received little attention in Thailand, Khun Sirichai Vongsatitsart (1989) compared the demographics, family relationships and communication patterns for Thai male sex workers with men who were working in the service sector in jobs peripheral to the male sex industry. While Vongsatitsart (1989) found a significant difference in education between the two groups - in general, the male sex workers reported fewer years of schooling - he found no significant differences in terms of their relationships with parents or siblings, nor in terms of the emotional support they received from their families and friends. That is, his study refutes a commonly held misperception: that the male sex worker is the product of an emotionally impoverished background and unable to exert control over his social environment.14
Narvilai’s research was apparently prompted by Peter Jackson’s (1989, 1995) work on homosexuality in Thailand, as he felt that Jackson had “applied a very West ern perspective” to Thai homosexuality (Narvilai 1994b). Unfortunately, Narvilai did not challenge his own subjective position and its effect on the informants, nor did he interrogate the broader socio-political context that would have shaped his informants’ responses, As such, his conventional reading of the research data confuses sexual behaviour with sexual identity, reinforces stereotypes about homosexual behaviours and desires and does little towards voicing the concerns of male sex workers. Such an ideology of deviance, I suggest, serves to disempower sex workers (cf. Browne and Minichiello 1996b). It would be more useful to recognise the central role sex workers play in a complex pleasure economy, and that a diverse workforce extending from the ice men and waiters to pimps and accountants depends on this economy to make a living. (Of equal sociological interest is what distinguishes men who elect to sex work from those men who do not: why do some men remain determinedly heterosexual?
14 As early as 1961, Reiss showed as false the notion that American juveniles who hustled ‘queers’ became homosexuals. Rather, as Reiss’ study demonstrated (1961, 1964), hustling provided the youth with a relatively safe and quick way to make money. And, as I argued in chapter one, male sex work may provide an entree for some men into a longer homosexual career that extends beyond the workplace.
114 Asking men of similar socio-economic background why they choose not to sex work would, I believe, uncover important findings about societal sanctions against male- male sex behaviours in general and, more specifically, male sex work.)
Coming out may be a modern concept but involves levels of difficulty that have a very long history, including fear of rejection, categorisation, or making the wrong decision (Edwards 1994). Jackson (1995), Jackson and Sullivan (1999) and Jan de Lind van Wijngaarden (1995b) suggest that Thai men who like sex with men can avoid stigmatisation only by marrying and establishing a family. As in other countries, the perception that homosexual identity negates or violates family roles inhibits disclosure of homosexual identity, particularly when privilege is given to maintaining a public face of conforming and passing. In some cases, marriage becomes a protective mechanism against disclosure. However, the decision not to disclose raises a further danger - the risk of discovery (Strommen 1989). This sets up a double prohibition for the male sex worker, the fear that his family will know that he is prostituting himself and doing so with other men. Thus, I disagree with Allyn’s assumption that there is minimal stigmatisation of the male sex worker in Thailand (Allyn 1991:120). Any man who identifies himself as a male sex worker servicing men becomes subject to the socio-sexual and political discourses which stereotype masculinity and stigmatise prostitution (Browne & Minichiello 1996b). Thai male sex workers confirm this when they report that they feel they are ‘looked down on’ for selling their bodies (Sittitrai et al. 1994a:7).
In his study of male homosexual desires in Northern Thailand, De Lind van Wijngaarden (1995a, 1995b) submits that within the pragmatic and fluid view of sexuality that persists in Thailand, men are able to enjoy homoerotic experiences or take on the role of sex workers if these are viewed as something being lived at the moment. His conclusion is informative, I believe, of how some men rationalise male sex work and preserve their self-image in the face of hetero-normative assumptions about masculinity. Understandably then, a major concern of the male sex workers is their ability to ‘pass’ (Feinberg 1992), and the workers with whom I talked were quick to distinguish the group norms that governed the interaction between fellow workers and customers. This is facework (Goffman 1963b: 108, 1963c; Brown and Levinson 1987), whereby the worker builds and maintains impressions.
115 As we shall see in the next chapter, presentation of the self and management of impressions is a requisite skill for working the off bars. In addition, each of the bars in Bangkok projects an image which reflects a particular market niche. In some instances, this positioning does not allow for homosexual identification, especially in bars like the Tulip or Big Boy, where customers go to find ‘real’ men (read muscle men), and where watching the workers lift weights is part of the performance. But in a bar like the Superman, it is acceptable to gay identify, as Noel, an Australian resident in Thailand explained: the culture of a bar defines the boys. For example, the guys at the Big Boy or Tulip all act like ‘men’ while in Bar Carousel they act gay. In Superman, you can be either. It ’s a tolerant environment for those boys who are gay (field notes, 08/12/95). He then went on to describe two of the men he knew:
Nung was 29 and he used to work at Superman, where he would play ‘female’ roles in the shows. Then he moved around to Big Boy where he built up muscles and took on a definite ‘man’ image.
Toi, who works at Tulip, which is a muscle culture, has two children. He said that he is not gay but he would act out gay roles for customers if required. Noel (field notes 08/12/95)
Thus, while studies of Thai male sex workers highlight that the majority of the workers do not gay identify (Narvilai 1994a, 1994b; Kunawararak et al. 1995; Sriwatjana 1995; Sittitrai et al. 1994), these findings need to be challenged. Firstly, in the absence of a truly naturalised discourse about homosexuality, there is simply no consensus as to what terms like ‘gay’ or even ‘kathoey’ mean. Secondly, questions that ask Are you gay? or Do you prefer to have sex with men? invite denial when terms like ‘complete’ man (phoochai tern tua) or 100 per cent man (phoochai neung roi per sen) retain currency. Thirdly, the comments above suggest that gender performativity may take a more pragmatic turn, depending on the social context. Here Sam challenges the force of heterosexual presumptions:
116 [Male sex workers] can’t claim they are [real] men when they sleep with other men and have feelings. At the most, they might be 80% men and 20% gay. They are men (...) they just won’t show they are gay. Some have a wife and children, but they work in the bar. If you’re 100% man, then you can’t sleep with another man. A man sleeping with men is repugnant. Oh, afraid, [shaking in mock horror and laughing] Sam, bar worker (IDI, 23/01/96)
Conversely, research questions that ask about lifetime homosexual experience (prasopkaan rak ruam phet), rather than sexual orientation, reveal more telling in formation (Beyrer et al. 1995). In 1996, for example, Dr Suchai Kitsiriphornchai reported on a national survey of 4904 (17 percent of the total national intake) twenty- one year-old Royal Thai Army conscripts. The majority (87 percent) reported a previous sexual experience; 17 percent of this sexually active group reported a life time homosexual experience with another male. Of this latter subgroup, 68 percent (or 11 percent of the total) replied affirmatively to the question: ‘Are you still engaging in this behaviour?’ (quoted in Jackson 1999b:48-51).15
As Borthwick reminds us, Thai social contexts are characterised by inclusion rather than exclusion (Borthwick 1999). Thus, to name oneself as homosexual is to name oneself as Other and outside group norms, an action that would intrude on the values of‘smooth interpersonal relations’ and the ‘presentation of public order’ (Storer 1999c). This is a significant understanding when we consider the relevance of the concepts of‘gay community’ and ‘community attachment’ in a Thai context.
Looking for community
Russel Leong (1996) contends that for many Asians the notion of coming out as a means of breaking the silence around homosexuality is a very Western model. It is not that questions of sexuality have no significance or legitimacy or priority in Asian contexts, but rather that material conditions affect social priorities differently in Asian cultures, as they do elsewhere (Morton 1997). Thus, while there is evidence of
15 See also studies conducted among twenty-one year-old army recruits in the Northern (Nopekesorn et al. 1991) and in the Central and lsaan regions (Panthumabamrung and Saengdisth 1991).
117 an emerging middle class gay lifestyle in some parts of Thailand (Jackson 1995, 1997b, 1999b; Altman 1995, 1996), we cannot assume a coherent community of gay men and lesbians. The community discourse falsely implies unity and homogeneity; the effect is that differences and diversity may become marginalised or erased.
On the one hand, gay-identification is constrained by a gender-role domination that maintains the notion of‘real’ men versus ‘feminine’ women and ‘second type’ of women (a regulation that actually conceals the discontinuities that pervade Thai trans gender, gay and lesbian contexts). On the other hand, sanctions against homosexuality tend to be non-interventionist. For this reason, we would not expect to see a gay community as in the West with its tradition of liberation, simply because without oppression, there can be no liberation (Plummer 1992:4; Altman 1972). Jackson and Sullivan suggest that it “is more accurate to think in terms of many local networks linked loosely by a common argot” when speaking of the Thai context (1999:6), for the Thai ‘gay’ community is not a static and consistent entity necessarily linked to any physical territory. Rather, there are numerous and overlapping communities, and people move in and out of the various definitions of‘gay’.
The Anjaree group has worked actively for almost a decade to provide a forum where women who love women can socialise and share their common identity, and has successfully given public voice to issues concerning Thai lesbians. From the out set, the group’s founders worked to define a common identity for Anjaree members by asking: What do we share?; Why do we want to be part of a community? (inter view with Anjana Suvarnanonda, co-founder of Anjaree, 11/01/98). It is worth noting that the manner in which these questions are framed allows for individual and group responses to be built on lesbian identity as well as on other considerations located, for example, in class, family, and regional or cultural specificities (Thongthiraj 1996; Sinnott 1999).
As described in chapter three, groups working with homosexually active men, however, have been less successful in establishing a voice for Thai gay men. FACT, which began providing support services to male and female sex workers and to gay men in the mid-eighties, has largely languished (McCamish et al. 2000). Chai Chuay Chai, providing HIV support services to bar-based male sex workers as well as homo-
118 sexually active men frequenting ‘gay’ beats in Chiang Mai (Beyrer 1998; McCamish et al. 2000), has faded away.
More recently, a new support group for gay men was formed in Bangkok: Penan Chuay Penan, or Friends Helping Friends, is a closed group and does not advertise in the Thai gay media or elsewhere. Rather, current members introduce new members (field notes, 30/01/99). The anonymity that this arrangement affords may appeal to those men wishing to maintain distinct public and private lives. Additionally, Peuan Chuay Peuan targets middle class and professional Thai men, deliberately ex cluding those who are unemployed. My concern is that this exclusivity will further isolate a large proportion of homosexually active men who lie beyond the reach of current ‘gay’ networks (see Jackson 1997b). Anjaree, on the other hand, has made a conscious decision to cross economic borders, “simply because lesbian women with money can readily buy public spaces” (interview with Anjana Suvarnanonda, 11/01/98).
There are three reasons why I feel it is important to continue to strengthen net works among Thai ‘gay’ men and lesbians. Firstly, as described in chapter three, many young Thai men coming to terms with their homosexuality may be excluded (economically and/or socially) from contemporary gay life and there may be a sense of isolation and a corresponding lack of self esteem (Sittitrai et al. 1994b). Secondly, Thailand’s sexual minorities have been “very poorly served in terms of counselling, health services and other support services” (Rattachumpoth 1999:xxiii). And thirdly, ‘connectedness’ to support networks (Resnick et al. 1997) appears to be critical in shaping the motivation and intention central to behaviour change. For instance, out reach workers on the Prasaang Jai Rak Norng youth beats project in Chiang Mai found that young male sex workers, who lacked support networks and who were in need of money, were usually unable to negotiate sexual practice; they merely ‘followed the client.’ Conversely, those young men who lived at home and had accompanying responsibilities were more likely to negotiate sexual practice and sexual safety (field notes 17/11/98). I will return to the theme of sexual safety as a social process (Ridge et al. 1994; Weeks 1995:47) in chapters six and seven.
In the West, gay men and lesbians organise around relationships based on
119 distinct and often separatist groups. But as I have argued, naming oneself outside group norms is dissonant with the Thai values of maintaining smooth interpersonal interactions and the presentation of public order. For this reason, Prue Borthwick (1999) has questioned how well peer education models fit Thai contexts. As she notes, peer education for gay and lesbian groups is usually based on understandings of solidarity and equality, with a distinction made along gender lines. It is the supposed levelling power of these relationships which provides the social tool inherent in peer education, and which needs to be examined here. Borthwick illustrates the emphasis given to inclusion rather than exclusion by describing an AIDS Widows group in northern Thailand that “ended up including AIDS widowers as well as new husbands of widowed women” (1999:72).
Borthwick (1999:75) proposes instead a 'pee education’ model (from older to younger siblings), arguing that in-built structuring along age and family lines pervades almost all Thai relationships; “the pee-nong relationship is one of the build ing blocks of Thai society” and invokes trust and mutual responsibility. Khun Thawat, for example, while working for the Prasaang Jai Rak Norng beats project, interacted with male sex workers, gay-identified men and lesbians, kathoey and ‘straight’ men cruising for fun, and was affectionately called Aunty by many of the younger men (interviewed 17/11/98).
The attempt to create a community based on shared sexual orientation has been a crucial project in Western countries, and one that has enabled gays and lesbians to become a political movement and demand their rights. However, the notion of gay community raises a number of challenging questions when applied to non-Western cultures like Thailand, where ‘gay’ or ‘lesbian’ does not necessarily signify ‘a person’ but a behaviour or ‘sometime experience’ (ker-y mee prasopkaari). It is important to remember that for many Thai women and men, their homosexuality is private and beyond public gaze. For others, gender and sexuality do not necessarily follow from desire (Butler 1990), and same-sex encounters typically comprise only one portion of their sexual wardrobe. I have deliberately avoided using the term ‘fluid’ (eg. Herdt 1984) to describe gender and sexuality in Thailand because it seems, to me at least, to imply an easy passage or flow from one place to another, and because it under emphasises the contexts in which gender or sexuality are rehearsed. I
120 propose instead that Leap’s formulation of ‘gender career’ (1995) provides a way forward in that it is capable of accounting for the fact that gender and sexuality may be temporal (or even experimental) and that expressions of gender are context specific (van Esterik 1999). Kai, for example, explored his homosexuality to the full for a year but now lives monogamously with his wife:
I used to work at Adam bar from 19 to 20 years old. I used to do everything - oral sex, insertive anal sex or receptive anal sex. I had a lot of sex that year, only with men. Once I left the bar, I gave it all up. Now I’m living with my wife... I’m monogamous. Kai, taxi driver and former sex worker (field notes 17/11/98)
In closing this section, I would assert that while there is no readily identifiable community of Thai gay men built around shared sexual orientation, there are recognisable networks of homosexually active men that intersect and overlap. For this reason, I believe it is more useful to consider multiple ‘discourse communities’ that define themselves not only along the lines of gender, but also along alignments of age, class, education, family relations and regional affinities, than it is to talk about a singular Thai gay or lesbian community. Drawing on Dowsett (1997), I believe it would be useful then to seek ways to better understand the marked differences between, for example, communities of interest and circumstance, and more deeply structured communities.
Concluding remarks
It has been my intention in this chapter to examine some of the discourses that stereotype homosexuality in Thailand. I have also wanted to show how and when Thai men choose to deploy and/or reject naming themselves. I conclude that while Thailand lacks the extreme homophobia ingrained in many Western societies, sanctions against homosexuality do exist, and there is a definite delay in applying stigmatised labels to oneself (Murray 1992). Thai social contexts are characterised by inclusion rather than exclusion (Borthwick 1999) so that Thai gay men and lesbians are daily negotiating the spaces between disclosure and safety.
121 My position is that gender studies based on and reinforced by narratives of procreation (Sedgewick 1993; Hawkensworth 1997) or that see homosexuality as a dissent from masculinity have moved attention away from discussions about homo sexual behaviours and discourages open discussion about same gender sex. I have shown how some Thai lesbians and gay men are beginning to problematise the silences surrounding homosexuality by resisting established norms, both linguistically and performatively. The manner in which Thai lesbians and gay men are re-assigning their own meanings to, and in some cases, rejecting Western terms to describe their homosexuality, is a further reminder that Western perspectives hold no privilege.
In the next chapter, I will look more closely at what Noel referred to as the ‘culture’ of the bars. In particular, I will examine how the culture of the bars defines the social and linguistic interactions between bar workers and their customers, and the way in which bar workers enact and rehearse masculinity in the workplace. five
Working the Bars
The pornography of a work does not derive from the nakedness of bodies, from the obscenity of ‘exposed’ parts; rather it depends on the discourse which is implied, that relate to the right of inspection over the body or corpus of the other... to the constant interchange of subjects, and thus to the law of the market, to the escalation and outbidding which governs everything, including us who speaks here. Right of Inspection (Derrida and Pissart 1989)
Do you see anyone you like?
scene from a bar: The Saphan Kwai intersection on Paholyothin Road is about half way between the Victory monument and the northeastern bus terminal. On one side of the intersection, on Suthisan Road, can be found a large number of female sex worker bars. On the other side, on Pradiphat Road, there are mostly male sex worker bars - a convenient gender bifurcation.
In mid-1996, I took Garth on a tour of Saphan Kwai, to show him the bar sites. Aladdin’s was our first stop. Situated on the corner of a lane, Aladdin’s is narrow - the width of a store front - and small compared to most of the inner city bars. But it is usually busy with customers who are predominantly Thai. As we entered the door, a flurry of activity took place - well, a couple of the staff (all of whom were kathoey) stopped chatting and got up from where they were sitting. One of the kathoey showed us to a worn vinyl-padded sofa and
123 asked us for our drink orders. Another brought a plate of pineapple. They left us and went back to their talk.
We looked around. It was still early and there were only three other customers. The small stage at one end was barely large enough for the two workers who danced in white underwear. Their dancing was desultory. One of them yawned. Other workers, dressed in street clothes, sat cramped together on stools arranged in rows in front of the stage, watching a program on a TV set that we could not see. Some of the workers attempted to catch our eyes, to smile at us.
We saw ‘Aladdin’, the owner, when he came forward to say hello to a customer, presumably a regular. Otherwise he maintained a low profile at the cash register. After a few minutes, one of the kathoey detached herself from her work mates and came over. Pleasantries were quickly dispensed and she got down to business. Do you see anyone you like? What kind of boy are you looking for? That one over there is new. Not yet, we ’re just looking. If you see anyone just call me.
She moved back and resumed chatting to her friends.
In Aladdin’s, the seating arrangements are such that the customers and workers sit and gaze at each other. We found the looking awkward and self-conscious. In addition, the customers and workers are essentially immobilised; a worker cannot directly approach a customer, nor can a customer approach a worker. The bar staff mediate the contact, and apart from smiling, the workers have no role to play. No negotiation of the space seems possible.
Afterwards, Garth said that he found it difficult to distinguish the workers from the customers. (field notes 26/06/96)
In chapter four, Noel described how each bar projects a particular marketing niche that reflects a certain identity ‘type’: body builders work at the Tulip; ‘gay’ men can be found at Superman or at Joe’s; suave young men in tuxedos are on hand at The Workshop; and a range of options is available at Neon. In this chapter, I will draw on Bourdieu’s (1977a, 1990c, 1991) concept of capital, and in particular, his under standings of the linguistic market to elaborate an economy of the bar sites. 1 will argue that while the bars provide the workers with a structure within which to act, this structure also signals certain discursive conventions and modes of practice (‘frame’ in
124 Goffman’s sense 1974, 1981), which constrain the social and linguistic interactions between the workers and their customers. I will also adopt de Certeau’s (1984:117) distinction between space and place, in order to theorise the marketing strategies that operate in the bars:
...’space’ is not a prior condition of something else (‘place’), but rather an outcome, the product of an activity, and so it necessarily has a temporal dimension. Reversing the customary distinction that space is a structured place, space says de Certeau is a practiced place. (in Morris 1992:3; original emphasis)
Much of Erving Goffman’s work has been concerned with analysing strategies of self-presentation that are designed to manipulate one’s self image (Goffman 1963:155-60, 1969). To this, Bourdieu (1990c, 1994, 1977) adds one’s position in social space, and in this chapter I will draw on Bourdieu to show how the social space in the bars is regulated through the control of resources and linguistic capital.1 In more simple terms, what (if any) are the acceptable modes of behaviour in the bars? What can be said and what cannot be said? An assumption 1 am making is that the bars may be viewed as communities of practice (Swales 1990; Gee 1992), in which the discourse conventions not only display membership in the bar, but also act to organise and regulate the workers and customers. Significantly, as described previously in chapter two, such conventions are normative in that they reward and “sanction particular ways of acting, talking, believing, valuing and interacting”; in this way, members are apprenticed and the continuity of the group is ensured.
A second assumption is that understanding the social organization inside the bars will allow us to explicate the strategies employed by the bar workers to manage their interactions with their customers, and to manoeuvre in the space (de Certeau 1984). I am guided here by the consideration that complex relations exist between sexuality and space (Almgreen 1994). In Elizabeth Grosz’ terms, “the body is physically, socially, sexually, and discursively or representationally produced, and ...in turn, bodies reinscribe and project themselves onto their sociocultural environ-
1 In particular, I will draw on Bourdieu’s (1990b) analysis of the Kabyle house, in which he shows how space within the house is segregated into male and female spaces, which in turn regulates the types of talk that take place. ment so that this environment both produces and reflects the form and interests of the body” (Grosz 1992:242). Thus, I view the bars as spaces in which customers and workers negotiate (and re-negotiate) their identities and where the real and imagined merge to mediate identity performance.
This chapter is organised in the following way. I begin by examining how new recruits are initiated into the discourse conventions operating in the bars, and I will show that while the ‘house rules’ are made clear to new workers, information about ‘duties’ to be performed or how to deal with customers is characteristically vague. I then examine how bar workers learn the ropes, by drawing on networks that confirm group membership and maintain identity impressions. I next distinguish the discursive practices operating in go-go bars from those operating in ‘local’ bars, and examine how one marketing strategy deployed in the bars, the ‘protocol of service’, is reified through the use of space. In particular, I will highlight how this protocol constrains the interactions between the workers and their customers. In so doing, I will elaborate the work of the kaptan. Finally, I analyse ‘typical’ talk that goes on between a worker and his customer as they set up the off, so as to explicate the strategies developed by ex perienced workers to manage their identities and to manoeuvre within these regulatory structures. I finish by addressing the question: who speaks in the bars and to whom? But first, I will elaborate a theme I introduced in chapter one, how men make their entry into bar work.
Entry into bar work
As described in chapter one, most men entering bar work for the first time are introduced by friends or ‘older brothers’ who form part of their social, and in some cases, kinship networks. Less than twenty percent of the informants in this study reported seeking out bar work under their own steam, and none of the men reported being forced into sex work or being indebted to the bar management in any way. In contrast to their female counterparts, male bar workers tend to drift in and out of sex work. Others moonlight the bars to supplement their incomes. Noi, who left bar work to drive a taxi, reported picking up free-lance work as the bars and discos were closing (field notes 27/06/99). Net left bar work when he was conscripted in the army but
126 continued to free-lance when he came into Bangkok on the weekends (field notes 01/07/99).
For many men, entry into male sex work also marks the beginning of a long term homosexual experience. Chan and Tee, for example, had both came to Bangkok from Udorn Thani in Isaan. They met each other when selling khanom (Thai sweets) from street stalls. The two men became close friends and later worked together on various construction sites in the city. Before coming to Bangkok, both men had been in marriages that had not worked out. Both had fathered children who now live with relatives back home: Chan a boy; Tee a boy and a girl. Both men self-identified as gay. Chan was 30 when we met and working the bars. He had started doing occasional free-lance sex work at the Sanaam Luang parade ground in Bangkok, before moving to a nearby gay karaoke restaurant where the waiters could be taken off. Tee was 28 at the time and working free-lance; he had entered bar work in his mid-twenties. Walking home one evening from the construction site where he was working, Tee noticed a sign at the entrance to the lane of the Hot Men bar: ‘Work available. 3,000 baht per month.’ He went in.
I had no idea what the bar was about. I sat in the bar for three days watching before finally agreeing to go off with a customer, a farang. But then when I went out back to change, I ran out the back door. Well, a few days later I went back again and I did go off It was my first time off as well as my first time with a man. Tee, free-lance sex worker and former bar worker (IDI 13/08/97)
For Tee, bar work and being gay were pragmatic choices and Tee wanted to keep his options open - a normal life was still a consideration:
I could have had a normal life, married with a family and, sometimes, I still think about that. But what I like about this life is the freedom it offers me. I can do what I like. I’ve made enough money to build a house for my family. I plan to work for two more years for me... I’ll tell you one thing. Most of the guys who sell sex don’t do it because they are gay. They do it for the money. It is an easier life than working as a construction worker where the work is hard and the money low. I would like to do something else but there’s no way that I’ll return to being a construction worker. Tee (IDI 13/08/97)
127 Nat had been on the scene for ten years (IDI 26/01/97). He had worked both as a go-go dancer and a masseur in a gay sauna. Like Tee, Nat had been drawn to male sex work by the promise of big earnings:
I was walking along and I saw an advertisement [taped onto a power pole]: looking for men (.) tall, paying 8,000 baht per month. I wondered how anyone could make that much money, so I went in. I asked the manager what kind of work it was. He tricked me [laughing]. He told me that women came in for a massage and then he sent me a kathoey as my first customer. I ran away. But then about two weeks later I thought, ‘Others can do this kind of job, why not me?’ At the time I was out of work. So I went back. Nat, masseur and former bar worker (IDI 26/01/97
Outside work, Nat lived with his wife and two sons. He expressed no com punction about his life and he was proud of the fact that he was able to provide for his family and could afford to send his older boy to a ‘good’ school. Unlike Tee and Chan, Nat’s homosexual activity remained peripheral to his life, and in describing his first customer as a kathoey, he separates himself from the customers and displays a sense of 2 his hetero-masculinity.
Chai, on the other hand, was familiar with gay sex before he entered the bars. At eighteen, he had also heard about sex work, but he was unsure about how to get started: So, I asked the head waiter at the restaurant where I was working, ‘Where can I go to make good money? He took me to a bar (field notes 23/12/95). Toon, who self- identified as gay, knew about the bars from his circle of gay friends; for him, sex work was merely an extension of an already active gay career:
When I first went to the bar, I already had some [gay sex] experience. I wasn’t that nervous. I didn’t go alone. Four of us went in together. If you went alone you would feel embarrassed, scared even. But we went in as a group and sat together and chatted until a customer called one of us over... I had experience outside the bar so I didn’t need to be scared [laughing]. Toon, Neon bar (IDI 18/12/95)
Pong, a first year sociology student, had come to Bangkok from Rayong province in eastern Thailand. He wanted to supplement the money his father was able
128 to send him each month, and thereby continue with his studies. But even though Pong reported many years of gay sex and had responded to an advertisement in a gay magazine, he was not fully aware of what he was getting into:
Pong I rang up and asked [about the work]. The owner told me that the bar was accepting applications. So I came in. I didn’t realise that it would be this kind of work. I thought I would be something like a doorman, welcoming the customers and showing them to their seat. Just that. But, no. GS How did you feel when you realised? Pong Well, at first (...) at first it was a shock. I thought about it. I thought about whether I could do it or not. And on the third day I went off with my first customer (...) the first customer. So I wasn’t that happy about it. But it’s work that’s (.) it’s okay. We go with the customers and get paid for it as well. We work for an hour only and we get 1,000 or seven, eight hundred [baht]. It’s better than what we’d get if we worked a day job. During the day we’d get 2- 300 only (...) Okay, we’re men, so we’re not going to lose our reputation (mai sia hai). No one knows what we’re doing. So I can do it. Pong, Oasis bar (IDI 07/01/98)
Like Pong, most of the informants rationalised their decisions to enter sex work in economic terms; the money and hours are simply better than they earn working as a labourer on a construction site, or as a waiter or kitchen hand in a restaurant: It ’s better than what we get if we work in a day job. For students, bar work allows them to attend classes in the daytime while working nights, and to withdraw during exam periods. Some, like Nat, said they entered sex work because they had lost their jobs, or because [if] others can do this kind of work, why not me? Pong and Toon, who both gay- identified, saw bar work as an opportunity to go with customers [have sex with a man] and get paid as well (my emphasis). But Pong also drew on a Thai expression - mai sia hai - that invokes a gendered inequality: a woman is considered sia (spoiled or wasted) when she loses her virginity or if promiscuous; a man is not.
When a worker enters a bar for the first time or moves to another bar, he is required to present his ID card and house registration, before he can sign onto the books. This provides the bar with a degree of insurance should there be any infringement of the house rules or complaints from a customer. While the manager
2 Cf. Reiss (1991, 1964) has described how male sex workers in the US distinguished the ‘queers’ (their customers) from their ‘peers’.
129 explains the rules of the bar, such as coming into work on time or making the customers feel welcome, there is no explicit talk about the nature of the work itself:
Toon At first [the manager] will tell the new boy the rules, such as (...) What time to come in, you have to please the customers (...) A customer has to pay the off fee to the bar before you can leave with him. (...) things like that. He explains all the rules. GS Does the manager tell him anything else? Toon No, nothing. Toon, Oasis bar (IDI 18/12/95)
What is plain from the examples provided above is that the advertisements for bar work are left deliberately vague and may mislead new recruits. Additionally, it appears that the management is also vague about what ‘duties’ the men will be expected to perform. For men like Nat, Tee and Chan, entry into male sex work coincides with their introduction to homosexuality and they had to learn on the job. Chai, Pong and Toon were all gay-identified and homosexually active prior to entering bar work, and appeared able to accommodate this vagueness. Nevertheless, as we will see below, Pong was not prepared for his encounter with a customer who wanted to play rough.
Learning the ropes
Though highly visible, both male and female prostitution remain illegal in Thailand, a factor that impinges on sex workers and their practice. Thus, the bars pro vide a safe haven for the workers beyond the surveillance of the law. They also provide protection for any customer who is concerned about possible dangers associated with cruising in public spaces or who may be afraid of public sanctions (see, for example, Weinberg and Williams 1987). It is the bar owner or manager who intercedes with the police and who pays ‘tea money’ if required. In addition, some managers also look after their workers when they get into trouble. Here, Toon explains how the mama-san came to his rescue when he first started working:
One time I met this farang sadist. He said he wanted to beat me with his belt. I told him, ‘No, I don’t want to.’ He said he would give me 2,000 baht. I said I
130 didn’t want to do that. What for? I was lying on the bed like this [lying back with right arm over his eyes, head turned away]. And he took off his belt and hit me [miming actions] right here [indicating right hip to left shoulder]. I jumped up and ran out of the room. I didn't have my trousers, just my under wear. I ran downstairs to the counter and called out, ‘Help me! Help me!’ I telephoned the mama-san and she came to get me. She bought a pair of trousers for me to wear. Toon, Neon bar (IDI 18/01/95)
But for the male bar worker, this ‘protection’ involves working within a set of regulatory codes so that he remains the Other within the very culture that assimilates him when he agrees to participate in a performance in which he is objectified: he may be ‘man handled’; he may be expected to undress in public; or, he may be asked to participate in a show, which might include, for example, candle dancing, the ‘big cock’ show, jerking off, or fucking on stage. Here Chin describes the show at the J_ bar:
The J_ is known for its floor shows: fire-dancing and eating, a fluorescent body-paint dance, oiled men who grope and caress each other, and a priapric parade of the boys whose penises are tied off at the base to maintain their huge erections. Then, holding onto their engorged penises, they walk single file through the bar crowds.
The Fucking Show here is also more elaborate, more showy. The anal-insertive boy will carry his partner, impaled on his penis, out into the audience, lay the boy on the laps of the bar patrons, and continue to fuck him until a small gratuity is paid. The show ends with a big flourish: the boy still being carried around, blowing kisses to the audience as they exit to count their cash. Justin Chin 1999:145-6 (from ‘Smile’)
Some managers ‘try out’ the workers when they first start in the bar, a practice that is often couched in terms of needing to be able to make recommendations to customers, as Nikon (IDI 13/08/97) explains: The kaptan wanted me to sleep with him. I didn’t agree. So, he wouldn’t cheer [recommend] me to the customers. So, I left. Additionally, in bars operating a call service, it is the manager or kaptan who takes the phone call and who is in a position to favour certain workers. It is important then to be on good terms with the kaptan.
131 The larger bars in the inner city area pay the workers a retainer for turning up and dancing. For example, Superman and Your Boy, two of the inner city bars in the Patpong district, pay the workers 50 baht (approx. Aus$2.50) per night, though this is not paid if a customer takes them off from the bar. The retainer is rarely paid in the suburban bars, perhaps because there are fewer customers than in the inner city.3 The workers also get commission on the drinks a customer orders for them and for performing in the sex shows. However, all payments are off-set by ‘fines’ for breach ing the house rules, which may mean that a worker ends up owing the bar money (see also McCamish and Sittitrai 1997). If they don’t turn up, for example, the workers may be fined 200 baht per evening. There may also be fines for lateness. Service pay ments are due at the end of each month but are usually delayed, a ruse that ensures high attendance and hence a big selection of workers for the customers.
A subtle hierarchy exists in the bars, with the uniformed doormen and waiters seeing themselves as superior to the sex workers (McCamish and Sittitrai 1996). This is an interesting pecking order when one considers that many of the bar staff are them selves former sex workers and may sometimes be taken off though the off fee is higher for one of the waiters than it is for a bar worker. (In Your Boy, for example, the khaa off for a waiter or barman is 500 baht compared to 300 baht for one of the workers).
There is also an hierarchy among the workers themselves with the more ex perienced, who have built up a collection of regular clients or who are taken off steadily, maintaining an aloof distance from their co-workers. Toon reported that when I started [at the Neon] and didn ’t really know anyone, I had to follow the rules strictly. But as soon as we knew each other... it didn’t matter (IDI 18/01/95). Men like Toon, who off regularly, have built up symbolic capital in the bar. For Bourdieu (1972), the notion of capital entails the capacity to exercise control over one’s future and that of others; as such it is a form of power. Conversely, a worker who does not earn for the bar has little power and may be encouraged to move on:
3 Anecdotal evidence suggests that some of the bars have stopped paying the workers for turning up because business is suffering with the economic downturn. The workers are paid if they perform in the shows. These are most common in the larger in-city bars, where the shows have become increasingly more elaborate and continue to draw large crowds. In these bars, a single drink costs 300 baht compared to 200 in most other bars.
132 If a boy doesn’t off for a week, he is advised to try his chances somewhere else. We have to arrive by 8:00 pm. If we come after 8:30 we might get fined forty baht. If we come after 9:00 pm. we are fined [the off fee]. San, Mandrake bar (IDI 27/12/94)
On entering the bars, a worker gains access to a social network of information. If, for example, a worker goes off with a customer and the customer does not pay well or treats the worker badly, then word quickly spreads. If a worker does not want to go off with a customer and can explain why, then the management will often support him. Sam, who was working at the Superman at the time of the interview, explains:
341 GS Can you turn a customer down? 342 Sam Usually, this is not up to the boy. [But] suppose a customer comes 343 into the bar (...) comes in and takes a boy off And he is not good 344 with the boy (...) There’s some sort of problem, (...) [say] he only 345 pays a little. When the boy goes back to the bar, he’ll tell the 346 kaptan that the customer was no good and explain why. Well, next 347 time the customer comes in, the kaptan won’t let the boy go out 348 with him. The kaptan won’t cheer the boy. If the customer says he 349 wants number 23, the kaptan will ask number 23: ‘Do you want to 350 go off with this customer?’ If the boy says ‘no’ then the kaptan will 351 go back and tell the customer that the boy is already booked. 352 GS But does this mean that if you have never been off with the 453 customer and he calls you, then you have to go off with him? 354 Sam If you’ve never known him before? 355 GS Right, suppose you don’t want to go off with him. 356 Sam No, you have to (...) The boys don’t think like that because if you 357 go off with a customer, he has to pay. The boys work for the 358 money. They don’t think that this customer is fat or this customer 359 is ugly (.), or old. The boys aren’t going to think about it too much. 360 (...) They don’t think about it. If a customer calls you over, you 361 have to go. (...) If you don’t go, then you will have another problem 362 with the kaptan. Sam, Superman bar, 23/01/96
In addition, if a worker is not too sure about a customer, he may be able to ask one of his workmates before going off:
Suppose you take me off today and then next time you take another boy. If that boy knows that you’ve been off with me, he can come and ask me, ‘If I go off with this guy, what will he want to do?’ And I’ll tell him... you have to do like this, like this. The boy may say, ‘Ooh, I can’t do that. I can’t be receptive.
133 Then he might go and explain to the kaptan that he can’t go off.\ and the kaptan will tell the customer that the boy is booked already. Sam, Superman bar (IDI 23/01/96)
But not all workers were comfortable talking with their colleagues about what goes on with the customers. Lao, for example, told me he would never talk [about what goes on]. I’m embarrassed. I feel embarrassed about myself (Lao, Your Boy bar, 21/12/95). But in any case, as Sam made clear, this is work, and “If a customer calls you over, you have to go” (lines 360-61), especially if you want to keep on the kaptan’s good side (lines 361-62). At the end of the day, the men are in it for the money and so they try not “to think about it too much” (line 359).
The customer-oriented service protocol operates in all bars and, in general, the workers are given less leeway, especially if they are not good earners, or if the bar itself has few customers. Here Pong talks about the Oasis, a small bar at Saphan Kwai:
171 GS When you sit with a Thai customer in the bar., suppose you are 172 sitting with a customer, what kind of things do you talk about? 173 Pong All sorts of things. Whatever topic the customer raises. We’ve 174 been told not to talk about our work or about how much we will 175 charge with the customers. We can’t talk about these two things: 176 ‘If I go with you, how much will you pay me? If I go with you, 177 what do you want me to do?’ We just talk about general things 178 [like] ‘Do you come here often?’ Or, T haven’t seen you here 179 before.’ If it’s a customer who has been in once or twice, then I 180 might ask him: ‘Where have you been. You haven’t been in to see 181 me.’ And ask him he wants to watch the TV [because] there’s a 182 video in the bar. 183 GS So you don’t have a chance to find out what the customer wants to 184 do before he takes you off! 185 Pong Well with most customers, you know. When they pay the bill, 186 they’ll tell you if they want to take you off or not. 187 GS No, I mean.. Some boys in the bar (...) won’t agree to do 189 everything the customer might [want. 190 Pong [Well 191 GS And if they can’t talk about this in the bar, then they don’t get to 192 explain what they will do and what they will not do, before they 193 go off. 194 Pong We-11 (.) we have to wait and see. If the customer wants to do it 195 (tarn hai) to the boy and the boy doesn’t want to do that, then we 196 have to suggest someone else, find another boy who has a similar
134 197 build, or one who can do it and then recommend him to the 198 customer. If the customer says okay, then there’s no problem. But 199 if [the customer] doesn’t agree, then the kaptan will have to try 200 and convince the boy to change his mind. But this doesn’t usually 201 happen because most of the boys have worked in other bars 202 already so they can usually do whatever the customer wants. Pong, Oasis bar (IDI 07/01/98)
Once the introductions are over, the customer is given the chance to lead the talk (line 173). But there are two topics of talk that have been ruled as unsuitable in The Oasis: how much will you pay me? and what do you want me to do? (lines 175- 77), and Pong obeys the rule of ‘not being serious’ (lines Ml-19). It is the kaptan s job to ‘assist’ the customer in his selection; once a customer has informed the kaptan about what kind of boy he is looking for and what he wants to do (tall, dark and masculine, perhaps) it is up to the kaptan to match the customer’s desires. The worker is only informed about what is expected when he is called over to sit with the customer. It appears that in The Oasis that a worker can say ‘no’, in which case the kaptan will recommend a substitute. But if the customer insists on his first choice, then the kaptan has to convince the boy to change his mind (line 199-200). Obviously it is in the interests of each worker to play the game, make sure the kaptan knows what his preferences are, and keep the kaptan on side.
While the rules are a practised and naturalised part of the habitus of the bar, “the habitus goes hand in hand with vagueness and indeterminancy’' (Bourdieu 1990a:77-78; original emphasis).4 As Weber notes, social agents obey the rules when it is more in their interests to obey than disobey (in Bourdieu 1990a:76) and while most workers ‘play the game’, the rules are regularly transgressed. Pre-work meetings are called to reinforce the house rules. For Tom, the Australian partner at Phantom bar, it’s important not to crowd the customer [and the] informal monthly meetings are not so much for complaints or to single out a particular worker, but to talk to the guys as a group [about] how to be with the customers - not not to ask for cigarettes [before
4 Bourdieu describes the habitus “as the systems of dispositions to a certain practice, is an objective basis for regular modes of behaviour, and thus for the regularity of modes of practice, and if habits can be predicted... this is because the effect of the habitus is that agents who are equipped with it will behave in a certain way in certain circumstances” (1990b:77).
135 being offered one], don 7 say you can do everything if you can 7 (Tom, IDI 25/07/97). Lao, who worked at the Phantom bar, described the gist of the meetings in this way:
In the meetings they told us that (.) when customers comes in, we have to make them feel welcome, not gossip about them (.) that this customer is fat or this customer is old. Don’t gossip [in Thai] about the customers [because] some of the customers speak Thai. Lao, Mandrake bar (IDI 21/12/95)
Your Boy continues to be a popular bar in Patpong and draws a lot of customers and workers. The bar is owned and managed by Noi, himself a former sex worker. Unlike other bar owners, Noi pays his workers at the end of each evening for turning up and he has not instituted a fine system in the bar:
If the boys want to come in and work, then it is up to them. Each boy is paid 50 baht per night for dancing if they don’t off and they are paid at the end of each night. [We don’t] push the boys to off with a customer - if they want to work then they will. We don’t make our money from the off fee. We make our money from the drinks. We charge 300 per drink. That’s expensive. Noi, owner of Your Boy bar (IDI 22/01/98)
During a pre-work meeting I attended at Your Boy, Noi focussed attention on the rules, such as lateness, not being “too pushy” with the customers, but he also talked about self-respect, personal appearance and health. Noi, perhaps drawing on his own experiences sex working, showed a genuine concern for his workers when he reminded them that the high season was drawing to an end and they should think about saving (field notes 19/02/98).
Thus far, I have discussed the rules applying to the workers. But the customers are also subject to house rules. These involve a series of payments, and the customer who enters the door knows what he is getting himself into (unless he has unwittingly stumbled in off the street). Indeed, part of the entrance fee is surrender of his consent to co-presence (Goffman 1963a: 108; Humphreys 1970).5 In addition, there may be an
5 As Sherri Cavan (1966) notes in her ethnography of bar behaviour in the United States, one “can, of course, naively enter settings only to find them something more or something other than what one first supposed. While the patterns of behaviour associated with any given bar may be, and are expected to be, characterised as ‘common knowledge,’ what is actually known in common by all about any given setting may be summary and incomplete with
136 entrance fee at the door to cover the first drink. But in any case, the customer must order a drink on entering the bar. Further, he will be expected to buy another drink if he calls a worker over to sit with him, and he must pay the off fee to procure the worker’s services. With each of these payments, the customer moves closer to taking a worker out and thereby securing the off fee for the bar; he is less able to back away.
Managing impressions
What we see thus far is that the talk between the management and the workers is all about the code of behaviour inside the bar. So how do the boys learn the ropes? And how much do they learn from each other? While the workers reported that they do talk among themselves about different customers and their ‘ways’, they rarely talk in detail about their sexual encounters (Storer 1998a). We might consider this as a pro fessional code of conduct, one that protects the customer’s identity. However, I would submit that acceptance into the discourse community of the bar involves a tacit agree ment to keep the talk light and ‘unserious’ (mai serious); to not think too much (mai tong kbit maak)\ and to avoid talking about anal sex, especially about performing receptive anal sex. In general, the workers named themselves as men, avoiding any stigmatised labels (see also, chapter four).*6 *Conforming * to the practice of being ‘unserious’ “brings additional symbolic profit, that of being in line with or of paying homage to the rules and to the values of the group” (Bourdieu 1990:77). Unfor tunately, this management of impressions (Goffman 1969) can inhibit frank discussions with the workers about male-male sex and associated risk behaviours.
In general then, the talk among the bar workers is characterised by ‘playing around’, and conversational joking and teasing of this kind function to develop a re respect to what could be known, even though what is known may often be adequate for their purposes at hand” (Cavan 1966:5; original emphasis). See also Garfinkel’s description of everyday routines (1964). 6 Cf. Lyttleton (1994) reports that female sex workers in Isaan “maintain a level of privacy” with each other. While the women “often discuss clients and practical concerns of everyday life, they rarely discuss either their pasts or family lives at home.” He concludes that there “appears to be a tacit agreement among the women not to delve into each other’s motivations nor encourage a verbalised exegesis of personal feelings tantamount to self-identification as a prostitute” (Lyttleton 1994:272-73).
137 Iational identity among participants by constructing inside-outside status (Boxer and Cortes-Conde 1997; Eggins and Slade 1997). Joking also provides a mechanism for ‘unserious’ communication, permitting a “recipient to treat the information contained within the joke with a show of indifference that he might find difficult, if not impossible, to maintain were the same information to be communicated ‘seriously’” (Cavan 1966:10). Consider, for example, how three masseurs at Kingsteam demon strate group solidarity and simultaneously enact heterosexual and homosexual desire through group humour (Eggins and Slade 1997:154):
Scene from a club: Lex was sitting in the garden at the Kingsteam Club talking to Tim and one of his friends, Tom. Another friend, Nui, approached and stood behind Tom, with his arm draped across Tom’s shoulder. Nui Have you ever been with a woman and couldn’t get a hard on?= Tom =Yeah, you have to ask her to give head? [laughter from all] Lex, American resident in Bangkok (field notes 07/11/98)
But joking can sometimes turn sour; Noel reported (IDI 08/12/95) that a fight broke out backstage in the Superman one night when one worker called another worker a kathoey, apparently in fun. Maintaining identity for oneself among one’s peers and with the customers is pivotal to being interpersonally competent. In describing his work, Chart told me:
I can do this for the money... it’s very good money. We sell a service. What they want we do. If they want to be fucked, then I will fuck them. But I never let them do it to me. I’m a man. I’m a man who sells a service. Chart, Mandrake bar (IDI 01/02/95)
When Chart says, I’m a man - I’m a man who sells a service, he is not merely posturing nor attempting to rationalise his sex work. By representing himself to a customer in this way, he is negotiating his identity: ‘I’m a man, not a kathoey.’ He is also naming and distancing himself from his customers’ sexuality. Moreover, Chart is engaging his sales talk and negotiating what he is prepared to do: If they want to be fucked, then I will fuck them. But I [won’t] let them do it to me. For some customers, this ‘straight’ masculine imaging would provide a challenge to the encounter and thereby ensure the o/f(Storer 1995, 1999c).
138 Other workers engage in a process of altercasting, whereby they project an identity to be assumed by the customer.7 Presentation of the self is all-important here, and the successful worker will engage in a chameleon-like game in order to pull a trick (Storer 1999c). Maen, who was working the Mandrake bar at the time of the en counter, was quick to align his identity with mine:
Scene from a bar: Who do you want me to be? It is early evening and the bar is just warming up. The workers are sitting around in small groups talking while waiting for customers. Maen is with the only customer in the bar, a farang, who is drinking a beer. Maen looks across the room at one group who are ‘camping’ it up. Then he turns to the customer and speaks: Maen Look at those kathoey. I hate them. GS Why do you hate them? Maen I don’t like gays. GS But I’m gay and I don’t behave like that. But I do like having sex with men. Maen Oh yes, that’s okay. I’m the same. (field notes 04/11/95)
Nevertheless, despite the playful talk, there appears to be an unspoken censor ship at work in the bars: no one is talking about what takes place outside the bar, about sexual practice. I found this disjuncture odd as I expected that “laws of compatibility” (Bourdieu 1977a:651) would operate and that, given the social situation, a discourse of sex work would be apparent. However, on reflection, I now view this quiet as another technique for stigma management (Goffman 1963b: 108). As noted in chapter four, anal intercourse remains a benchmark for ‘the homosexual’ and maintaining a discursive silence about sexual practice allows the workers to resist negative labels associated with homosexuality, and thereby preserve face.
Roger, an American resident in Bangkok, equated membership and relational identity to the marketing niche of the bar:
y Altercasting is a technique for interpersonal control and one which involves a shift in footing (Weinstein and Deutschberger 1963 in Goffman 1981:126-28; Malone 1997:100-19).
139 Roger I think the staff can set the mood in the bar but I think that the guys can respond to that. Guys that perhaps are less inhibited will be more likely to work at some bars than others (.) For example, Tulip has a certain reputation for a certain kind of guy. And if you get some guy with pimples, he’s not going to get a job at Big Boy..... So I think that if a guy is looking for a place to work, he would eventually gravitate to one that he feels comfortable in (...) [where] he wouldn’t be asked to do something he didn’t want to do and that he would fit into what the managers were looking for. GS Yeah, I think your right. But I’m not sure if it’s to do with exclusion or a natural attrition - survival of the fittest. He just wouldn’t get off. Roger You are probably more familiar with the management of the Big Boy than I am but I think they would be excluded from the bar. They wouldn’t get in. GS So you think the management actually knows what their market niche is? Roger I think so. I’m sure that some of the better managers of the bars know what their market is. Like the Tulip, he knows what his market is. (...) But I think the guys would self-mediate. If a guy came into the bar and he didn’t fit in. GS [They wouldn’t accept him. Roger [They wouldn’t accept him. It would be real clear very early on for whatever reason and he wouldn’t last very long, for whatever reason. I mean I’ve seen that where a guy didn’t fit in and the other guys, they just excluded him. Roger, customer (IDI 21/04/97)
As noted earlier, there is a high turnover among male sex workers, and the men drift in and out of bars when they have ‘had enough’ (beu-a laew) or need to return home for seasonal work. But moving from bar to bar is also a marketing strategy that caters to the predilection for a ‘change of flavour’ (plian rot chaat) described in chapter three. Sam thought he had probably worked twenty different bars over a two- year period Understandably, he had problems remembering the names of them all:
Sam I’ve worked in twenty bars. GS Really? Sam Really. GS Oh, I thought you had only worked in the three bars. Sam You only know about [the Mandrake, Neon and Superman]. Ask any of the bar boys, they will have worked in at least 5 different bars (...) All the boys change bars often. If you’ve worked in a place for a while, no one will take you off any more. So, you move and become a new boy at another bar. Like me at the Mandrake. I was an old boy there. When I went to the Neon, I was a new boy again (.) The customers said: ‘Ooh, someone new and they took me off. As soon as I became an old boy there, I went to Joe’s. The customers thought I was new: ‘I’ll take him.’ Sam (IDI 23/01/96)
140 One effect of this high turnover is that friendships among bar workers are based more on social relations (for example, sharing food and drink at the end of the night) than on close bonds, or confined to one or two other workers. McCamish and Sittitrai (1997:53), in their study of male sex workers in Pattaya, noted “a fierce independence” among the workers, and a “separation of sharing the good and containing the bad.” As a consequence, friendships in the bars are often fragmented. Some workers said they would share accommodation with others from the same village but not with friends from the same bar; fierce competition can lead to jealousy and a falling out. All of this works in the customer’s favour as his anonymity is ensured. But (as discussed in chapter four) it does not point to any cohesive sense of community among the bar workers.
Naming the bars
Oh, just one thing. We don’t say brothel here. We say bar. Lawrence Chua Gold by the Inch (1997:12)
Male bar work in Bangkok provides an interesting linguistic context if we distinguish those bars found in mainly tourist areas (such as in Patpong) from ‘local’ bars, generally found in suburban areas, for the customers in the tourist bars are both Thai and non-Thai. This provides a complication for the workers who may be called on to interact in their first language, Thai, or in a second language, usually English (Storer 1998a, 1998c). While non-Thais also frequent the local bars, they tend to be resident in Thailand and speakers of the language. Alex, an American businessman resident in Bangkok, suggested that different discursive conventions are at work in the local and tourist bars.
I think the boys [in the local bars] are more used to a regular clientele. They don’t operate in a vacuum so to speak, as the boys in the tourist bars do, where a tourist may show up and they may never see him again (.) They are very aware of who the regular customers are. They are aware of the Thai social norms of behaviour. They know how they should treat a regular customer. Alex, customer (IDI 01/07/97)
141 Like Alex, Brad, a long-time resident in Thailand, saw himself as one of the ‘locals’ and part of a neighbourhood community:
[In] the neighbourhood community gay bar, which I prefer, to go into (.) the Mandrake or Crows Nest (...) the owners know you. The boys know you. Everybody is relaxed. All of the commercial and social relations are done. So there’s no hassle. There’s no bargaining. There’s no cheating. The owner trusts you and by word of mouth, the boys trust you, and the boys tell other boys that you are a trustworthy person. It’s not going to be kinky, violent sex. Ah (...) It’s not going to be risky sex. It’s going to be a fair price. Ah (.) a repeat purchase as they say. So, I prefer that kind of neighbourhood gay bar. Of course, there’s the straight, tourist kind of industrial bar... where you go in and there’s a fish bowl, twenty or thirty boys. It’s pure commerce. They’ll never see you again and you’ll never see them again. It’s a one-off purchase. And I go to those sorts of places for theatre, for performance [smiles]. Or camaraderie, to go with friends who want to go, sort of Thai style - to see and be seen. Brad, customer (IDI 19/08/97)
For Brad, the local bar is relaxed and removed from the pure commerce of the inner city tourist bars. Another difference that Brad points to is that the inner city tourist bars are more about performance. As far as I know, all of the inner city Patpong bars are go-go bars and live sex shows are featured nightly. But these distinctions between tourist and local bars are based on notions of inclusion and ex clusion and imagined communities; the ‘regulars’ know where to find these local bars and they are ‘known’ to the bar staff. The unwitting tourist, on the other hand, is con fined to a one off purchase. However, as Lisa Law (1997:108) notes in her description of the Philippine female go-go bars, the ‘tourist’ bar space “is far from being clearly indigenous or foreign; it is neither and both depending on how it is framed and experienced.”
Nat, who had been on the scene for ten years, described the bars from a worker’s perspective when he named the bar ten (lit. dancing bars or go-go bars) and bar nang (sitting bars). This is a central distinction for the sex worker, for in the bar go-go (Figure 5.1), the workers can move about and cruise the customers. They also learn to perform the displays of masculinity that will attract a customer’s attention when they dance. Clad only in briefs, a worker will admire his looks in the mirrors, run his hands through his hair, or work a hard on, all with an apparent air of in- difference to his surroundings and the men who gaze upon his body. But this is also work and any sign of appreciation by a customer earns a smile and an approach once the worker finishes dancing.*8 * * * * * * i O J
Figure 5.1 Bar go-go
In the bar nang (Figure 5.2), however, the workers must sit to one side and wait to be ‘called over’ or for the kaptan or mama-san to intervene. Often, the workers do not look at the customers at all, but at a television screen mounted onto a wall.9 Nat went on to explain that the bar nang is better for a worker starting out, one who lacks the experience and confidence to interact directly with customers: But once you have g Some managers allow new guys entering the bar scene to sit to one side, especially if they are “too shy” to strip down and go-go dance. Toi, the manager at the Mandrake, would allow the new workers to sit at the back and watch as a way of easing them into the bar. This apprenticeship would continue for up to a week, when the new worker would be told he had to dance. But usually the workers quickly realised for themselves that go-go dancing would increase their visibility (and hence marketability), and they would pin a number to their underwear without coercion. (See also McCamish and Sittitrai 1997:24). 9 There is a notable similarity between these ‘local’ male sex bars and the more ‘traditional’ female massage parlours, where the female sex workers sit watching television or chatting among themselves, while the customers and mama-san gaze upon them from behind a two- way mirror.
143 the confidence, the go-go bars are better as you don’t have to rely on the kaptan to cheer for you (...) you can work yourself (IDI 26/01/97). Thus, while the bar nang might help a new worker get started, it also takes agency away from the worker and gives it to the kaptan. 'or
Figure 5.2 Bar nang
I asked Sam to elaborate the worker’s position further and compare his ex periences in the Mandrake (a suburban go-go bar) with the Superman and Neon (two Patpong go-go bars). In so doing, he further revealed the work of the kaptan:
190 Sam At Mandrake (...) the boys can be free with the customers (...) When 191 the customers come into the bar, you can go and join the customers. 192 You can't ask the customers to buy you a drink, or ask for some of 193 their drink but you can go and sit with them. As many boys as want to 194 can sit with the customers. At Neon, it’s the same as Mandrake. You 195 can go and talk with the customers. You can chat with the customers. 196 But it’s different (.) it’s different at Neon. It’s not so polite (...) 197 GS What do you mean by that? 198 Sam I mean everything (.) is not polite. 199 GS For example. 200 Sam For example, when you approach a customer. At Mandrake, if you go 201 up to a customer, the customer will sit like this, the boy will sit like
144 202 this [showing boy sitting alongside customer] (...) and they’ll chat 203 together. But at Neon, it’s not like that. The boys will hug the 204 customers, kiss the customers, rub themselves up against the 205 customers, let the customers touch their cocks. Because at the Neon, 206 you’re in your underwear and so the customer can push their hands 207 into your underwear. You rub yourself up against the customer to try 208 to turn him on. As soon as the customer is turned on, you get him off. 209 That’s how it’s different. At Superman, there’s none of that. It’s very 210 polite. The boys can’t approach a customer (...) unless the customer is 211 a regular. If you come out front and see a regular, you can go up and 212 say hello and then you leave him. You can’t sit down with the 213 customers and try to get him to take you off It’s a rule. 214 GS Why do they have this rule? 215 Sam Because the [manager] knows (...) knows that in gay life (...) gay men 216 like to change [partners] all the time. (...) For example, if you take off 217 number 23 today and you weren’t satisfied, you don’t want him again. 218 Next time you go to the bar, you want somebody different. But when 219 you go to the bar (...) Suppose you go and number 23 thinks that you 220 took him off last time so you’ll take him off again (.) so he comes up 221 to you and fusses around you. This will put you in a bad mood. You 222 want to take another number but number 23 comes and bothers you (.) 223 He might ask you to go off or whatever. You don’t feel good, right? 224 So you won’t want to go back to the bar again.
370 Sam You go into any bar and as soon as you sit down the waiter will come 371 and sit with you. They want to make money right. They want to make 372 a lot of money. If a customer goes into the bar, he has to off one boy. 373 If there are ten customers then they have to take off ten boys. But the 374 bigger bars aren’t that interested because they’ll have 100 customers 375 so they are not so fussy.
378 GS How did you feel when you first went to work [at the Neon]? 379 Sam At first, I felt (.) Okay, it’s like Midnight. But after I had been 380 working there a while, it was too much (...) We had to go and ‘Oh, 381 Oh’ with the customers. Whether we wanted to or not, we had to: 382 Take me off naa?’ I used to sit by myself, just sit there. But the 383 kaptan would come and push me to approach the customers: ‘Hey, 384 you’re just sitting there, sitting there smoking a cigarette. Why? Go 385 up to one of the customers. Go and talk to a customer. Get an off ’ Sam, Superman bar (IDI 23/01/96)
For Sam, the suburban bar (the Mandrake), is more relaxed than the inner city bars, as the boys can be free with the customers... You can’t ask the customer to buy you a drink, but you can go and sit with him (lines 190-93). Sam describes the Superman, an inner city bar, as very polite (lines 209-10): the workers can approach
145 the regulars and say hello but then they must move away - that is the rule (lines 211- 213) - for the manager knows that gay men like to change partners all the time {plian rot chaaf, lines 215-16). This is in sharp contrast to the Neon bar, where the kaptan’s job is to push the workers and customers together. The Neon is definitely hands on and the boys hug... kiss... rub themselves up against the customers [and] let the customers touch their cocks... You rub yourself up against the customer to try to turn him on. As soon as the customer is turned on, you get him off (lines 203-208).
In the next section, I will explore further how the kaptan works the bars, mediates negotiation and maintains the protocol of service.
The work of the kaptan
Scene from a bar: Kaptan Do you like big or small? Toi I like big. Kaptan And on the bed, do you like to fuck the boy or be fucked? Toi I like to fuck. Kaptan Okay, let me see. (...) Let me go round one time and have a look. [The kaptan moved down near the stage for a moment and then returned.] Take that one in the jeans sitting in the middle. He’s not so big but he can do everything - guarantee. (field notes 05/01/97)
One evening I met with three Thai customer informants for dinner, and we talked about their experiences buying sex from men. Afterwards, they took me to a bar where they were regular customers. The kaptan immediately came over and began to talk. At one point, Toi (one of the men) asked the kaptan to recommend someone. ‘What do you like?’ enquired the kaptan. ‘You know what I like,’ was Toi’s quick reply. He seemed miffed (field notes 05/01/97). Later, when I talked with Alex (one of the farang informants) I realised that the protocol of service had been abrogated - it is the kaptan’s job to know the local customer’s likes and to ‘match’ their sexual preferences:
146 Alex For a regular customer in a Thai bar, I think the key person is the kaptan. Because, it’s his job to know individual customers’ preferences and to remember, maybe not in precise detail, but to remember the overall pattern of a customer’s buying behaviour, [laughs] To use marketing talk. GS [Sure Alex [And it depends on your mood of course, but he can facilitate things fairly quickly. He can say, ‘We have a new boy. He looks your type. He looks like the guy you took last week.’ Or, ‘He’s new but sexually he’s very accommodating.’ Or whatever. He can ah (.) more or less cut (. pinpoint the boys that are in his bar within the 20 or so, 30 or so who are there... he’ll have information on the history of the boys’ off For example, has he been off with another boy before? Can he do it with another boy in the bar? Can he stay overnight? And if he’s not very friendly and accommodating, the kaptan will have that feedback from his customers and though the boy may look very cute, he may say, ‘Well this guy isn’t very good. The service is not as good as another guy.’ And that’s important. Alex, customer (IDI 01/07/97)
For someone like Alex, this protocol of service ensures ‘accountability’: The kaptan knows it is in his best interests to please [the regular] customers [and] One of the moves is to make it clear to the kaptan what you want and how you want it /IDI 01/07/97).
Charlie’s bar nang in Saphan Kwai is camp in its decor: each table is covered with lace and a vase of plastic flowers; and the walls are busy with bric-a-brac. Despite of, or perhaps because of, the camp, Charlie’s has long been popular and maintains a bevy of boys and a gaggle of regular clients. Like most other kaptan or mama-san, Joh works on commission. He has a reputation for being good at his work - he was commended by Alex and Bird, both regular customers at Charlie’s - and earns enough to cover his living costs as well as tuition fees at a private university. Here we see Joh working a potential customer:
Joh Where have you been? I haven’t seen you for long time. Grant I’ve been away. [Small talk to re-establish that Grant had been in the bar previously with Alex.] Joh Let me recommend the one in the black shirt near the front with a lovely face and very good service. He can do everything. I cheer [him] for you, okay? Or the white T-shirt. Very good service too and very big. I don’t know what you like. Grant I’ll just sit for a while. Grant, New Zealand visitor (field notes 27/08/98)
Joh has an exceptional memory; he was able to remember Grant’s face after almost a year’s absence and could re-establish the connection to Alex, a regular at the bar. Bird commended Joh because he could recall a customer’s ‘buying pattern’ and ‘what he likes’:
I like to go to Charlie’s bar as the kaptan knows what I like (.) muscular and accommodating... I can go back and complain if I want to and the kaptan will always ask me about the boy’s performance... And I can ring the bar and the kaptan will send out a boy I like to my apartment. Bird, Thai hotelier (field notes 24/11/98)
But when Joh is unsure about the customer, then his gambit is to offer his ‘best’ (I cheer for you) and quickly narrow the field down to two contrasting options. By asking the customer to choose between the lovely face who can do everything and the white T-shirt who is very big, Joh’s dialogue is constitutive and calls on the customer to participate and disclose his interests.10 But not all kaptan can claim to serve their customers as well as Joh does, and many of the customer informants complained that they found the kaptan too pushy and more interested in making a sale than in paying attention. Brad highlights their concerns. He also highlights the manner in which language mediates the negotiation process:
177 GS How does the customer manoeuvre in these [two] different spaces? 178 Brad Well, it’s the difference between a small shop and a large department 179 store. It’s the difference between you and your money. Right away, 180 they are trying to sell you drinks, as many as possible, and to get a 180 boy to sit next to you so that you buy a drink for the boy. That’s two 181 sales. The third one is for you to buy off, to buy out at least one or 182 several boys from the bar. So, in general, that’s the ah (...) that’s the 183 (...) the captains in those industrial bars are salesmen. They’re really 184 trying to make a sale. Turn those tables around. There are three shows 185 a night. Move those tables. Turn those tables, get them out of the door 186 as soon as you can and move your stock. That’s (...) that’s a purely
10 Drawing on Schegloff and Sacks (1974), when we open a conversation we invoke a turn taking machinery that provides for the conversational relevance of both talk and silence.
148 187 commercial transaction (...) The kids are geared up. The young kids 188 who work in the bars, they see you (...) usually, often the captain or 189 the madam will push an undersold boy at you or they will try to force 190 someone to come over and sit with you. Or they will ask what you 191 want, what services, what body type you want. And then they tell you 192 what services the [workers] will perform and they will tell you, ‘Oh, 193 they can do everything.’ But you see language makes a big difference 194 in the relationships. Because I know that those expatriates who can 195 speak Thai and who have a reasonable social interaction with people 196 (...) it’s a different relationship with people than ah (...) three 197 Japanese or Korean gay men who walk in and have no language. It’s 198 just different. Brad, customer (IDI 19/08/97)
In general, the expatriate customers and in particular those who were unable to communicate in Thai, expressed discomfort with the kaptan’s attention. Jay, an American visitor, said that he felt compromised and that the commercial nature of the interaction become too obvious (field notes 24/02/98). Others said that they felt they were being rushed or that they had to commit to an off Colin, a regular visitor to Thailand, put it this way: “We feel that if we ask a boy over then we can’t send him back” (field notes 03/01/97). For Gary, the bar nang was disarming and unlike the bars of New York:
When the guys are sitting there and not showing any interest, I’ve got no idea what they are like. And then if I call one over and he just sits there, I don’t know whether it’s a language problem or if he is just dull. When I took Neung off from the Your Boy the other night, he approached me. He’s marketing himself. There’s the difference, because then the boy ‘works.’ Gary, customer (field notes 02/01/98)
Following Bourdieu, linguistic “competence depends on one’s ability to access and control... the language of authority” (Bourdieu 1977a:648). Further, “[s]peakers lacking the legitimate competence are de facto excluded from the social domains in which this competence is required, or are condemned to silence” (Bourdieu) 1991:55) Thus, the expatriate visitor, unable to speak Thai and unfamiliar with the modes of practice operating in the bars, is at a loss for words in the linguistic market place. This ‘linguistic silence’ imposed on the expatriate customers may explain in part why many workers claim to prefer farang customers (de Lind van Wijngaarden 1996; McCamish and Sittitrai 1997). Thai speakers, on the other hand, aware of the Thai linguistic
149 norms and class structure, are more able to ‘see through’ the performance and peel away the workers’ mask of accommodation (Goffman 1963:155). Information control in sexual encounters is a technique for stigma management and protection from bio graphical disclosure (Goffman 1963b; Humphreys 1970). Noi summed it up this way:
The boys prefer the farcing because the Thais want to know too much and ask too many questions about the boy’s past and family details. The boys don’t want to disclose their personal lives in this way. Generally, the farang customers do not look down on the boys. The Thais do. Noi, owner of Your Boy bar (IDI 22/01/98)
In the next section, I focus attention more specifically on the talk that goes on in the bar when a worker makes a move to get a customer out of the bar.
An experienced hand
Leap (1996, 1999) has looked at the linguistic and cultural rules that structure the discursive interactions between gay men in health club settings, including the gaydar-initiated conversations", negotiations of gender disclosure and the shielding effects of turn taking. Particularly noticeable were the forms of silence - the gym is after all a place to work out - which included offering minimal responses to another’s talk, complying specifically with site-specific topic-avoidance rules, introducing hedges and pauses at the beginnings of conversations and throughout the exchange, or not saying anything at all. But a range of non-verbal practices “through which gay men can still initiate gay disclosure and against which they can evaluate the suspect gay status” (Leap 1996: 117) underpinned this verbal silence. Was that flexing of the biceps too drawn out? Was that towel draped ever so casually over the shoulder? How much time was spent carefully soaping the body in the shower? While such signs are hardly subtle, they are a prelude to verbal disclosure. Talk when it begins is ordinary, almost banal - a news item, something about the weather - but is generally
11 Leap (1996:51) describes gaydar as “the negotiation of suspect gay status and mutual confirmation of gay identity.” Musto (1993:120) is more direct:“the art of spotting sisters no matter how concealed, invisible or pretending to be straight they are.” For an historical perspective of ‘gayspeak’ and its relation to ‘camp’ talk and Bona Polari, see Cox and Fay (1994).
150 accompanied by further non-verbal signals like eye contact or posturing. These may be followed by more performative statements (such as, ‘Great biceps.’ or ‘Your quads are looking good.’) that establish “the subjective presence of these attributes - even if the descriptions are not completely accurate in an empirical sense. By commoditising the partner’s presence in the erotic moment, the speaker increases his own control over the exchange” (Leap 1996:121-2).
In a commercial gay setting like the off bar, one would imagine that there would be less need for such protracted and cautious word play. After all, the men are presumably there for the same purpose and, in that sense, disclosure of sexual orien tation is not a risk. But the control of personal identity has been shown to be of equal concern in other gay public cruising sites, even when they are exclusively gay spaces (Delph 1978; Humphreys 1970; Santana and Richters 1998; Weinberg and Williams 1975). Indeed, I found the talk that goes on in the bars to be rehearsed, with little or no deviation from the form. I asked Roger, an American teacher living in Bangkok, to comment on the talk that typically takes place in a bar.
134 GS What’s a typical kind of script when you go into a bar? 135 Roger Well you go to the bar (...) You sit there and have a drink. You make 136 eye contact with half the guys, half the boys in the bar. You chat with 137 whomever you went with (.) if you went with someone, another 138 foreigner: “He looks good. This person looks good. He’s sort of my 139 type.” And then you have someone - you could either motion 140 someone over. Ahm - a lot of the time the host would come over and 141 say: ‘Well who do you like. What kind of guy do you like? Do you 142 like old guys? Do you like young guys? Do you like lady boys? What 143 do you like?’ Which I would try to avoid - dealing with the host. I try 144 to exclude the host, if I can. Ahm, and then you deal with ahm (.) you, 145 you can motion someone over either with your eyes or with your 146 hands and they come over and you chat with them (.) and if you get 147 on with them, there’s a (...) they of course will always be the first one 148 to bring, I guess “Well can I go home with you tonight? Where, where 149 do you stay? Where’re you from. What’s your name? Where do you 150 stay in Bangkok? Ahm, “Is this your boyfriend?” If you’ve come in 151 with anyone. Ahm. “Can I stay with you tonight?” And then you get 152 into the (.) You know, ‘Well, how much is that?’ ‘Well, it’s up to 153 you.’ But it’s really not. [laughing] And then the host may get 154 involved, if you’re not familiar with the bar, to find out what’s the 155 appropriate tip. What am I supposed to be paying this person? I mean 156 I’m not (.) I’m very self-conscious about that. I’ll always ask (.) I
151 157 imagine a lot of people are not. It wouldn’t make any difference (...) 158 and then you negotiate - I learnt very early on to negotiate if you’re 159 going to come for a short time or for all night...
173 GS And what do you think he’s saying when he asks you, ‘where do you 174 live?’ Is there a sub-text there? 175 Roger Oh, yes. Definitely. He’s asking if he can get into the hotel, no 176 problem. And if not, then a whole set of scripts come into play. For 177 example, if he can’t go to the hotel. Like if I said I was staying at the 178 S_ then there would be no problem at all. But if I said I was staying at 179 the R_ then he wouldn’t get in and so he’ll be thinking about short 180 time rooms up stairs or going to another hotel. Roger (IDI 21/04/97)
Roger’s script begins with a non-verbal prelude (lines 135-9) when he settles down with his drink and looks about: Is there anyone of interest tonight? At this point, the kaptan approaches, but Roger prefers to work alone and so the kaptan moves away. When Roger spots someone of interest, he engages in eye contact, perhaps smiles encouragingly. Once the worker approaches, there is a period of orientation (lines 146-51): Where do you come from? How long have you been in Thailand? Is this your boyfriend? These seemingly innocent about-the-edges questions allow the worker to establish his presence and control over the linguistic exchange. But they are also informative for the worker, and he may already be ‘reading’ the answers. If the customer has been in Thailand for a long time, the worker may switch into Thai. ‘Is this your boyfriend?’ will ascertain if the customer is available or not; if he is not available, the worker can then move on to cruise other customers who are not tied up. Alternatively, the question might lead to talk about a three-way and the worker can move away if group sex is not part of his repertoire. Roger’s analysis of the sub-text to questions about where he stays (lines 175-80) is revealing. According to Roger, the worker is already planning the off: will he be able to get into the hotel without being stopped at the front desk?; will he be expected to travel out to the suburbs?; can he get back in time to meet up with his friends?; and so on.
But slowly, the worker moves in: ‘Can I sleep with you tonight?’ Note that the worker’s answers to questions about price (or what he will do sexually) are left vague - ‘Whatever” (arai kor dai) or even ‘It’s up to you” (laew tae khun) - and allow the customer to take the lead. Most customers said they would always want to probe at
152 this point - ‘whatever’ does not mean that the sex will be anal or overnight but rather, ‘let’s wait and see’. At this point, Roger may call on the kaptan to help complete the transaction. After only a year in Thailand, his Thai is still not good enough to go it alone and it is important he gets what he wants. Once agreement is reached, the worker goes to get dressed in his street clothes and signs out of the bar. Before coming back to the customer, he may tell his mates that he is now working and arrange to meet them later.
Who speaks to whom?
A detailed analysis of the possible discursive interactions among the various actors in the bars is given in Appendix IV. The analysis builds on a framework developed by Ehlich and Rehbein (1974) that delineates the actions, interactions and decision points for the various actors in a restaurant. Applying the framework to the bars, the actors are the kaptan, the sex workers, the customers, the barman and cashier (though the barman and cashier do not generally interact directly with customers and are, thus, secondary to the analysis). Actions may be either verbal (such as ordering a drink), or non-verbal (such as watching a worker go-go dance or ‘catching an eye’). Interactions describe ‘doings’ that occur between (at least) two actors. There are two commodities of exchange in the bars, boys and booze, and it is the job of the kaptan to expedite their flow, and thereby maximise the number of payments returned to the bar - Would you like another drink, sir? Which boy would you like?
In the bar nang, the kaptan mediates the negotiation process so that the inter actions between a customer and worker are confined initially to non-verbal communi cation. In the bar ten, however, the customer has the option of either interacting directly with the worker or asking the kaptan to mediate. This means that distinct types of interactions occur in the bar nang and the bar ten. More significantly, in the bar nang, the interactions between a customer and worker are confined initially to non-verbal communication. In the bar ten, however, the customer has the option of either interacting directly with the worker or asking the kaptan to mediate.
153 Unfortunately, the negotiation that takes place between the customer and kaptan excludes the worker, who may find himself committed to a sexual performance which is outside his preferred sexual repertoire. It is important to remember that penetrative sex cannot be taken as the norm in male sex work encounters, and for the worker there is a constant juggle to please the customer, negotiate sexual practice and ensure payment (Storer 1999a). This is an important distinction and one that con founds heterosexual presumptions about the active insertive male. As one ‘straight’ man commented to me after a seminar in Bangkok, not agreeing to anal sex [in a male sex bar] is like running a fruit [sic] shop and not selling bananas (field notes 03/03/1997).
For the male bar workers, the ‘protocol of service’ requires that they please the customers (ao jai khaek; taam jai khaek). But some workers, especially those with less experience or no self-esteem, believe that the protocol of service does not allow them to negotiate with the customer, that the customer is always right. The situation is further complicated when the worker does not have the necessary English language skills to speak for himself. When Jiap first started working the bars, the manager would negotiate with the farang clients for me before we left the bar. He would ask the client what he wanted to do and then say what I would do. After a while, I could talk for myself though I’d have to depend on ‘hand’ language (IDI 23/01/95). In some cases, not being able to communicate in a second language proves disastrous:
One time a guy burnt me with his cigarette (...) He wanted to hit me. I could just say: ‘No, no.’ I can’t really speak English. Another man wanted me to hit him hard and to spit on him (.) So I spat on him (.) twice. He was saying: ‘Good, good.’ I didn’t even know what that meant. Now I do. 1 didn’t like that. Chart, Mandrake bar (IDI 01/02/95)
But even when the worker is confident and seemingly in control, negotiation remains replete with ambiguity.
154 Concluding remarks
In this chapter, I have broadened the concept of the bar as a community of practice (Swales 1990; Gee 1992), and shown how the discourse conventions op erating in the bar not only display group membership but also act to organise and regulate the bar talk. Thus, on one hand, the bars provide workers and customers with a measure of protection outside the law and beyond public gaze; on the other, they constrain the workers to act within a set of regulatory and discursive practices. In fact, little or no negotiation takes place in the bar itself. The main concern of the workers is to ‘turn the customer on’ and ‘get him out of the bar’ as quickly as possible (Sam 23/01/96) and thereby secure payment. (The significance of this finding will be further elaborated in the next chapter.)
I have also shown how the different uses of space in the bar go-go and the bar nang structure the discursive interactions between the sex workers and their customers in different ways: in the bar go-go, the workers are able to move about and actively cruise the customers, whereas in the bar nang, it is the kaptan who mediates the negotiation and sells a particular service to the customer; the workers are stripped of agency and dependent on the kaptan to cheer them. For the customer, this protocol of service ensures ‘accountability.’ Generally, the negotiation that takes place between the customer and kaptan excludes the worker and he may find himself committed to a sexual performance for which he is unprepared or which he is, perhaps, unwilling to carry out. This can lead to disagreement later on (McCamish and Sittitrai 1997). Some workers, especially those with less experience or those who lack self-confidence, believe that the protocol of service does not allow them to re-negotiate with the customer outside the bar. The situation is further complicated when a worker does not have the necessary language skills to speak for himself. Penetrative sex can not be taken as the norm in male-male sex encounters, and negotiation for the male bar worker means negotiation of sexual practice, sexual safety and payment, all of this while satisfying the protocol of service and pleasing the customer.
In conclusion, while the bars provide a shelter for both workers and customers, in which conventional concerns about being ‘caught out’ no longer figure in identity management (Delph 1978:110), the discursive interactions occurring in the bars
155 between the workers and their potential customers are constrained.12 Three reasons might account for this restraint: first, language (or lack thereof), and a lack of familiarity with the modes of practice operating in the bars, can inhibit the interactions between the expatriate customers and the sex workers or bar staff (notably the kaptan). Second, the fear of being turned down brings about some caution and a worker does not ‘throw himself at a customer if he feels there is a chance of public rejection. But third, and more significantly I believe, it is the customer’s search for an erotic ideal - his quest for the 914 out of 10 man - that contributes most to the discursive constraint in the bars.
As a controlling device, silence modifies situational communications and inter actions (Goffman 1963a), focussing them on the visual and ‘audible’ character of erotic significations (Delph 1978: 22-23). Thus, the bar worker relies on a set of escalating visual cues to capture a customer’s interest. The initial erotic glance may be followed by a second and longer look, or a smile that says ‘Yes, I am interested in you.’ The worker can then step up the pressure and run his hands across his pecs, rearrange his underwear or work a hard-on, work that could communicate to the customer, ‘You turn me on’ or, perhaps, ‘This is for you, mister.’ For the sex worker, becoming familiar with the discourse of the bars is as much about learning these visual cues as it is about learning to ‘small talk’.
In this chapter, I have been concerned with how the bars structure the discursive interactions among workers, customers and managers inside the bar. In the next chapter, I will turn my attention to how workers and customers talk about their interactions outside the bar and how workers manage their customer interactions. I will also examine the meanings workers and customers attach to their work-related and recreational sexual encounters.
12 Delph (1978:25) has observed a similar phenomenon in the gay disco or the sauna: “Even though the gay bar is a wonder of noise, a mixture of loud chatter and blasting music, the individual patron dissociates himself from the consociate circles and verbal sociation and enters the arena of silent discourse during erotic manoeuvring. The bath, brimming with immediate accessible bodies, is [also] characterised by silence... [even though] the intentions of the actors... form a single erotic frame of reference.”
156 six
Talk about the Bars
[It] is only partly an accident of the English language that we lie to the people we lie with. Doniger (1996:663, original emphasis)
Negotiating desire
What became apparent in chapter five is that the negotiation that takes place in the bars between workers and customers prior to the off is limited and replete with ambiguity. In chapter five, we saw how the kaptan plays a central role in mediating the interactions between workers and customers, and how the bar talk is, in general, characterised by its restraint. We also saw how joking and ‘unserious’ talk among the male sex workers themselves serves to deflect attention away from their work and the taboos around verbalising anal sex. The imperative is to get the customer out of the bar as quickly as possible, thereby securing the khaa off for the bar and payment for the worker. Thus, a worker may agree to a particular sexual performance and then attempt to renegotiate the deal outside, a strategy that can prove effective in the inner city bars where there is a high turnover of tourist trade. The Neon Bar in the Patpong locale, for example, tacitly endorses this way of working, and a notice informs the customer that management ‘does not accept responsibility’ for what goes on outside (though the notice is not prominently displayed). For Toon, the competitive edge associated with
157 re-negotiation is part of the game, and he was confident about his ability to manage his interactions outside the bar:
This is the idea of the boys, okay? If someone asks: ‘Can I fuck you?’ (..) First, you get off from the bar (.) Once you are off (.) the bar will not accept any responsibility. Outside the bar, it’s up to your ability. If you can do it then go ahead, right? You can try it with me but I can get out of that. You have your ability. I have the ability to say ‘no.’ Toon, Neon bar (IDI 18/12/95)
However, this strategy - first you get off - is less effective with regular clients or in the ‘local’ bars, where the protocol of service favours the customers.1 Bird, a Thai customer informant, elaborated in this way:
There is no negotiation in the bar. The boy will go with me because that’s what I want. It’s up to me and what I want. The boy is obliged to follow my wishes. Bird, Thai hotelier (field notes 24/11/98)
In addition, it is not unusual for customers like Bird to report back to the kaptan when things do not work out:
I like to go to the Hung bar as the kaptan knows what I like (.) muscular and accommodating... I can ring the bar and the kaptan will send out the kind of boy I like to my apartment... I can also go back and complain if I want to do that, and the kaptan will always ask me about the boy’s performance [whenever I return]. Bird (field notes 24/11/98)
Whereas chapter five focussed attention on the discursive interactions that tran spire within the bars among the sex workers, customers and kaptan, prior to the off this chapter will be concerned with the interactions between the workers and customers after they leave the bar. My intention in the first instance will be to show how the bar workers and their customers talk about the sex session itself, and then to draw on this talk to highlight the meanings that workers and customers attach to their
1 I define a regular customer as one who takes a worker off more than twice. In some cases, the second or subsequent meetings are planned, even if only indifferently - See you again. In both commercial and non-commercial sex encounters, people can and do have concurrent regular partners.
158 sexual encounters. In particular, I will explore the basis for decision making about when to engage in particular kinds of sexual practice and attendant understanding of risk. I will show that knowledge of safe sex and an understanding of the perceived risk of HIV infection are not sufficient in themselves to ensure the practice of safe sex. I will contend that understandings of intimacy and associated issues of trust and control are more important predictors of sexual practice. Other predictors include prior ex perience of safe sex, the language of interaction (Thai or English), self-esteem and identity, the protocol of service, and value systems.
A starting point for this chapter is the assumption that all consensual sexual activity is negotiated, and that despite the odds, sex workers develop strategies to manage their customer interactions successfully and to limit the sexual activity that occurs during the sex session. In order to learn more about these strategies, I will return to two of the research questions outlined in chapter one: what are the critical moments in the negotiation between the workers and their customers and how are these discursively resolved? I will also examine further whether or not male bar workers deploy different discursive strategies to manage their Thai and farang customers, that is, when they interact in their first language or in English. I will begin by examining understandings of risk, as these have been explicated in studies of Thai men’s drinking behaviour.
Get the bar out of the boy
It happened to me one time that (..) He said the condom was slipping. And I put it on again [moving hand down between his legs]. When he did it, I couldn’t tell. (..) We had been drinking (..) If there’s a lot of KY you can’t tell. After he had finished he got up and went to the bathroom (.) He had his hand like this [holding his hand in front of his groin]. So I didn’t know if the condom had been on or not. A few days later I went for a check up and found out I had a discharge. Since then, I never have sex without a condom. Sam, Superman bar (IDI 23/01/96)
A number of researchers who have investigated the role of drinking as a social process in sexual encounters in Thailand, maintain that Thai men consciously consume alcohol to reduce inhibitions that constrain their interpersonal interactions with women
159 and with each other, and to enhance their• sexual pleasure. 2 In a more recent study of men in northern Thailand, Fordham (1998) emphasises that the public drinking script constitutes normative behaviour and provides a space for structuring the self. Further, Fordham (1995, 1998) argues that while rituals of drinking and eating together are common among Thai men before visiting a brothel, they are more to do with the constitution of male identity and the testing of sexual potency than with sexual release.
Fordham’s work is a significant contribution to understanding how culturally defined expectations, social context and setting interact with each other to influence behaviour, and he clearly demonstrates that there is much more to sexual relations than the pursuit of pleasure. However, his conclusion that entreating men to be socially re sponsible will not have the desired impact in a “social context which places a high value on risk taking” (Fordham 1993:45) has been challenged by Allen Beesey (1997), who counters that such arguments homogenise men in the same way that the initial Thai Government HIV/AIDS campaigns homogenised men. For Beesey (1997), what is missing is the understanding that responses to risk are determined by various self definitions of masculinity, which gain meanings from both class and social structures. It is these various self-definitions and class and social structures that I wish to explore for the remainder of this chapter
I begin with the assumption that negotiation of sexual practice is a social process and that risk is better understood as episode-related and occasional (rather than being tied into one particular factor like drinking). My second assumption is that psychosocial models of risk are limited in understanding the culture of male sex work (cf. Bloor et al. 1992). My intention will be to argue that male sex workers and their customers make decisions about their sexual practice based on an internal logic (cf. Browne and Minichiello 1994) that may be at odds with ‘externally imposed’ under- standings of what constitutes sexual safety. As McKirnan et al. (1996:655-56) attest:
2 See, for example, Muecke 1990; Sawangdee and Isarabhakdi 1990; Havanon et al. 1992; Longcharoen 1992; Celentano et al. 1993, 1994; Chayan 1993; Nopekesorn et al. 1993; Vanlandingham et al. 1993, 1995; Pramualnratana et al. 1994; Fordham 1995, 1996; MacQueen et al. 1996). A constant tension in public health is that what makes sense for the larger population may not make much sense to the individual. Douglas has argued that risk is the “bridge between known facts of existence and the construction of a moral community” (1990:5). Like Beck (1992), Douglas’ (1990) conceptualisation of risk as an external danger is in direct contrast to
160 Sexual safety is an externally imposed diet; few people use condoms or abandon desired activities due to an intrinsic motivation. Rather, sexual safety is typically maintained by considerable cognitive restraint that may not require a very powerful external stimulus to break down. McKirnan et al. (1996:655-56)
One possible reading of the behaviour that Sam describes above - a reading we find in the work of Celentano et al. (1994) - is that Sam is attempting to rationalise his risk behaviour, by implying that drunkenness leads to a ‘slip’ in sexual control. That is, drinking reduces inhibitions to sexual risk taking by providing a socially acceptable excuse for non-use of condoms. Following the work of Vanlandingham et al. (1993, 1995), a second (and moralistic) perspective would assert that Sam is ‘hiding behind’ his drunkenness: I couldn’t tell. We had been drinking. I would suggest that what is going on here is more complex than either of these readings allow. In describing his work to me, Sam distinguished his ‘one off customers from his ‘regulars’ {look khaa prajam). With most customers, the boundaries of the interaction during the off remain clear: I’m not interested in their personality, not interested in what they look like... This is my business... I work in the bar for money (IDI 23/11/96). But with regular customers, the boundaries change, and the off might involve leaving the bar to visit a karaoke club and/or drinking and talking together, in addition to the sex. In recounting what had taken place, Sam made it clear to me that this was not the usual quick off, but one that had involved time spent talking together, and the chance to relax.
During the course of the research, I saw several groups of men (particularly in the suburban bars) open up a bottle of‘black’ (whiskey), which they would then drink in the company of several bar workers. Informal ‘parties’ of this kind alter the worker- customer relationship, and a worker may ‘measure’ the customer by how much he is willing to spend in addition to the actual payment for sex, which in turn may affect his sexual performance (Dr Yothin Sawangdee interviewed 24/11/98).*4 McCamish* * (1997),
public health messages, in which risk is internally imposed and the responsibility of the individual to control. The institutions of public health and health promotional discourses “routinely draw a distinction between the harm caused by external causes out of the individual’s control and that caused by oneself (Lupton, 1995:90). Lash and Urry (1994) have criticised these formulations for their implicit under-socialisation and individualism. 4 Note that the research on drinking as a social process has centred on male-female encounters and female brothel attendance, and there may be significant differences in encounters where men are buying sex from men. For example, while there is ample evidence that men do go out
161 in his study of male sex workers in Pattaya, has suggested that whereas commercial sex in the West is charged by the clock (Boles & Elifson 1994), time is less important in Thai commercial sexual encounters and the workers can slip effortlessly and un- problematically from hustler through escort to kept boy. Tony, an English man resident in Bangkok, reported that on leaving the bar, he would deliberately attempt to change the boundaries: I always take the boys for a game of snooker or for a meal first. You’ve got to get the bar out of the boy (field notes 29/08/95). Other customers spoke of “taking a group of boys out to dinner” (Len, IDI); “going to the beach to gether for the weekend” (Lex, field notes 21/12/95); or “going dancing at DJ” (Grant, 14/07/99). It’s when the customer decides that he is out for a good time’ in lieu of (or as well as) sex and when the worker agrees to ‘go along’ that is of interest to me here. When and why does the nature of the transaction change? What decisions are being made and by whom? When does one customer become ‘a regular’? What is the basis for keeping another customer at bay? And how are the boundaries between work and companionship maintained?
On no, I don’t kiss
An assumption I made when formulating the research was that it would be easier for bar workers to negotiate sexual practice with Thais, with whom they share a common language. But in a study of male sex workers in Northern Thailand, De Lind van Wijnngaarden (1995) suggested that farang customers are less likely to insist on anal sex. McCamish and Sittitrai (1987) reported similar findings for male sex workers in Pattaya. Joe and Chai, two sex workers from the Mandrake bar, endorse these find ings:
With Thai customers it is difficult. They expect us to do everything they want. With farang it is easier. We can agree. Usually the Thai want to have anal sex (..) With Thai it is necessary to agree everything before leaving the bar. With the farang you can just go. Joe, Mandrake bar (IDI 27/12/95)
to the male sex bars in groups, they also go to the bars alone. In fact, I have not found that a culture of drinking together in groups beforehand predominates.
162 Sometimes I off with a farang and sometimes with Thais. Going off with Thais and non-Thais is not the same. The Thais like to fuck. They like to get drunk and sometimes get rough. With farang I am more confident. They usually ask you what you like to do. Chai, Mandrake bar (IDI 11/01/95)
Earlier, I proposed that gossip is pervasive and a predominant concern in Thai society and that male bar workers remain aware of their low social status and cultural capital as men selling sex to men (chapters one and four). Noi, the owner of Your Boy bar and a former sex worker, said that male bar workers prefer farang customers because the Thai customers want to know too much and ask too many questions about the boy’s past and family details (IDI 22/01/98). With non-Thais, by contrast, it is easier to maintain a distant relationship and to “pass” as ordinary guys (Goffman; 1963:108; Feinberg 1992). Further, male bar workers are less able to control the negotiation of sexual practice with their Thai customers because they remain con strained by Thai social strata and by the value given to maintaining 'smooth inter actions', 'image' and 'appearance' (Komin 1990; Morris 1994). Viewed in this way, the farang are seen as undemanding and easier to manage. Freed from concerns about being unmasked, the male sex worker is able to exert more control over the inter actions with his farang than with his Thai customers. Here, Sith, who had worked his way out of the bars, reflects back on his experience:
With the Thai customers, it was’ easy in that we spoke the same language and so we could easily understand each other. But sometimes, even though we spoke the same language, we did not understand each other. Sometimes the Thais would come in stressed and then make us feel bad. At least with the farang we got to practise our English. Sith, former sex worker (IDI 27/01/95)
John, a frequent visitor to Thailand, found the language, or lack thereof, a real barrier to negotiation and to ensuring a match between a particular body style I liked and sexual performance (lines 246-7). In America, John felt more in charge than he did in Bangkok (lines 266-7).
221 John ...some of the boys were willing to talk about [what they would do 222 sexually] and some of them weren’t. But again my Thai was not good
163 223 enough. I didn’t know how (.) I didn’t really know if that could be 224 spoken about. And so, in the beginning I think I took boys home (.) 225 and really (.) they were sort of more in control of the interaction than I 226 would have ever let them be back in America. Because here (.) well 227 here they were more in charge, whereas in America, I felt more in 228 charge. Ahm but still, in America the boys are in control but really you 229 feel that you are not at their mercy as you do in probably all the sex 230 bars (.) [where] they’re really going to show you how far you can go 231 and what you can do. And they’re going to set the limits. And you feel 232 like they’re not negotiable (.) whereas in America, you feel like you 233 can negotiate it and that’s because of the language.
243 John [When I first went to a suburban bar nang], I didn’t really like it. I 244 couldn’t figure out if I was going to like it (.) going to like this boy in 245 bed or not. And it seemed like more of a gamble than the Patpong bars 246 where I could see what I was going to get. At least I was going to get 247 the body style I liked, even if I wasn’t sure that I was going to get the 248 performance. 249 GS Mm-mm 250 John Ahm the boys (.) well certainly most of the boys speak more English 251 in the Patpong bars than the boys in the suburban bars (..) So that’s 252 how it was for me in the beginning ahm= 253 GS =Let me just ask you a question about that. You were saying that (.) in 254 the States, for example, if you go with a hustler, he sets up his 255 parameters with you, verbally, before you go. 256 John Before you go. Yes. 257 GS Before you go and he exercise control in that way but that you are (.) 258 you are part of that control, of the negotiation, whereas here (.) ahm 259 the worker exercises control because there is none of that negotiation. 260 John Right. You can’t negotiate that ahead of time. So when you get him 261 home, he says: ‘Oh no, I don’t kiss.’ Or ‘Oh no, I don’t get fucked.’ 262 GS Mm-mm 263 John And ahm (.) there’s no arguing because you can’t verbalise it. John, American tourist (IDI 14/05/98)
John makes an important distinction here. In America he feels like he is in charge - that he is part of the control, part of the negotiation (lines 258) - because the parameters of the interaction are determined in advance. But still, in America the boys are in control but... you feel that you are not at their mercy (lines 228-29).5 By
5 A study of the clients of male sex workers in three Australian cities (Minichiello et al. 1999:511) is informative here: “The idiom of the client’s power over the sex worker is not personalistic, nor indeed primarily sexual, but economic. The client can only draw the male sex worker into his world with money and only money frees the client from the codes and
164 contrast, not being able to negotiate with a Thai bar worker ahead of time makes the interaction more of a gamble (line 245). It is only when you get back to the hotel, that the worker will show you how far you can go and what you can do (line 230-31) and then, there ’s no arguing because you can’t verbalise it (line 263). It seems then that keeping the negotiation vague in the interactions with non-Thai speakers, may be a strategic move for the male bar worker. This is in sharp contrast to the findings from a study of male sex work in Glasgow, which found that safer sex was associated with sex worker techniques of power, such as stating a price prior to the session (Bloor et al. 1993). Conversely, unprotected sex and violence were both associated with client control, and covert and ambiguous sexual encounters permitted customers maximum discretion over the terms and conditions.
Not all farang are good
Farang customers like John are not going to attempt to coerce a worker to en gage in anal sex. But as the workers were quick to point out, not all farang are good, and it was my impression that power differences were often heightened when the customer was a non-Thai and where issues of language, or lack thereof, became critical. Pat, unable to speak English, was reliant on a Thai-speaking customer to ‘help’ him over the hurdle of his first off But other farang customers were less ‘con siderate’, and when he met one who wanted to play rough, Chart was unable to com municate at all:
conventions which shackle him in his non-commercial sex encounters.” The worker retains the privilege of saying ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to entering the client’s world.
165 I've been in the bar for less than six months. At first I was a little nervous. I didn’t want to go off with anyone. I just stayed to one side of the bar. After three days an Australian man came in who could speak Thai. He said he would teach me what to do. So I went off with him. He helped me out. After a while I got used to it... My biggest problem is English. All I can say is: I know. I don't know. That’s all. One time a guy burnt me with his cigarette. He wanted to hit me. I could just say: ‘No, no.’ I can't really speak English. Another man wanted me to hit him hard and to spit on him (.) So I spat on him, twice. He was saying: ‘Good, good.’ I didn't even know what that meant. But most of the customers are good. Chart, Mandrake bar (IDI 01/02/95)
For someone like Lao (IDI 21/12/96), the problems he encountered were two fold: first, he lacked the English language skills to negotiate sexual practice with his farang customers even though most of his customers were farang. Second, Lao appeared to be locked into the notion that he must satisfy the protocol of service and thereby preserve the ‘good’ name of the bar:
Once I met (.) a sadist... He didn’t go gently. He pushed it right in. Pushed it right in and then bit me here, bit me there [indicating his shoulders]. It really hurt. I couldn’t stand it. Okay, I couldn’t stand it but I had to put up with it (..) because he was a customer. If I really couldn’t stand it (..) If it had been a Thai, then I would have been angry. I would have to like (..) I would have had a fight for sure. But this is a farang customer. And another thing, I’m worried that the bar will get a bad name. I have to put up with it. Lao, Your Boy bar (IDI 21/12/96)
Additionally, I found farang customers would readily reach for a cultural cloak to explain away any hitches or mis-communication in their interactions with workers. One Australian tourist, for example, talked about an altercation that had transpired between himself and a worker when he had playfully hit the young man on the head. A serious fracture in communication followed. This is a taboo in Thailand, he warned me. Thais never touch the head of another person. Had I been better informed, this would not have occurred (field notes 18/01/98). But there is more than cultural ignorance in attendance here. How many farang would we ‘playfully’ hit on the head - our peers? Inadvertently, or otherwise, the Australian had emphasised the social distance between himself and the worker, thereby reinforcing his ‘superiority’ and power. Not surprisingly, the worker reacted with anger.
166 Avoiding risk
Looking good
Despite increased awareness of the risk of HIV infection among new and ex perienced workers, decisions about unprotected sex continue to include the perceived ability to 'know’ a person's HIV status: I have to always look at the customer carefully. I have to see who looks clean (doo sa-aat), who is not. And then decide what I am going to do. If he doesn't look clean then I don't do much - maybe just jerk him off. If I had a customer that I didn't like the look of and he wanted me to smoke (give head), I would tell him I couldn’t as I had an ulcer in my mouth. Joh, Mandrake bar (IDI 27/12/94)
On the one hand, Joh still looks at his customers to see who is clean; on the other, he has developed a strategy for avoiding oral sex and thereby to manage risk of STD infection. As noted previously, image and appearance are given considerable privilege in Thai social contexts, with the latter being marked linguistically by such terms as ‘cleanliness’ (.sa-aat); ‘speaking politely’ (poot proh)\ and behaving ‘properly’ (riap roi). In a cross sectional study of male go-go bars in Patpong (Bangkok) and Pattaya, Biehle (1999) found a strong association between condom use and a ‘handsome’ customer.
The ability to ‘know’ a sex partner is also significant in non-work encounters. Here Grant talks about a non-commercial relationship he had with a waiter in one of the bars:
Grant I was sleeping with a waiter working at one of the bars where the waiters could be taken off. Some nights I would go to the bar and pay to take him out, though I wasn’t paying to have sex with him. Other nights I would wait for him to come in from work. It was our third meeting and we were rolling about in bed. I asked him for a condom and he said: We don’t need to use condoms now. We ’re lovers. I must admit I was both shocked and flattered. I mean flattered by how he was seeing the relationship. GS Why was that? Grant Well, because it was like, ‘This is my lover.’ And partly because I wanted to say ‘yes’. And because of the safe sex thing. GS So how did you react? Grant I suggested we should both test first before giving away condoms, and we
167 moved on. I don’t think I being good - more like avoiding the issue. We didn’t discuss it again. Grant, New Zealand tourist (field notes 03/01/97)
Grant was both shocked and flattered by the offer of anal sex without a condom. It is significant, I believe, that he emphasises the nature of the relationship before the safe sex thing. For Grant, the exchange signalled a change in investment in the relationship and an unveiling of intimacy, understandings of confidence and trust
(Bastard and Cardia-Voneche 1997). Grant went on to say that his shock was as much about realising that he wanted to say ‘yes’. Also significant, I believe, Grant reported that we didn’t discuss it again.
We can only surmise what Grant’s partner was thinking here, but we do know that male sex workers in Bangkok are careful to distinguish between commercial and non-commercial partners, and are more likely to use condoms with their customers than with their casual non-commercial partners (Thai Red Cross unpublished report). Decisions about condom use/non-use are also dependent on the type of sexual activity: reported condom use during anal sex is high, while reported use during oral sex is low. Further, Biehle (1999) reports that while the majority (65%) of male bar workers reported using condoms regularly during sexual contacts, there is a strong positive association between condom use and higher fees. Further, as I will argue in chapter seven, the condom has become an emblem of sex work and a marker of prostitution to be avoided in non-commercial encounters.
168 Figure 6.1 Cover of National AIDS Bulletin (vol. 7/1 1995) showing an early Thai MoPH condom campaign: Sanuk dai mai tong siang (You can have a good time without risk)
169 Use a condom every time
Male bar workers must continually balance sexual performance and sexual safety. But they also need to pay the rent and, as described above, economic livelihood for a male bar worker may be improved by a willingness to engage in high risk sexual activities:
309 Lao Talking about [HIV] (..) I’m scared. Most of the time (suan maak) 310 when I go with the customer I always have to use a condom (tong chai 311 took khraang). 312 GS Mostly you use a condom, but a few times you do not. 313 Lao Well, yes there are some times. 314 GS How do you decide when to use and when not to use a condom? 315 Lao Mostly I have to use a condom every time. 316 GS Right. [I understand that. 317 Lao [Right 318 GS But sometimes we forget. This happens sometimes. Why is that? Why 319 do we decide some times not to use a condom? 320 Lao Because, if I go and sleep with a customer (.) Suppose I go with a 321 customer and I have one condom with me (.) Suppose that the 322 customer wants to do it twice (.) There’s no condom (.) This is what I 323 do (.) So, for the money I decide to do it (..) I work like this for the 324 money. 325 GS Do you usually receive or (..) 326 Lao Give and receive. 327 GS Both. 328 Lao Both (..) Because if you go with a customer and he wants you to 329 receive (.) If you don’t let him then he’ll be angry (..) He’ll (.) Like (.) 330 He won’t be interested. He’ll tell you off. I’ve taken you off already 331 and you can’t do it. If you can’t do anything, why have I taken you? 332 So, I have to agree. Lao, Your Boy bar, 21/12/95
Despite his fear of HIV infection, Lao constructs unprotected anal intercourse as an occupational hazard and rationalises his behaviour in economic terms, even though he is able to reproduce the message that consistently runs through the Thai
HIV/AIDS campaign, namely to use a condom every time. In Lao’s case, risk is not being managed, but denied.
170 Some bars program safe sex by giving their workers one or two condoms and a sachet of lube when they off with a customer (condoms that are made available to the bars through the Thai Ministry of Public Health). Like many other workers, Lao does not carry his own supply, so that when he goes off he only has the one condom supplied by the bar. Thus, while Lao understands the need to ‘always’ use a condom 0tong chai took khrang), he acknowledges his inconsistency (most of the time; lines 309-311), especially if the customer demands a second round. Perhaps, because of a lack of confidence or an inability to articulate boundaries, Lao would stay with the customer until he was sent home. It had not occurred to him that he might demand payment and leave once the customer had cum. Other workers, as we will see below, prove to be more expedient with their service and thus more able to exercise control.
The fact that bar workers do not always use condoms during the sex session does not necessarily indicate instances of unprotected sex, but is a reminder that penetrative sex is not the norm in all male commercial sex encounters, and that the session may simply entail masturbation, frottage, or an erotic massage. However, Pradith, the owner of the Oasis Bar, suggested that supplying the bar workers with free condoms has resulted in complacency and inattention among the workers themselves, and he complained that none of the workers carry condoms other than those given out by the bar. Pradith devised a strategy to ensure that his workers would have condoms; he made up a pack with a sachet of lube he bought commercially along with two government-issue condoms, which he then sold to each worker for twenty baht when they went off Buying the pack was mandatory because, as he explained: I used to give them condoms for free but they just threw them away if they didn’t need to use them. Now they keep [the extras] so that they always have condoms with them (field notes 07/01/98).
Lao may not carry his own supply of condoms, but what we learn from his talk is that his customer had also come to the sex session unprepared. When I suggested to Pradith that he might give condoms to the customers with their change, he felt this would be confrontational (and, presumably, bad for business). Thus, the customer remains the silent partner and outside the target of bar-based interventions. Roy, a frequent visitor to Thailand, supported this position:
171 GS Do you think there is safe sex culture among the [bar workers]? Roy Well, the bars program safe sex through the boys. They supply them with condoms and lube and the boys have regular checks every week, or every month (..) I don’t know which. GS But what about the customers? What about giving condoms to the customers? Roy [Grimacing] I don’t know about that. Roger, English tourist (field notes 09/01/96)
Not all customers set out to deliberately coerce the workers, and many were able to describe instances when they had played a positive role in encouraging safer sex. Noel, an expatriate resident in Bangkok, explained how he reacted to a chance offer of unprotected anal sex:
Noel In Superman bar there is a lot of unprotected sex going on. I took a young man off recently who was from Surin [province, Isaan]. He was 20 and just discovering his sexuality. He wanted to sit on me without a condom. GS How did you deal with this? Noel There’s another boy in Superman who has his eye on [the one from Surin]. The boys in Superman sometimes get off with each other. I’m going to talk to him and tell him to teach the other guy about safe sex. Why is there so much unprotected sex at Superman? It’s an older established bar and there have been interventions there in the past. What are the boys saying to themselves? I’m tattooed and therefore protected? My amulets will protect me? Noel, resident in Thailand (IDI 08/12/95)
In Noel’s experience, there was a lot of unprotected sex going on despite past interventions. Fortunately, Noel had thought through a response. Knowing that workers sometimes get off together, he planned to ask one of the ‘old hands’ to teach the younger worker. Brad, another expatriate resident, noted that: there seemed to be a lot more kinds of HIV/AIDS education going on ... several years ago. But nowadays, I don 7 think there ’s much formal training going on in the bars. There ’s blood testing, I guess. But I don 7 think blood testing is (.) It’s not educative. (Brad, IDI 19/08/97). But therein lay a problem: the interventions were in the past and were non-continuous (ref. Chapter one; McCamish et al. 2000).
I argued previously (Storer 1999a) that the male bar workers from the suburban bars seemed less sure of health issues and less prepared to negotiate the off with their customers than those from the Patpong bars, and I suggested that this might reflect the
172 fact that many younger men apprentice themselves in the suburbs before moving to the more competitive inner city. However, I believe now that this distinction reflects the force of the protocol of service operating in the bar nang (which are more common in the suburbs) and the manner in which the kaptan mediates the interactions between workers and customers. Here John explains:
In the Saphan Kwai bars, the Thai bars (.) Alex told me and he’s absolutely right, the boys are (.) much more (..) willing to perform and to please you. And they are trained (.) or advised to do everything. And they generally do. Or they will try, much harder than the Patpong boys try. They just (.) they really (.) They come expecting to do everything, whereas the (.) many of the boys from Patpong come expecting to jerk off and leave. John, American tourist (IDI 14/05/98)
But, in any case, new workers are to be found in either location. Noel’s ex perience occurred with a new worker, just discovering his sexuality, which suggests that interventions need to be conducted regularly and continuously in all bars. In addition, It can not be assumed that blood testing, a requirement in many bars, leads to a greater awareness of HIV/AIDS or that all men will test on a regular basis. Testing is not mandatory, and some of the informants, like Chart for example (IDI 01/02/95), expressed concern about testing, saying that they preferred to leave it up to fate (ploi tammachaat dee kwaa). Regular testing only makes sense in an environment where an HIV positive person can adopt strategies to manage his health and where access to treatment and care is not prohibitively expensive.
What’s love got to do with it, got to do with it? (Tina Turner)
Being able to compartmentalise feelings and to distinguish work-related and recreational sex is important for all sex workers. Toon, who was supporting a lover and financing part-time studies with his earnings from sex work, explained that he holds his feelings in reserve with his farang customers and is out of there as soon as possible:
335 GS What are the most times you’ve been off in one night? 336 Toon I once went off four times.
173 337 GS Four times? 338 Toon Yeah, but I didn’t cum (.) I just put on a condom. 339 GS Four times but you don’t always cum? 340 Toon Right. I went off with a farang customer (.) Real old (.) Like 60 years 341 old. Who would have any feeling? 342 GS Why did you go with him? 343 Toon For the money. 344 GS Did you make him happy? 345 Toon Hh? 346 GS Did you make him happy? 347 Toon I don’t understand. I made him cum. 348 GS You made him cum? 349 Toon Yeah. As soon as he had finished, I got the money and got out of there. 350 See you again. I was out of there.
379 GS Is it different when you go with a Thai or farang? (.) Is it different? 380 Toon Usually with Thais I won’t go off unless I like them (.) Like (..) When 381 I go with farang, I’m not interested if I like them or not. If I like or 382 don’t like (.) I’m not choosy. (.) Just go off and come back (..) 383 Because it’s (.) How is it? (.) Farang don’t really like us, right? 384 GS I don’t know. 385 Toon Farang don’t really like us (.) Ah (.) In my opinion (.) I think (.) 386 That’s all. As soon as I get the money, we go our separate ways (dai 387 ngern laew kor yaek thaang). 388 GS You mean that Thais do like you? 389 Toon Thais can talk together and understand each other. 390 GS Mm. How do you mean? 391 Toon What? (.) Suppose that we are together and we get on well. (.) Like 392 this, right? Then we might spend some time together. (.) Spend time 393 together, without any problems. Toon, Neon bar (DI, 18/12/96)
For Toon, the farang is a ‘once up’ and there is no need to be choosy (line 382), nor is there room for commitment: As soon as I get the money, we go our separate ways (lines 386-87). But with Thais he is more selective and he does not go off with a Thai unless I like him (line 380) because there is the possibility that we get on well and spend some time together (lines 391-93). In fact, being selective is relatively easy for workers in the Neon, a bar go-go, for while the customers are looking over the boys when they dance, the boys are also looking back at the customers, catching an eye or offering a smile. When they step off the stage, they decide whether or not to approach a customer directly, or to avoid the customer’s gaze by moving away into the shadows of the bar space.
174 Toon goes on to talk about instances of unprotected anal sex: he begins by reporting that one of his friends in the bar, Kop, apparently encouraged customers not to use condoms during anal sex because they reduce pleasure (lines 492-93). In Toon’s experience, the farang customers usually have their own supply of condoms, though it is not clear if he is implying that his Thai customers do not. Like Joh (above), Toon’s decisions about high-risk behaviours are based, in part, on appearance and his ability to tell a person’s likely HIV status (lines 510-11).
488 GS I’ve also heard that some boys go off with the customers and don’t use 489 condoms. 490 Toon Maybe a lot? 491 GS A lot. Why is that? 492 Toon Sometimes (.) Some people (.) Some people like anal sex and when 493 they wear a condom it is not pleasurable (mai man. Man my theungjai 494 mangl) Well okay. There’s (.) a friend of mine in the bar, called Kop. 495 He likes (.) He will ask (.) If the customer want to wears a condom he 496 doesn’t want to go. Like this, really. 497 GS Mm. Are there many who off without condoms? (..) Do you? 498 Toon Whv? 499 GS Have you ever (..) Sometimes? 500 Toon [quietly] With Thais, sometimes. Sometimes. [But] with farang, I 501 always use a condom. 502 GS Always. And when you off who suggests using a condom (.) You or= 503 Toon =1 always carry condoms. 504 GS Yes? 505 Toon But usually the farang have condoms. 506 GS When you go with a customer and you don’t use a condom (.) how do 507 you decide whether or not to use a condom? 508 Toon You mean with the Thais? 509 GS Yes. 510 Toon Usually, I look at them first. Are they likely to be positive, unlikely to 511 be positive? (Naapen mai, my naa pen mai) Like this. 512 GS Why don’t you want to use the condom? 513 Toon [quietly] I don’t know. I want to use [one] but my heart is not in it (jai 514 jing my yaak chai). 515 GS Why is that? 516 Toon It’s not pleasurable [laughing] 517 GS Not pleasurable. Toon, IDI 18/12/95 I return for a moment to the concerns I raised in chapter two about the research process and sociological interview: “the aim of language research in the community must be to find out how people talk when they are not being systematically observed; yet, we are only able to obtain these data by systematic observation.” In chapter two, I discussed the sociolinguistic interview as an arena which constitutes individuals as both topic and resource and, in so doing, makes exotic or problematic the everyday life of the interviewee. In this way, the research interview becomes more than a context for eliciting a participant viewpoint. It also embodies ‘gaze’ (Foucault 1977, 1980) and ‘voice’, which socially construct the participants (both interviewee and interviewer) and structure the outcomes of the interview.
Thus, while Toon is constructing the farang as the source of infection, he is also constructing his identity and mine. The fact that he speaks little English means that his interactions with his farang customers are necessarily limited to the com mercial transaction; this, in turn, allows him to preserve the boundaries of intimacy he has constructed around his relationships with Thai men. He can be intimate with his Thai customers, if he so wishes, but the farang remains an outsider. By association, I am reminded of my outsider status as a non-Thai, non-sex working researcher.
We should not read Toon’s laughter at the end (line 516) as a lack of regard for himself, but rather as a sign of his embarrassment. Self-examination in the presence of others is an emotionally charged discursive event. These are uneasy admissions and we see his responses swing from the emphatic Why (line 498), to the assertive and overlapping turn taking (line 503), to the subdued I don’t know... my heart is not in it (lines 513-514). In their work on bureaucratic discourses, Sarangi (1995, 1996) and Sarangi and Sembrouk (1996) have shown that such shifts in talk can provide a lead to the multiplicity of role configurations which may occur in a stretch of discourse and thus make visible relational asymmetries. Toon’s participation in the interview is shaped as much by his perceptions of his role in the interview process as it is by the external authentication of his responses, in this case by my reactions. He starts out as an ‘expert’ informant and one who can relate instances of high-risk behaviours among bar workers (his friend Kop). However, when he reveals himself, a ‘shift’ takes place and he becomes the transgressor. In seeking further information, I challenged the legitimacy of Toon’s ‘voice’. Not surprisingly, then, the interview began to unravel at
176 this point and I shortly turned off the tape so that we could talk together about what advice he might give to Kop. When we were discussing Kop, I asked Toon about the health officials who come into the bars: ‘What advice do they give?’ Nothing, he replied. They give out brochures. Toon further challenged the interview frame when he commented on researchers who ‘come to ask questions’: There was someone who came once to carry out an interview, [but] that was it. He was never seen again (IDI; 12/02/96). We need to ask ourselves what informants can expect to get back from such a research economy.
During the interview, Toon revealed that his boyfriend regularly cruised the beats while Toon was at work. A few days later (field notes 21/12/95), he called to report that his boyfriend had started seeing someone else on a regular basis. His con cern was not with his lover’s ‘infidelity’, however, but with the regularity of his current dalliance and with preserving the relationship and its validation of his well being. At the same meeting, Toon reported that he had spoken to Kop, and he asked me for further details about HIV transmission and safe sex practice. Thus, while the interview had proved to be uncomfortable for both of us, it had provided Toon with the opportunity to talk about and subsequently reflect on his behaviour and ex periences. I will develop this theme further in the next section, where I will argue that the potential for reflection provides an opportunity for other bar workers to rationalise their ‘life world’ (Thompson 1984:294) and to address their personal strategies for managing their interactions with their customers.
Managing risk
An obvious critical moment in the interactions between a bar worker and his customer occurs if the customer tries to pressure the worker to engage in unprotected anal sex against his volition. At this critical juncture, the worker must call on a set of discourse strategies in order to try to manage the interaction. Such strategic choices are often made unconsciously but triangulation of the data provides a technique for making these choices explicit and thereby open to analysis. In this section, I will look at the discourse strategies deployed by two workers, the first from an inner city bar go-go and the second from a suburban bar nang.
177 They’re all the same (bar go-go)
Sam, from Superman, an inner city bar go-go, had been a sex worker for two years at the time of the interview. Here he talks about his interactions with customers who demand unprotected anal sex:
619 GS Sam, some of the boys I talked with told me that the customers say 620 things like: ‘You don't have to worry about me. I'm clean. I go to 621 check my blood often. There's nothing wrong with me.’ 822 Sam I've met this many times. I think that 70 percent of my customers 623 speak like this. Pee sa-aat. Pee pae condom. Sai laew khorng mai 624 kheun. Pee my chorp chak wao. Pee chorp ao. Tong ao sot. Took khon 625 ja poot yaang nee. [Older brother is clean. I am allergic to condoms. 626 When I put a condom on, I don't get a hard on. I don't like to jerk off. I 627 like to do it. It has to be fresh. They’re all the same.] Sam, Superman bar (IDI 23/01/96)
I would point to two features of Sam’s discourse. First, note the repetition of pee (older brother or sister); pee and nong (older and younger respectively) are commonly used to substitute for T and 'you' and can express familiarity. However, they also reinforce the importance accorded to age difference and thereby retain the hierarchical structures implicit in the more formal pronouns in the Bangkok-Thai language (see, for example, Charoensin-o-larn 1988). Second, note how Sam's customers reportedly focus on appearance {I’m clean)', their personal needs {I don’t like to jerk off, I like to do it); and their sexual performance (/ won’t get a hard on), rather than on risk assessment. In addition, condom sex is not ‘fresh’ (read unnatural) and may result in an allergic response. Thus, Sam has to construct a reply that will challenge his customer's status as well as explain to him that he has got it wrong. Fortunately, Sam's response is well rehearsed:
628 GS And what do you say when this happens? 629 Pong What I say is, ‘How many people do you have sex with and not use a 630 condom? And if I say yes to you, how do you know I won't say yes to 631 another person. I just have to meet one person who is HIV+ and it will 632 spread to many others.’ Sam (IDI 23/01/96)
178 What makes Sam's strategy effective, I think, is the way that he positions him self in relation to the customer. He first asks how often the customer has unprotected sex (a gentle reproach, perhaps?) but then quickly switches responsibility to himself: If I say yes', and, I just have to meet... and it will spread (lines 630-632). Sam positions the sex worker, and not the customer, as the transmitter of the virus. Thus, he makes his point and 'smooth’ interactions are maintained (Storer 1999a).
Just like everyone else (bar nang)
Pong, a first-year sociology student at a Bangkok university, was supporting his studies by working at the Oasis bar nang. Although he had been working for only two months at the time of the interview, Pong had already formulated strategies to manage his customer interactions. For Pong, the lack of negotiation in the bar prior to the off seemed not to pose a threat. Here, he reports on how he reacted the first time a customer said he wanted to do it without a condom:
200 GS Mm-mm. Have you ever been off with a customer who has asked 201 you to do something that you didn’t want to do? (..) 202 Pong What I didn’t want to do (.) But it is only with some people, 203 someone I haven’t been with before or someone that I don’t know 204 well, what I don’t like to do is smoke [give head]. Apart from that if 205 the customer wants to do it to me, then I’ll ask him to put on a 206 condom. He has to be safe. If he doesn’t agree, then I won’t either. 207 GS Has this ever happened? 208 Pong (..) Yes, with a Thai. I asked him why he didn’t want to use a 209 condom. He answered just like everyone else: ‘It’s not fresh (mai 210 sot). I might not be able to perform. I won’t enjoy it as much, (sai 211 laew klua sia cherngjai, klua mai theungjai). My response was, ‘If 212 you not going to use a condom, then I’ll leave.’ He replied, ‘You 213 don’t trust me? Don’t you trust me (mai nae jai pom reu)T I said, 214 ‘It’s not that. No, it’s not. But do you trust me (man jai pom reuf! 215 (.) Are you sure that I’m safe, a sex worker (dek khai)T He said he 216 didn’t know but that he never had to use a condom with others. He 217 wouldn’t budge so I said I would leave and that I didn’t want the 218 fee. I said I’d rather look after myself. He said it was ‘okay’ and 219 paid me. I haven’t seen him since. 220 GS Do you think that some of the other boys would agree (.) if a 221 customer talks to them like this? 222 Pong Would some of the boys agree? Yes, there have been instances. 223 Maybe they think (.) they think to themselves that they’ll get into
179 224 this kind of situation working in this profession, so they resign 225 themselves {plong tok): ‘Okay, go ahead. Do whatever you want to 226 do.’ But others won’t agree. If the customer doesn’t want to use a 227 condom, they won’t give in. Even if the customer gets angry with 228 them, they won’t give in. I’ve had this experience before where the 229 customer wouldn’t use a condom. I just said, ‘If you don’t agree to 230 use a condom, then I’m leaving. Pay me and I’ll leave.’ He might 231 ask why he should pay when he didn’t cum. But I’ll tell him he has 232 to pay for [the work] that I have done. But if he won’t use a 233 condom, then the answer is ‘no.’ I still want him to pay five or six 234 hundred.
240 Pong If this is what you want to do, then I can’t agree. It’s not that I 241 dislike you or that I don’t trust you but we should both accept 242 responsibility for being safe. I’m not sure if I’m positive or not. 243 You’re not sure about your status. I haven’t been for a test. Pong, Oasis bar (IDI 07/01/98)
According to Pong, the customer’s opening gambit was just like everyone else when he complained that condom sex was unnatural. The customer also expressed his ‘concern’ that the condom would reduce his pleasure {mai teung jai) that, in turn, might affect his masculine performance and pride (sai laew sia cherngjai; lines 209- 211). When Pong said ‘no’, the customer appealed to his sense of trust: ‘You don’t trust me?’ (mai nae jai pom reu?\ lines 212-213). However, Pong did not yield to the coercion and instead turned the question back onto the customer: ‘Are you sure that I’m safe, a sex worker?’ {man jai pom reu?\ lines 214-15), thereby calling into question the customer’s better judgement. In negotiating with his customer, Pong con structs the sex worker as the primary source of infection (lines 214-215): Do you trust me [man jai pom reu\, a sex worker? Sam also drew attention to himself when he suggested that the sex worker was the one responsible for the transmission of HIV. These are non-face threatening speech acts (Brown and Levinson 1987), which provide their customers with the space to reconsider and an opportunity to back down.6
6 Again, the fact that both Sam and Toon construct themselves as the source of HIV infection may be a reflection of the force of the HIV/AIDS campaign, extolling men to use condoms in all commercial sex encounters (eg. Borthwick 1996). Significantly, however, both men have been able to appropriate the messages to their own advantage.
180 But the customer was dogged; not ready to back down, he tried another tack, implying that he did not use condoms with other sex workers. Nevertheless Pong, who would rather look after myself, remained firm: He wouldn 7 budge so I said I would leave and that I didn 7 want the fee... I haven 7 seen him since (lines 216-218). What is interesting here is that this experience proved instructive for Pong; the customer paid up so that later Pong said the customer has to pay for the work I’ve done even when he didn’t cum (lines 228-232). Pong brought the encounter to closure by invoking a co operative strategy in which both the worker and customer are responsible for safety: If this is what you want to do, then I can 7 agree. It ’s not that I dislike you or that I don 7 trust you but we should both accept responsibility for being safe. I’m not sure if I’m positive or not. You ’re not sure about your status. I’ve never been for a test (lines 240- 243).
Note too how Pong’s decisions about his sexual performance and whether or not to engage in oral sex are also determined in part by degrees of intimacy; there are things that he will not agree to when the customer is someone I haven’t been with before or someone I don’t know well (lines 202-04). In Pong’s opinion, other workers may simply ‘resign’ themselves (plong tok or plong jai) to getting on with the job, telling their customers to go ahead [and] do whatever you want to do (lines 223-224). Other researchers (for example, McCamish and Sitttrai 1996) observe a similar sense of fatalism among male sex workers.
Reflecting on experience
It is interesting at this point to speculate why there might be such variance between workers like Pong and Sam with their well-thought out strategies for negotiating sexual practice with their customers, and the other workers cited here. Both Pong and Sam were vigorously independent and had made deliberate and prag matic choices about entering sex work: Pong had answered an advertisement he had read in a gay magazine; Sam had left his job as a messenger with an insurance company for the extra money. Both men had definite life goals and needed to supplement their incomes, Pong to support his studies at university and Sam to pay for the house he was building for his parents. Both men were confident about their
181 identities, naming themselves as ‘gay’ and describing their sexual history and tran sition to male-male sex without hesitation. But whereas Pong was a first-year uni versity student, Sam had dropped out of high school at fifteen. Toon had also made an economic choice to work the bars, but this was based on wanting to have enough money to go out and have a good time with his friends in Bangkok. (In fact, he and his friends had ‘joined up’ as a group.) Lao, on the other hand, had drifted in to sex work and felt that he had no other viable choices. Toon did gay-identify but Lao did not and was uncomfortable talking about his work and about male-male sex. All four men had come to Bangkok from the provinces: Pong (nineteen) was the youngest, followed by Toon (twenty-one), Sam (twenty-three) and Lao the oldest (twenty-five). Sam had been working in the bars for a little over two years, Toon and Lao for about one year, and Pong for just two months. Pong reported recreational sex with other male sex workers in Bangkok and with a lover he saw whenever he went ‘back home.’ Toon was in an open relationship. Sam reported only ‘occasional’ recreational sex while Lao said ‘not at all.’
What is surprising, perhaps, is this: not all new workers lack effective strategies for negotiating sexual practice, and there is no clear cut relationship between negotiation and age or educational background. Rather, prior experience of male-male sex appears to be more significant than length of time in the bar. Put simply, those workers who had experience of male-male sex previous to entering bar work did not have to learn on the job. This is consistent with the findings of Kitsiripornchai et al. (1996) showing that Thai army recruits who are able to report using condoms in their first sexual encounter are more likely to report consistent condom use than those re cruits who had not used a condom in their first encounter.
The distinctions that do emerge are: firstly, that both Pong and Sam were self- confident; secondly, both had developed definite and achievable personal goals; and thirdly, in reflecting on their experiences, they had essentially rehearsed their negotiation strategies. Toon and Lao, on the other hand, did not display the same sense of self-esteem, particularly Lao, who said that he felt ashamed but resigned to his lot (this is my life). Self-esteem is critical if a worker is to manage the protocol of service and again, experience is pivotal. Neither man had thought through his negotiation strategies in advance. This had proved particularly problematic with their farang
182 customers as they did not have sufficient English language skills to effectively manage these interactions (though for Toon, this distance did help him compartmentalise his work-related and recreational sexual encounters). It is tempting at this point to suggest that English for Sex Work (Preece 1997), would be a starting point for men like Toon and Lao. But with both Thais and farang, the negotiation is limited and full of am biguity and a worker’s ability to negotiate safe sex with a customer is influenced not only by his language skills but also by how confident he is.
In my discussions with Sam and Pong, I began by asking them to confirm stories told to me by other bar workers. This elicited discursive strategies they had used to negotiate safe sex and to secure payment. But the process of self-reflection and analysis need not stop here. I can now draw on their replies with less experienced workers who are still learning their way around the bar scene: Does this happen? Does this talk point to an effective interaction? How would you deal with this kind of situation? Asking bar workers to analyse each other's talk in this way allows them to make sense of their lives and provides them with an opportunity to verbalise and re hearse their own negotiation skills. In this chapter, I have been interested to disclose the discursive strategies that male bar workers employ to manage their customer inter actions and to limit the sexual activity that occurs during the sex session.
Concluding remarks
Negotiation for the male bar worker is indeed a sticky business and a constant juggle to satisfy the service protocol, negotiate sexual practice and ensure payment. Workers actively engage in decision-making processes about the type of sex they have with their customers, and there is an ongoing tension between risk elimination and risk minimisation. Knowledge of safe sex and an understanding of the perceived risk of HIV/AIDS are necessary precursors, but not sufficient in themselves, to ensure safe sex practices. Precautions taken to avoid STD infection depend not only on the infor mation the workers have, but also on their resources at the time of having sex and the context in which the encounter occurs.
183 Browne and Minichiello (1994) have described condom dialogues as occurring at two levels, the interpersonal condom dialogue and the internal or discursive condom dialogue, both of which shape condom use/non-use negotiations and the sexual en counter. Condom sex may be constructed as ‘other’ sex - as ‘unnatural’ (mai sot), as inappropriate in intimate encounters, or as a challenge to sexual prowess and per formance. Interpersonal dialogues, on the other hand, are characterised by issues of trust and control expressed through such terms as nae jai (lit. ‘to be sure’) and man jai (lit. ‘to be confident’).
A worker’s ability to engage in an interpersonal condom dialogue is strongly influenced by his language skills and his sense of confidence: high self esteem not only gives men the capacity to successfully negotiate safe sex, but also “to form the intention to have safe sex and to carry that intention through” (Bartos et al. 1994:59; my emphasis). In addition, a male bar worker's ability to negotiate safety with a customer is influenced by his experience of safe sex, and those workers whose ex perience had provided them with an opportunity to rehearse their safe sex strategies were best prepared for negotiating with their customers.
The strongest determinant of consistent condom use is the nature of the re lational bonds between the sexual partners, rather than individual characteristics or attitudes. Does the partner command respect because of his or her social position (age, profession, educational background). Is this a primary, regular or casual partner? Is this a work-related, recreational or relational sexual encounter? I found relational bonds to be the most significant predictor of sexual practice. At risk behaviours were more frequently reported with someone who was described as a primary partner (wife, lover or boyfriend) or a regular partner than with a casual partner.
The finding that there is a strong positive association between condom non-use and higher fees among male bar workers (Biehle 1999) suggests that engaging in un protected sex may be a strategic move to maximise regular patronage or to provide a passage from bar boy to companion. We must also consider that issues of coercion between men become pronounced when there are manifest differences in the amount of power and authority between the sexual partners. The customers of Thai male bar workers wield economic power. This is reinforced by the perceived and actual social
184 distance existing between the workers and their customers. I also found that workers who gay-identify and who allow themselves feelings during the sex encounter were more likely to engage in high-risk activities than those who do not gay-identify.
Definitions of risk are socially constructed, and a variety of discourses -none of which are necessarily complementary or overlapping - contribute to understandings of risk, including discourses of the media, government and medical authorities, family and friends. Bajos et al. (1997) postulate that in struggling to make sense of these competing sources of information, each individual constructs his or her own socio cultural understanding of risk. This process of risk construction is related to the in dividual’s personal, social and sexual experience. It is this socio-sexual capital that is called upon when facing risk (Bajos et al. 1997). Thus, a young man entering bar work for the first time may lack the resources required for decision-making, which are pro vided by this socio-sexual-capital. This problem will be compounded if he is also ex perimenting with his sexuality and in the process of “acquiring a repertoire of sexual practices” (Bajos 1997:232).
In this chapter, I have argued that the discourses of risk and the language of relationships may be intertwined such that sexual practice can communicate information to a partner about the nature of the relationship (Bastard et al. 1997:55). Condom use or non-agreement to oral sex, for example, could indicate either a re lationship devoid of intimacy or a concern for safety. Condom non-use or agreement to anal intercourse, on the other hand, may mark a disclosure of intimacy and trust. Thus, when talking about how male sex workers and their sexual partners manage or ‘cope’ with risk, we need to consider both the methods of protection they employ (eg. avoidance of anal intercourse or oral sex, or condom usage), and how they communicate their understandings of risk to each other, that is, how the risk of HIV infection is rationalised and languaged (Bastard et al. 1997). It these understandings that I will turn to in the next chapter.
185 seven
Bordering on Desire
To speak of male sex work is to break several taboos simultaneously and to bring together discussion of (at least) two topics, namely homosexual desire and prostitution, whose very existence most governments and many ideology makers would prefer to deny. Dennis Altman (1999:xiii)
A landscape of talk
Two questions were formulated at the outset of this study: first, how does the language of communication (Thai or English) affect the interactions among workers, customers and bar operators; and second, what are the critical moments in these inter actions, and how are they discursively resolved? In chapter five, I examined the talk that takes place inside the bar from the time a customer enters to the time that he pays the khaa off and leaves with a worker (or goes to a room upstairs as the case may be). I identified three principal actors in the bar: the worker, the customer and the kaptan (or mama-sari) who functions as a gatekeeper. I also distinguished the bar nang from the bar go-go. I showed that in the bar nang, the imperative ‘not to crowd’ the customers means that the worker may be excluded from negotiation of the off and that, in these instances, it is the kaptan who occupies the pivotal role. By contrast, in the bar go-go, workers are able to exercise greater agency.
More specifically, I noted that certain expectations and conventions regulate the bar talk so that the discursive interactions that occur inside the bars are, by and
186 large, constrained. I accounted for this restraint as a product of both the protocol of service (the obligation to please the customer) and the customer’s wish to make the right choice. Instead, workers and customers depend on an economy of cruising, a set of erotic gestures not unlike those deployed by homosexually active men in public spaces. I also showed how the regulation of information flow in the bars serves as a technique to display and manage ‘masculine’ and ‘homosexual’ identities.
In chapter six, I showed how the negotiation that occurs outside the bar, after the customer has secured the services of a worker, is, in many cases, a re-negotiation of what was previously agreed inside the bar. In examining how workers and custom ers talk about the sex session, I was intent on exemplifying the discursive strategies employed by experienced workers to manage their customer interactions and to secure the off In so doing, I revealed that negotiation for a male bar worker means three things - negotiation of sexual practice, negotiation of understandings of safety and negotiation of payment - none of which necessarily sits comfortably with each other, or with the protocol of service. I also showed that workers and customers ascribe different meanings to their commercial and recreational sexual encounters, and to regular and non-regular encounters.
This talk is framed by global discourses of male-male sex, male sex work and HIV/AIDS, and in this study I have also been concerned with how these local and global discourses intersect and how meanings are contested and re-signified at these sites. Thus chapters three and four focussed attention on the macro-discourses con tributing to the construction of sexuality in Thailand. In chapter three, I examined the manner in which male-male sex and male sex work have been articulated in research and medical studies, government policy documents and the Thai media. I showed how the meanings that have grown up around HIV/AIDS (largely constituted by epi demiological risk categories) reinforce a particular understanding of gender/sexuality predicated on notions of appropriacy and propriety and assumptions of hetero normative behaviour.
Chapter four, in turn, examined the traditions and resources contributing to the construction of ekkalakphet (gender/sexuality) and, in particular, male homosexuality. My intention was two-fold: first to further interrogate the censorship inherent in the
187 linguistic production of ekkalakphet; and second to question the relevance of Western constructions of gender, ‘gay’ and ‘gay community’ to Thai contexts. I suggested that a framework that incorporates an awareness of ‘communities of practice’ provides an alternative and more consistent understanding of Thai ‘gayness.’ I supported my arguments by showing how Thai ‘gay’ men and lesbians name themselves and thereby resist hetero-sexist normative labels and negotiate the spaces between their public and private lives.
In chapters one and three, I pointed to the successes of the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign. I also highlighted evidence indicating that new modes of HIV transmission are now apparent, and I suggested that a shift in the public health campaign is timely in order to address these emerging modes of transmission. The question remains what such a shift might look like. In approaching this discussion, I will argue, in this chapter, that there is a need to theorise these changes in HIV transmission; to appraise accompanying shifts in understandings; and to show how these perceptions are dis coursed and languaged. My starting position in this chapter is that gender categories are both contingent and contested (as described in chapter four), and that sexual practice is a situated product (chapters five and six), emergent from the milieu of the sexual encounter (Bloor et al. 1993). Building on these understandings, I will contest the largely medicalised model anchored in epidemiological risk categories, which has characterised the response to HIV/AIDS in Thailand.
Drawing on the work of Kippax et al. (1993:65-77, 1995) I will begin by dis cussing the various factors that intersect with negotiation of sexual practice. I will look in turn at the interplay among the language of interaction (Thai or English), perceived risk (based on understandings and prior sexual experience), signifiers (as indicated in value systems), identity, situational determinants (such as relationships and feelings), and the protocol of service. I will posit that these factors in turn provide a landscape of talk against which we can view the emergent shifts in perception and understanding of HIV/AIDS. I will describe these shifts in terms of a changing sexual ecology (Rotello 1998), and argue that such a global view of sexuality provides a more coherent picture of prevailing attitudes than does a view predicated on the notion of risk categories and homogenised behaviours. I will then turn my attention to the implications of the find ings, in particular as these relate to understanding homoerotic desire and homo-sex
188 contexts. I will also define, in more general terms, a framework for an HIV policy shift and for broadening understandings of socio-sexuality in Thai contexts. I will close by returning to two themes introduced in chapter one, the economy of research and rep resenting sex work.
But first, I will review the factors that come into play in the negotiation of sexual practice.
Factors that interact with the negotiation of the off
Language of negotiation
A number of factors interact to different degrees with each other to shape negotiation of the off, not the least being the ability to articulate one’s intention to practice safe sex. I found that some workers, especially those with less experience or those who lacked self-confidence, did not think it was ‘their place’ to negotiate with the customer, neither inside nor outside the bar. The situation was further complicated when a worker did not have the necessary language skills to speak for himself.
An initial assumption I made in the research was that English would function as a gatekeeper to successful negotiation in those bars catering to non-Thai customers.1 In ‘English for Sex Workers’, Preece (1997:10) describes how EMPOWER, the NGO working with Thai female sex workers, has been criticised for offering English classes to women who sell sex: if you’re teaching English, then you are encouraging them to do the work. However, as we saw in chapter five, the interactions that take place in the bars between workers and their potential customers are constrained, and negotiation with both Thai and farang customers is limited and replete with ambiguity. More im portantly, a worker’s ability to negotiate sexual practice with a customer is influenced not only by his language skills but also by how confident he is. Language and self esteem are critical forerunners to the practice of negotiation. Lao, for example (chapter
1 A number of authors have critiqued the manner in which English acts as a gatekeeper and its association with positions of prestige in countries where English is a second language. See, for example, Pennycook (the ‘cultural politics’ of English; 1994:14-7) or Phillipson (‘linguistic imperialism’; 1992:17-31).
189 six), proved unable to negotiate with either his Thai or farang customers, saying, when you work like this, you have to do everything. You have to be able to accept it (tong tarn jai dai). Other workers spoke of putting up with it (tong thori) or of forcing them selves (tongfeun jai).
But while ‘English for Sex Work’ is important for those men who work in bars that cater to non-Thai customers, we should also challenge the assumption that bar workers have the required language, skills and confidence to operate successfully in their first language. For this reason, I believe negotiation skills would be better pol ished in the first language before being rehearsed in English (Storer 1999d).
In fact, the male bar workers were able to elucidate a variety of resourceful language strategies for communicating with their farang customers. I offer two ex amples: firstly, Prasong, a Thai free-lance worker, approached me in the lobby of the Malaysia hotel one afternoon and made it known (by miming the actions) that he would like me to type an e-mail for him (field notes 29/06/99). Although Prasong was mute, he saw being unable to type more of a problem than his inability to speak. (In fact, I typed two letters: the first to his Belgian lover to confirm visa arrangements for Brussels; and the second to a more recent acquaintance in Singapore, to inquire after his health and put in a request for money.) Secondly, Nat described how he bought a copy of Love Letters to Bangkok Bar Girls (Walker and Ehrlich 1992) and then pro ceeded to ‘copy and paste’ different sections into letters he sent to his farang customers.
The finding that Thai customers are more likely to insist on anal sex than are non-Thai customers (de Lind van Wijngaarden 1995b; McCamish and Sittitrai 1996; Storer 1999a) suggests that Thai social norms are a powerful point of coercion in de termining the success of a negotiation event (see below). Of course, this does not mean that all farang are good (Pone, IDI 29/01/94); it merely tells us that any farang who can not speak Thai lacks the linguistic capital to be assertive. ‘Getting what you want’ is an expectation that applies equally to all customers. Bird, for instance, explained that the bar talk is limited because: Lt’s up to me and what I want. The boy is obliged to follow my wishes (field notes 24/11/98). Like Bird, Brad related his ability to manoeuvre in the bars to his status as a regular customer with ‘local’ knowledge. Alex
190 a long-term resident of Bangkok, concurred when he explained that the bar workers know how they should a treat a regular (IDI 01/07/97). John, on the other hand, found it: hard to be assertive when you don’t speak the language (.) especially in a culture that is so (.) quiet... You feel like you’re pushing some limit (John, IDI 14/05/98). Here, Wut provides his point of view on how a worker moves through this quagmire:
Wut had left his job on a construction site to go home to Surin province in Isaan. On returning to Bangkok, he was unable to find work and had been free-lancing at one of the gay pubs on Silom Soi 2. Wut was considering working the Tulip bar, where he thought the customers would be more regular. He had chosen the Tulip because you could be a man there. Wut emphasised that he was ‘straight’ and that his sexual repertoire with men was limited to receiving oral sex or to being the active insertive partner in anal sex. Never theless, he remained concerned that if he moved into bar work, he would grow to like sex with men, and that he would have to expand his repertoire to do whatever the customer wants. Wut asked me what I thought about his planned move into bar work. I responded by asking him how he would talk with his farang customers. This was his reply:
Wut I would start by asking, ‘What do you like?’ GS And if I answer, ‘Can I do it to you?’ Wut [switching to halting English] No, can not GS Why not? Wut I never. I no like. I can fuck you. I like. Wut, free-lance worker (field notes 30/01/99)
Wut reported that he would prefer not to go off with a Thai customer, as he thought this would almost certainly mean agreeing to receptive anal sex. With a farang customer, Wuf s limited English language skills could work to his advantage. A farang customer might insist on anal sex, and Wut might relent. But in the face of Wuf s ‘just say no’ strategy, the customer would have to confront the fact that he had coerced the worker. Claiming T have never’ (mai kery) is an often-used strategy amongst the men in the bars (though some customers took this as a challenge rather than a flat ‘no’). Another strategy is to tell the customer you ’re too big, flattery melt ing most hearts. In some instances, a worker might agree to anal sex with the proviso that the customer stops if it hurts me too much. The worker then screws up his face in
191 mock pain until the customer desists.*2 With a Thai customer, the workers claimed they were less likely to object or to reveal their feelings.
But many of the workers avoided talking directly with customers prior to the off about the type of sex that they were willing to perform. John explained how, based on his experience with male sex workers in the US, he had thought that negotiation was something you had to establish up front. But then I found ...that some of the boys were willing to talk about that and some of them weren’t ... I didn’t really know what could be spoken about (IDI 14/05/98). In chapter five, we saw how Roger’s attempt to make clear his wants met with an ‘up to you’ (arai kor dai):3
And then you get into the (.) You know, ‘Well, how much is that?’ ‘Well, it’s up to you.’ But it’s really not. Roger, American resident in Thailand (21/04/97)
However, as Roger noted, ‘up to you’ can not be construed as meaning ‘what ever you want’. Thai conversation is characterised by maintaining ‘surface harmony’ (Komin 1988, 1991; Morris 1994), and the male sex worker prefers to avoid a direct ‘no’ in his response to any question posed by a potential customer. This is not false modesty but face-work (Muntigl and Turnbill 1998), which allows the customer room to manoeuvre.4 Negotiation is indeed a slippery business, and is as much about what is not said as it is about what is said: ‘can do everything’, for example, is a tacit agreement to receptive anal sex, whereas I’m a man submits the opposite. In the end, negotiation combines a ‘ballet of talk’, a layer of non-verbal signals and a liberal sprinkling of imagination:
Well, I think that what it points up is that ...you don’t really know until you get them home ...how they will perform. And that’s true in both types of bars. In the Neon kind of bar, the Patpong bar, you know what they look like (.) but you don’t know how they are going to perform. Because all the kind of little
See also De Lind van Wijngaarden’s explication of strategies orchestrated by male sex workers in Chiang Mai, northern Thailand (1995a, 1995b, 19996) It seems likely that, more generally, requests for all sorts of payments are left as ‘up to you’ (Pramualratana, personal communication). 4 Cf. Bilmes’ work on conversational analysis of a northern Thai negotiation, where he shows responses are often indirect, that is neither explicitly an acceptance nor a refusal (1996:176). Also of relevance is Moerman’s work on ethnography and conversational analysis (1988, chapter 5).
192 things they do, rub your legs and rub your hands and all (.) really don’t reflect their level of (.) they don’t reflect how much they like you. It reflects, I think, how much they need the money. Or whether you fit okay, and they still need the money, so they’ll go home with you. But ahm I’ve taken some boys home, and they acted like they really liked me, and then got them home and they (.) did nothing. So if you don’t have (.) you don’t have the language (.) you know (.) you can’t find out anything.
So you go in with a set of priorities of what’s important, and you (.) try (.) to get your needs met. And if you can talk about it with the boy - great. And if you can’t then you imagine and try to communicate non-verbally, something. But you’re acting in fantasy. Three-quarters of it when you don’t speak the language and they don’t speak the language is fantasy. And ahm, which makes it in some ways, more exciting, but also sometimes more disappointing in the end. You’re acting so much on fantasy that by the time you get the boy to your room for sex, you realise that this isn’t what you wanted at all. It’s a whole different projection that you placed on this boy that he was maybe trying or not trying to project. John, frequent visitor to Thailand (IDI 14/05/88)
In addition to language and self-esteem, a significant factor in determining sexual practice is the manner in which heuristic interpretations of HIV health messages inform understandings of and knowledge about sexual health.
Perceived risk and prior experience
Being in the business of sex, one might reasonably assume that male sex workers would be among the best informed about sexual health. But while, generally, the workers’ knowledge levels were high and they expressed concern about their health and risk at work, information about HIV remained patchy. Further, no distinc tion was drawn between HIV and AIDS, a finding supported by McCamish and Sittitrai’s study (1997) of male sex workers in Pattaya. Additionally, I found the male bar workers from the suburban bars of Bangkok to be less sure of health issues and less prepared to negotiate the off with their customers than those from the inner city Patpong bars. This may reflect the fact that many younger men apprentice themselves in the suburbs before moving to the more competitive inner-city environment. But new workers are to be found in both locales, and in both groups, decisions about unsafe sex continue to include the perceived ability to ‘know’ a person’s HIV status (Storer
193 1999a).5 Both San and Toon, for instance, reported screening their customers by look ing at them:
I have to always look at the customer carefully. I have to see who is clean, who is not. And then I decide what I am going to do with him. If he doesn’t look clean, then I don’t do much - maybe just jerk him off. San, male bar worker (27/12/94)
Usually, I look at them first. Are they likely to be positive, unlikely to be positive? Toon, bar worker (IDI 18/12/95)
Underscoring these various strategies is the impression that perceptions of risk are determined by self-ascribed identification with the concept of risk groups. The belief that it is possible to tell a person’s HIV status from his or her appearance, re mains an interpretation that equates safety with and privileges ‘cleanliness’ (sa-aat); ‘propriety’ {riap roi)\ and ‘speaking well’ (phootphroh).
Thus, knowledge of safe sex is not sufficient in itself to ensure its practice and is only one variable in the process of negotiation. In chapter six, I proposed that prior experience of male-male sex and safe sex is a more significant determinant of sexual practice. At this point, one could turn to the theory of reasoned action (Fishbein and Ajzen 1975; Ajzen and Fishbein 1980) for an explanation and argue that what is being demonstrated here is the prior intention to carry out safe sex behaviours (see, for example, Terry et al. 1993). However, I would caution against the too easy application of health belief models into the Thai context. Vanlandingham et al. (1995) have com pared the health belief model (HBM; Mullen, Hersey and Iverson 1987) and the theory of reasoned action (TRA) in an analysis of inconsistent condom use among men in commercial sex encounters in northern Thailand. While they conclude that TRA appears to be more adequate than HBM in its explanation of risk behaviours, they admit that TRA is limited in separating personal independence from the influence of
5 Dr Usa Doungsaa, Director of the AIDSNet Foundation in Chiang Mai, reports that many Thais remain confused about the whether or not it is difficult to contract HIV and that a number of myths persist around who is HIV positive, personal perceptions of risk and concomitant partner selection strategies (interviewed 16/1198). Behavioural research studies support her conclusions; see, for example, Pithurapongse and Jerrachai (1994); Vorkitphokatorn and Cash (1995); Mahaweerawat et al. (1998)
194 group norms, “especially as expressed as a feature of one’s masculinity... a valued trait in Thai male culture” (Vanlandingham et al. 1995:205). But as Kippax and Crawford maintain, TRA is limited in understanding sexual practice precisely because it “is essentially asocial... Norms are not cognitions and cannot be reduced to some sort of internalised beliefs” (Kippax and Crawford 1993:267; original emphasis). Rather, it is the culture of sex work that contributes to and shapes sexual behaviour, not that of the individual sex worker acting in isolation. Their arguments (Kippax and Crawford 1993) are supported by studies of male sex workers in Glasgow (Bloor et al. 1992) , Amsterdam (de Graaf et al. 1994) and Australia (Browne and Minichiello 1995, 1996a, 1996b).6 I suggest, instead, that prior experience of male-male sex pro vides a context that enables a sex worker to language the talk he subsequently deploys in his work. In this way, he begins to build up his professional discourse.
While there is no essential correlation between age and risk, age difference provides a social distance that connotes authority in Thai society (Mulder 1990, 1997), so that difference in age is a significant correlate of sexual practice in Thai contexts. Indeed, as Dr Usa Doungsaa argues, age differences may be even more significant in defining interactions than gendered relations, with older female clients of male sex workers readily able to exercise control over the younger men (interviewed 16/11/98). This leads into a discussion of the conjunction between Thai value systems and the negotiation process, and the way in which values shape context.
A clash of values
...respect in exchange for responsibility is the kernel of all Thai relationships. Peter Jackson (1994:66)
Ajarn Suntaree Komin’s work on how Thai cultural values interact in organ izational settings has been germane to understanding how Thai social values affect motivation, communication, conflict, group behaviours, and reward systems (1994:137-38). Komin’s research indicates that for the Thai, task achievement may be inhibited by social relationships (which, in turn, are inhibited by status and position),
6 Cf. studies of female sex workers and their clients; for example, Chetwynd 1994:392), Plumbridge et al. (1996), and Whittaker and Hart (1996).
195 and that compromise is often used as an effective means to save face, and to preserve
‘surface harmony’ (1990:701). For Komin (1988, 1991), the Thai social system is one
in which both independence and interpersonal relationships are of utmost importance
and in constant tension, so that the individual is continually negotiating his or her re
lationship with the social group (Bilmes 1992).7
Regional differences are also apparent. While cooperation is a dominant
ideology of village social relations (Potter 1976) gratitude is the highest instrumental
value among rural Thais (Komin 1988, 1991) and consequential in how relationships
are negotiated. Juree Vichit-Vadakan (1983) remarks that urban migrants from lsaan demonstrate a strong commitment to assisting one another through informal but en during associations that serve the functions of mutual aid, entertainment, job- recruitment, and linkages to home village life. Her conclusions are confirmed by Dr
Usa Doungsaa who reports that migrant workers develop different kinds of relation ships with others from the same region than they do with migrants from different regions (interviewed 16/11/98). Male construction workers, for instance, reportedly form more intimate relations with female sex workers who share the same regional dialect than they do with those from different areas who speak a different dialect. The men argue that the former are part of the same kinship group, and condom use ‘feels’ inappropriate, particularly after frequent visits (field notes 16/11/98). Relationships between male sex workers and their male clients are also strongly influenced by regional affiliations (see, for example, McCamish et al. 2000).
There are some obvious implications here for understanding the negotiation skills that are required in relations that may be structured along socio-economic strata.8
Safe sex promotional messages are often based on the assumption of a ‘general popu lation’ or of an equal relationship between sexual partners. This may not be the case, even in relationships between two men. All men are not equal, and men like Lao, who feel they are unequal partners in sexual negotiation, may be unwilling or unable to
7 By contrast, the assumptions that underpin the North American value system stress that people are basically equal and share the same rights; that each person should be judged on his or her own individual merits; and that these ‘merits’, including a person’s worth and character, are revealed through a person’s actions (Fieg 1980). g Also of relevance here is Bilmes’ description (1992) of how negotiation and mediation in northern Thailand is socially structured and culturally contextualised.
196 enter into negotiation at all. It is important, then, to consider the conjunction between value systems and negotiation events, and the concurrence between ideology and action as crucial factors in shaping perceptions about and responses to sexual risk taking (Tan 1999). Unless the Thai value system is interrogated - that is, how are values manifested in behaviours?, what values are implicit in the displayed behaviours? - sexual decision-making in Thai contexts will remain tied to a person’s educational and socio-economic status: I can trust (cheu teu) this customer because he is an ‘older brother’, or a doctor, or a teacher, or a sociologist. This concurrence between ideology and action is also closely linked to identity formation.
Identity performance and management
In chapter four, I challenged the heterosexual-homosexual framework that has dominated HIV/AIDS research and its too-smooth application into Asian contexts (cf. Khan 1998a, 1998b). I also argued that a gender/sexuality distinction is limited in understanding sexual behaviours in Thailand. I suggested instead that sexual ex perience over time or gender career provides a more appropriate framework in the Thai context. I supported this conclusion by showing: (a) how gender/sexuality dis courses in Thailand have been largely based on presumptions of heterosexual norma tive behaviour (despite social research that indicates a more complex view of what goes in private); and (b) that identities are constantly being contested and re negotiated.
I also demonstrated that many of the terms deployed by Thai men and women to reference their sexuality are better read for their role in identity management, and should not be taken to suggest membership of one particular identity category. Rather, such labelling is performative: thus, terms like man, ‘100% man’ or ‘real man’, when deployed by homosexually active men, announce a particular sexual performance -1 will be the active insertive partner - which in turn, reinvigorates their ‘masculine’ identity. I also showed that the word gay is a site of engagement for negotiating identity status, and its meaning remains conditional. It is deployed in both feminine and masculine domains. It may denote behaviours (as in gay queen or gay king)-, masculinity (when in opposition to kathoey)', femininity (when in opposition to ‘real’ men); or ‘gayness’ (implying an identity). Even the word kathoey, which implies a
197 particular membership category, signals performativity (cf. Butler 1990), for in acting out her role as the ‘second type of women’, the kathoey does femininity. This is more than gender reversal but about constituting sexuality and a heightened form of homo erotic desire that is quite distinct from ‘gay.’
The relevance of this viewpoint is that in order to fully grasp the wealth of behaviours that characterise sexuality, HIV/AIDS needs to be understood in the per spective of sexuality, and not vice versa (Giami and Dowsett 1996). It is sexual culture and not sexual identity that structures vulnerability to HIV (Dowsett 1997). Following Beesey (1997), I contend that the discursive formations resulting from the iden tification of‘high risk’ epidemiological groups have homogenised Thai male sexuality and privileged sexual identity over sexual behaviour. This, in turn, has rendered par ticular behaviours beyond public scrutiny.
Further, I suggest that a number of researchers in Thailand have been pre occupied by the finding that the majority of Thai male bar workers are behaviourally bisexual (for example, Narvilai 1994a, 1994b; Poshyachinda and Danthamrongkul 1996; Sriwatjana 1995), a finding that conceals the difficulties associated with naming ones sexuality as ‘other’ and the fact that inclusion rather than exclusion is a key feature of Thai social contexts (Borthwick 1999).9 Suthep’s appeal below - how do you tell people... What do you say? - displays the confusion around naming oneself as ‘gay’ and highlights how various ideologies compete for attention in defining sexuality:
I have feelings for men but I love to play football and taekraw [Thai ball game played by males]. When I am with my [football mates] then I act straight (phoochai). I play football and talk about girls. If they ask me if I have a girl friend, I answer ‘yes’. I have only told two others in my close group about myself... I want to come out. I want to tell my family. But how do you tell people that you are gay? What do you say? Suthep, third-year university student (field notes 14/05/98) g In fact, anecdotal evidence suggests that more gay-identified men are entering sex work in the bars in Bangkok (Greg Carl, Thai Red Cross, personal communication). As Pong explained (IDI 07/01/98): why not, we can have sex and get paid too (cf. Coleman 1989). Additionally, there appears to be more free-lance sex workers on the scene as result of the economic downturn (see chapter one). Michael Tan (1999) also observes that more self- identified gay men are entering sex work in the Philippines than previously.
198 Let me be quite clear - I am not insisting on a homosexual identity for the Thai male sex worker anymore than I am resisting it. Any “individual can retain member ship in a ‘gay’ world and yet not engage in homosexual practices, just as he can ex ploit the gay through sale of sexual favours without participating socially and spiritually in the gay community” (Goffman 1963:171). There is no necessary re lationship between a particular pattern of sexual behaviour and the taking on of a sexual identity: what is decisive is the meaning that individuals ascribe to their sexual feelings, activities and relationships (Richardson 1983/84:86-7). Padgug sums it up neatly when he reminds us: “To commit a homosexual act is one thing, to be a homo sexual is something quite different (1992:51).
However, I do seek to challenge two powerful stereotypes that have under pinned much of the interest in male sex work in Thailand (cf. Davies and Simpson 1990). The first describes a straight man, seduced into sex work by an established homosexual, or one who becomes homosexual by mere affiliation with male sex work. But while male sex work does provide an avenue for men to explore their sexuality, heterosexuality is more resilient than this notion of cause and effect allows. The second stereotype pigeonholes the male sex worker into the role of ‘unhappy soul’, a young man who has lost sight of the family. Vongsatitsarf s study (1989) is instructive here: male sex workers have slightly lower education levels than other men working in the service sector in Bangkok, but there are no significant differences between the two groups in terms of their demographic profiles or their ‘connectedness’ to families and friends. My own findings (chapter one), that Thai male sex workers display the same familial respect and responsibility as do other (migrant) Thai workers, clearly support Vongsatitart’s conclusions.
What we can say is that for male sex workers, sexual identity is contingent on their work roles, their friendship and partner choices, and their sexual behaviours in commercial and recreational encounters (cf. Boles and Elifson 1994). The significance of this in terms of male sexual health is twofold. First, Thai male bar workers are situ ated in both gay and non-gay environments and may be receiving conflicting messages about health as they move across these milieus. And second, interventions directed
199 towards male bar workers must address both homosexual and heterosexual behaviours, as well as work-related, recreational and relational behaviours.
Equally significant, is the way that sex workers manage their work identities and present a public order. For someone like Wut, masculinity is an essence or com modity that can be measured, possessed or lost (cf. Cornwall and Lindisfarne 1994). Thus while Wut was resolute in his presentation of man, this was offset by his concern that male-male sex was something he could grow to like. I found that the gay- identified sex workers would readily talk about their homosexual practice, whereas the ‘straight’ workers, while conceding to an on-going tension to ao jai khaek (please the customers), were more cautious about their social representation. This was reflected in the lexical choices made when talking about male-male sex. For example, the ‘gay’ men favoured khaek (lit. guest) to refer to their customers, whereas the ‘straight’ men favoured kathoey. Other differences were noticeable. Those workers who admitted to receptive anal sex preferred euphemistic terms like rap (lit. receive) tam/tam hai (do/do for), or popular ‘gay’ slang like cheu-am (lit. to weld). By contrast, the straight men made clear that they were the insertive partners, by favouring more direct expressions like ao (lit. want or take), the English word fuck, or its Thai equivalent.
Finally, there are a number of reasons why a man might not admit to par ticipating in receptive anal sex, not the least being that anal intercourse remains the benchmark for the homosexual. Some men consider that receptive anal intercourse homosexualises or feminises them. The hostility directed towards feminine or ‘gentle’ men can not be overestimated (Forrest 1994:103-4). Others claim that anal intercourse is painful; that it is not egalitarian (‘you always want to be on top’); that it is reserved for intimate encounters only; or that it is simply not part of their sexual repertoire (‘it doesn’t do a thing for me’). In any case, the taboo against a Thai man admitting to being anally penetrated persists (de Lind van Wijngaarden 1995), which points to a gap between public performances of masculinity and what actually takes place behind closed doors. Here Golf, the kaptan at the Mandrake bar, describes one of the workers he manages:
200 [Pointing to one of the men go-go dancing.] He’s a man but you can do it to him if you like. He’ll do everything. You just have to put up with him talking about being a man. Golf, kaptan (field notes 19/19/96)
Self presentation is critical for male sex workers in the face of moral dis courses that characterise prostitution as non-legitimate work or as degrading; or dis courses of gender and sexuality that present male-male sex as ‘less-masculine’ than male heterosex, for such discourses provide a continual background of surveillance and regulation. The male sex worker is left to make sense of these competing dis courses. One way for a sex worker to maintain composure amidst this chatter is to compartmentalise his work and recreational lives by building lines around trust and intimacy.
Intimacy
For any particular couple, what makes for a good relationship, what is in and out of balance when generating intimacy through talking, ‘knowing and under standing’ versus the doing of the more practical loving, caring and sharing, is complicated and difficult to untangle. Jamieson (1998:164)
Jamieson (1998), drawing on Gagnon and Simon’s study (1973) of hetero sexual careers of young men and women, describes dimensions of intimacy beginning with ‘knowing’ someone (sharing similar world views with and ‘knowing about’ an other person) and ‘understanding’ someone (implying a certain empathy). These, in turn, evoke notions of trust, both (en)trusting the other person with what each other knows, and faith that confidences will not be betrayed. Further, loving, caring and sharing are practical dimensions of intimacy (Jameison 1998). Moreover, sexual re lationships and the sexual act itself evolve according to the reactions of the partners, and to the stage of the relationship (Bajos 1997).
In Thai contexts, familiarity is built on the regularity of a relationship as ex pressed by such expressions as khaek prajam (regular customers), by the duration of the relationship (roo-jak maa naan laew), or on the nature of the relationship itself and notions of closeness (for example sanit laew or klai jit). Issues of trust and control are
201 expressed in terms of certainty as in feeling sure about someone (nae jai), or con fidence (man jai), or trustworthiness (cheua jai or wai jai).
In an ethnographic study carried out in Glasgow, female commercial sex work ers reported that condoms had become routine tools of trade and were used in the majority of commercial encounters (Cusick 1998). But the condom had also become an emblem of prostitution itself and the women in the study reported that condoms were used in only a minority of their non-commercial encounters, citing relational issues such as the desire to express familiarity and trust as the major reasons for non use. Similar findings are evident for Thai sex workers. Ajarn Yothin Sawangdee, from the Institute for Population and Social Research at Mahidol University, suggests that a sex worker may not initiate condom use with a recreational partner in case this should reveal that she does sex work: in the brothel, she knows she is a prostitute, but outside she is not (interviewed 24/11/98). Significantly, the friendship networks for male sex workers tend to be centred around the workplace. When work is over, the men like to go out together to the after hours bars, late night karaoke or the discos, where they meet up with other male and female sex workers. This means that their casual and regular partners (boyfriends, girlfriends or wives) may be in the same profession or living in the same sexual network.
It seems, then, that condoms have become the ‘hard hats’ of sex work. How ever, the conflation of the condom with commercial sex work and the unwillingness to deploy condoms in non-commercial encounters remains ideologically positioned, an ideology that extends to Thai women who do not sex work (see chapter three). Thus, for both male and female sex workers, decision-making about condom use is integral to managing impressions and a strategy that allows him or her to step out of the work place. In some instances, decisions about sexual practice (whether or not to engage in anal sex or whether or not to use a condom) may be a strategic decision and mark the beginning of a more intimate relationship with a client, or to develop or maintain a regular client relationship.10 In other instances, such decisions may be motivated by
10 In such cases, condom use is strategic in that it communicates information to the partner abut the nature of the relationship: it may either alert the partner to ‘keep his distance’ and define the boundaries of the relationship. Similarly, not using condoms is also strategic and may communicate a concern for safeguarding pleasure or affirm intimacy and trust (Bastard et al 1995:55).
202 the possibility of more money (Biehle 1997). What is lacking here, is a culturally- sanctioned language (Piskin 1997) that embraces the fact that sex workers, indeed all workers, have a life beyond the workplace and, which in turn, would include public discussion of STD and HIV transmission in non-commercial encounters."
Thus, by ascribing different meanings to their work-related and recreational sex encounters, male bar workers are able to compartmentalise their lives. Nat, for example, spoke proudly of his two sons and being able to provide them with a stable home environment and a good education. Toon talked about his live-in lover, a factory supervisor, for whom he paid the rent and household expenses. Tong regularly re turned to Rayong province to visit his lover of many years. In all of these personal relationships, “trust and love interact with each other” (Sawangdee, field notes 24/11/98).
For those workers who are ‘straight’, sexual desire is readily separated from sexual practice; that is their homosexuality is based on contact and not on dual affective preference. Other workers distinguished their work and personal lives when they described how they ‘sell a service’ (khai borikaan). Tong, for instance, both rationalised sex work and distanced himself from the clients when he said: ‘they can buy our bodies but not our hearts’ (seu tua dai seu hua jai mai dai). Interestingly, though, the prevailing rhetoric in the bars - off dek, (‘off a boy’) and the English equivalents (‘had a boy’ or ‘took a boy from the bar’) - imply that the customer is buying the boy rather than his services. McCamish (1997) has suggested that the visitor to Thailand, himself on holiday, may lose sight of the service transaction al together. Kai, in describing a ‘five-day holiday’ to Phuket island with a Singaporean customer, confirms the suggestion: But he didn 7 give me any money at the end, When we got back, I had to cover the 1,000 baht off fee [equivalent to five offs] What did this man think I did for my living? (field notes 21/12/95)
11 A related issue is that the majority of the customers do not bring their own condoms to the off, like his female counterpart, the male sex worker is taking over responsibility for his clients. When a male bar worker is the so-called ‘passive’ partner in anal sex, he must become assertive when he demands: Yes, you can, but only with a condom. The availability of condoms remains a critical factor in safe sex practice, and all bar operators should be mandated to supply sex workers with free condoms and lube. (This is not always the case at present.) Bar operators could also be more proactive in endorsing safer sex practices by reminding both workers and customers to carry condoms and lube.
203 Thus far, I have been concerned with the negotiation that takes place between a sex worker and his customer. But it is important to remember that there are three principal actors in the bars, and that there are manifest differences in the power and authority that they exercise. In the next section, I review the regulatory structures op erating in the bars (as described in chapter five), and in particular, the protocol of service.
The protocol of service
Male sex workers - by virtue of their being ‘male’ - often have more autonomy than their female counterparts. But while the bars provide male sex workers with some degree of protection from harassment, they remain subject to the policies of the bars and to the dictates of management. Bar operators are able to exert control over their workers because they hold copies of their ID cards and house registration, and because there is no formal male sex worker organization that might provide a recourse to legitimise complaints.
In addition, the protocol of service - the obligation to please the customer - counteracts worker autonomy and restrains the discursive interactions between workers and customers. The kaptan is pivotal in maintaining the protocol of service and, in many instances, will negotiate the off directly with the customer, excluding the worker from the transaction. A worker who lacks the language skills to communicate directly with the customer is further subject to the whims of the kaptan or mama-san.
The transaction of the khaa off invokes a contract between the customer and management, whereby the customer has the recall to complain if he is not satisfied with the service. Brad, for example, described how he took off a worker on the recommendation of the kaptan but when they got into the short-time hotel, the worker just lay there... So I told him to get dressed and gave him 300 baht... [Then] I called back into the bar on the way home and complained (field notes 07/08/98).12 Under-
12 Denis Byrne suggests that a customer spends some time picking out the right boy, and if he talks his selection through with the kaptan and then finds the boy won’t ‘perform’, he may feel that he has lost face because the boy has slipped through his scrutiny. It’s important in this
204 standably then, any worker who feels locked into the protocol of service is less likely to reject a customer, even when pressured to engage in unprotected anal sex.
The implication is clear: interventions that treat HIV primarily as a matter of sexual health, and which focus on changing sexual behaviour by encouraging condom use without tackling the power relations condoning different standards of behaviour for male bar workers, customers and management, do little to increase the workers’ ability to protect themselves (Storer 1996). Directing interventions at bar operators makes sense as it would contribute to long-term continuity; bar workers come and go, whereas the bar operators have a longer-term presence. Similarly, it would also make sense to direct interventions through the kaptan, many of whom have previously sex worked and thus offer experience and continuity. Being ‘older’, the kaptan could fill the kind ofpee-nong relationship described in chapter four (Borthwick 1999).
Unfortunately, men who buy sex from men have to date remained the silent partners in safe sex interventions. While it is difficult to target customers (particularly when their homosexuality is hidden because of a lack of acceptance or where their contact with male bar workers is a fleeting ‘night out with the boys’ (Storer 1999a), few of the bars display safe sex messages that can be seen by customers. Strategies to bridge this gap and to direct interventions to the customers might include, for example, offering condoms to the customer when he gets his change (modelled as part of the service protocol), or promoting health messages that bring together condom use and personal responsibility. Additionally, the male customers include Thai, Western and Asian men. For this reason health messages in the bars should be given in Thai, English and a selection of Asian languages (for example, Chinese, Japanese and Tagalog) to strengthen the idea that the workers and customers (Thai and non-Thai) have a role in promoting safe sex.
In concluding this first section, I note that although commercial sex has been historically associated with customer control (Bloor et al. 1992), it cannot be assumed that it is the client who dominates the sexual sale; sex workers are not powerless game that the customer doesn’t feel that he is being made a fool of or that his technique is called into question (personal communication 01/08/98). In this sense, being able to make the right selection is part of the cultural capital (after Bourdieu 1991) of the bar.
205 victims (Robinson & Davies 1991). Sexual sales are composed of limited com munication which is mostly non-verbal and replete with ambiguity (Bloor et al. 1992), and the male bar worker can and does manipulate this ambiguity to his own ends.
For a male bar worker, the ability to negotiate sexual practice and sexual safety is strongly influenced by language skills and self esteem, calculus of risk (understanding and knowledge), length of time in service, prior experience of safe homosex, as well as issues of trust and control and emotional needs. Negotiation is complicated by the protocol of service. Identity and personal and social value systems intersect with all of these factors. Moreover, sexual networks and their strong links into social norms and the social context are also significant in the process of risk con struction (Kelly 1992). These social and cultural contexts and relational bonds shape a framework of constraints and possibilities (van Campenhoudt 1993; van Campenhoudt et al. 1998) - negotiation is not a one off event but an on-going interactive process.
The various factors that interact with each other and with the negotiation of sexual practice to different degrees are summarised in Table 7.1. (Note that this table is not hierarchical.)
206 Table 7.1 Factors interacting with negotiation of the off______Language of interaction (Thai or English) • Hierarchical Thai language structures come into play. • A worker may be unable to make himself understood to a farang customer (or vice versa) and rely on the kaptan to mediate on his behalf. • Often limited to yes/no in relations with farang customers.______Self esteem • Can affect the interactions between a worker and the kaptan eg. when the kaptan ‘encourages’ a worker to off with a particular customer. • Affects a worker’s ability to negotiate and to persist under customer pressure.______Understandings and knowledge of HIV • Misunderstandings can result in high risk behaviours. • Selection strategies come into play (eg. ‘cleanliness’).______Experience of safe sex • A worker with experience of safe sex will be more likely to have rehearsed his negotiation strategies. • A worker who has prior experience of safe sex will have developed strategies for managing the customer interactions.______Value systems (eg. maintaining ‘smooth interactions’ and face) • Affects the relationship between a kaptan and worker, particularly when their relationship is structured along patron-client lines. • Deference given to social distance (such as age or social position) accords the customer with considerable respect. • Can influence ‘selection strategies’ eg. those based on external appearances (riap roi; phootproh). • Can lead to instances of cross-cultural ‘mis-communication’.______Identity (eg. man, gay, regional differences) • May affect ‘object choice’ if the customer is after a particular ‘look’ eg. masculine, country or dark. • Affects sexual performance; eg. real men don’t give head. • Sex workers who gay identify and allow themselves feelings during the off are more likely to engage in high risk behaviours.______Intimacy (relational bonds and feelings) • Relational bonds affect sexual practice, particularly with regular customers and partners. • Workers who identify as gay and allow themselves feelings during the off are more likely to engage in high risk practices.______Protocol of service (ao jai khaek, taam jai khaek) • The kaptan may set up the off and commit the worker to a particular sexual practice. • Can affect sexual practice, especially with workers who ‘resign’ themselves (plongjai) or believe they must satisfy the protocol (tong ao jai khaek).
207 At the outset, I said that the intention of the research was not to make exotic the lives of male bar workers, but rather to draw on the experiences from within the group and thereby learn more about the complex interplay between heterosexual and homosexual networks in Thailand. The factors identified in Table 7.1 provide a framework for understanding the negotiation of sexual practice by male bar workers and their customers. They may be applied to both commercial and non-commercial events and are also educative of both homosexual and heterosexual settings. Building on this insight, I now turn my attention to the global changes in sexual practice emer gent in Thailand. In the next section, I will draw on the work of Peto et al. (1998) to describe these changes as adaptive processes, occurring within the context of a larger ‘sexual ecology’ (Rotello 1998).
Beyond the bars - a changing sexual ecology
As described in chapters one and three, “Thailand has had one of the most effective national responses to the HIV epidemic in the world, noteworthy for its widespread impact” (Poolcharoen et al. 1998:21). Nevertheless, both epidemiological behavioural research and surveillance data highlight ongoing areas of concern. Van Griensven and Kunanosont (1999) have drawn attention to injecting drug use, male- male sex (among prisoners, male sex workers and other groups of MSM), and migrant populations as ‘under targeted’. Poolcharoen et al. have singled out casual sex and MSM as emergent “risk factors” (1998:20-21). But as I have argued throughout, MSM is an ubiquitous identity category that effectively sidesteps the complexity of male sexuality and the culture(s) of male-male sex contexts. The term ‘casual’ is equally problematic, because it assumes to capture the myriad potential of non-regular and non-commercial heterosexual encounters, such as those that are extra-marital or those occurring among high school students or white-collar professionals.
Lyttleton’s work (1999) is insightful here: in Mukdhahan (a northeastern city on the Laos border), female commercial sex venues have been steadily closing down. It seems that male customers are no longer frequenting these inner-city venues, turn ing instead to alternative locales outside the city perimeter and across the Mekhong River. Further, sex services via massage parlours have become more popular than
208 brothel-based sex. Lyttleton (1999) offers two reasons to account for this shift: firstly, massage services are encoded (and thus legitimised) within a rubric of health; and secondly, as a consequence of the ever-increasing surveillance around HIV, it is no longer ‘good behaviour’ for a man to frequent brothels. The massage parlours are seen as more discreet than brothel-based sex and beyond public gaze. The net result of these shifts is that the visibility of commercial sex is being removed; anonymity is re placing visibility (Lyttleton 1999).
Lyttleton’s findings (1999) clearly demonstrate how sexual desire can become encoded at particular locales. He notes further that different kinds of interactions be tween men and women are accompanying these changes; ‘quick’ and immediate sex in brothels has been replaced by longer chat sessions in karaoke bars and restaurants, where potential partners get ‘to know’ each other. Getting to know each other has be come part of the rhetoric in negotiating sexual practice (though this does not necessarily suggest a process of screening that includes finding out about a partner’s sexual history). These moves in place and behaviour reflect the force of the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign: commercial sex has been devalued, while family values - and in particular, trust and respect - have been reinforced. Thus, the role of intimacy (or at least the outward display of intimacy) has become more significant in sexual en counters; for as Sawangdee noted above, “trust and love interact with each other” (interviewed 24/11/98), and spending time together allows room for trust to grow.
Similarly, the sexual ecology (Rotello 1998) for homosexually active men is also changing. In chapter one, I described the growth in the number and variety of gay- oriented venues in central and suburban Bangkok over the last two decades, and how there now appears to be no one locale or focus of attention for the gay bars, pubs, clubs and discos that are dispersed throughout the city. It appears too that Thai gay men are going to the commercial sex bars less often. Jap, the kaptan from Charlie’s bar in Saphan Kwai, for example, reported that his commission payments had fallen and he was struggling to continue financing his commerce degree (field notes 17/08/98). But while attendance at the go-go bars is down, other parts of the ‘gay’ scene are flourishing, and in the last two years, there has been an increase in the number of saunas and clubs catering to a gay clientele (Whirlybird 1995).
209 Toi thought he was too old for the discos and bars and so preferred to frequent a club like the Locker Room, which he found quieter and more congenial:
I still go out to bars sometimes but not as often as before. I tend to go to the Locker Room [a massage ‘club’]. It’s like a brothel without the go-go. Toi, Thai designer (field notes 27/08/98)
Youth remains a valued commodity in the bars, and the saunas and clubs have proved popular with male sex workers as well, providing a follow on site for the older workers or for those in need of a break. As Nat, a masseur at the Locker Room, ex plained (field notes 21/09/97 the massage clubs afford an easier location to work in than do the bars. There are fewer rules - the workers are not required to undress in public or to go-go dance, there is no fine system and the management does not monitor when the workers arrive or leave. (In fact, the Locker Room has proved so popular with customers that the men willingly turn up for work.) The hours - late afternoon until around 11 p.m. - are also attractive, especially for those men with day jobs, those with family commitments or those wanting a social life. The hours also allows some men to work the massage clubs before going off to work the bars. Tiger, for example, operated out of the Toolshed until around 10 p.m., when he would move onto Joe’s Bar to perform in the shows. The managers at both venues were happy with this arrangement, as Tiger was a good earner in both places (field notes 26/06/99). It was beyond the scope of this study to fully explore the growth in the number of male-male sex-on-premises venues in Bangkok, but it is interesting to contemplate why this phe nomenon has occurred. Is it simply that ‘gay’ men, hit by the economic downturn are looking for a bargain night out? This is an unlikely explanation, however, as patrons at the massage clubs have to cover the entrance fee, the cost of a room and the tip for the worker, plus any drink charges. A defining feature of the ‘massage’ clubs is that the customer does not take a worker off from the club, so that all the money is spent on the premises; conversely, only a few of the bars provide ‘a room upstairs’. (In this sense, the clubs function as brothels.) Another difference is that when checking in to a massage club, a customer is given a numbered locker key. He then changes into a towel and bathrobe. If the customer indicates to a worker that he wants a massage, then the worker asks: ‘What is your number?’ As Lex wryly observed: This is a role
210 reversal... for in the bars, it’s the boys wear the numbers, not the customers (field notes 15/01/98).
Is the growth in sex-on-premises venues merely, then, an entrepreneurial move in response to the success of the gay discos like DJ Station or Freeman, or the ‘non commercial’ saunas like The Babylon or Obelisk? Alternatively, does it reflect emer gent historical changes within the gay ‘community’, as gay-identified Thai men seek out new avenues for their sexual encounters? Or, is it that Thai gay men, like their heterosexual counterparts, are seeking to further distance their sexual encounters from public purview? Whatever the reason(s), men in Bangkok are now afforded a broader range of male-male sex options. In addition, men who attend sex-on-premises venues have a greater opportunity for multi-partner and anonymous encounters than those who go to the bars. Further research is needed to learn more about these sexual contexts and how Bangkok ‘gay’ men are perceiving and managing risk.
Further, the boundaries between the commercial and non-commercial gay sex venues have become blurred and, in some cases, indistinct. As shown in chapter three, some of the gay saunas provide both sex-on-premises and commercial sex via massage services. Free-lance workers are to be found in the gay saunas and discos. Male bar workers go to the discos after work to unwind and sometimes to cruise. Discos often exist adjacent to male commercial outlets. And both commercial and non-commercial encounters are transacted in shopping malls, parks and cinemas.
What all of this means, is that it is no longer adequate to consider sexual health and male sex work without also addressing the men who buy sex and the positioning of male commercial sex within the larger ‘gay’ scene. Indeed, it may be timely to This, more directly address male-male sex behaviours may now be needed in venues catering to gay men. What I am re-emphasising, is that the Thai HIV/AIDS campaign should be refocussed (McCamish et al. 2000) to give greater attention to male-male sex and the (sub)cultures that are too-readily subsumed by the all-encompassing category, men-who-have-sex-with-men. Further, I believe that this study demonstrates that it is possible to do so by building on the levels of experience to be found among male sex workers and other homosexually active men - the best messages to be incorporated in any health campaign are those that are already there (Kippax 1997).13
Taking care of the self
During the interviews, I asked the male bar workers, What do you think is the best way to give bar workers and customers information about sexual health? Their answers were often detailed and indicated an understanding of the forces operating in their lives. This ability to discuss education strategies was not confined to workers who were older or even to those who showed signs of positive self-esteem. Lao, for instance, saw the importance of working with the bar managers. Wut spoke of the linkages between Bangkok-based bar work and rural epicentres. San pointed to the need for more friendly testing facilities, where men can openly talk about their sexual ity without embarrassment. Here Sith, a former sex worker in a sauna speaks to the need to ‘teach’ the owners (IDI 27/01/95):
First, you have to teach the owners. They should be helping to promote safer sex. The owners should have magazines for the boys to read. In the sauna, for example, there are only gay magazines. The boys will pick these up and look at them but they aren’t that interested in stories about gay life. These magazines just reinforce what they are doing. There should also be daily newspapers for the customers to read which the boys can read also. I never read the gay magazines. They only show a small world. Sith, former sex worker (IDI 27/01/95)
Sith also speaks to the need to work with new recruits though open-ended questions, which can draw out local resources, and which encourage workers to look beyond short-term economic concerns. That is, Sith confirms that the health messages are already there. He also suggests that prevention campaigns need to provide the space where male sex workers can come together to talk about their lives:
The problem is that most of the boys working in the bars start young and they change bars all the time. They don’t think beyond the money. They don’t think
13 Such interventions could be extended, for example, through The Thai Business Coalition for AIDS under the rubric: ‘you and your clients’.
212 about giving up the life, only the money. It is difficult to get the boys to take notice. They will say they believe you when you are talking to them but it’s different behind your back. If you want to try to educate the young boys, then don’t expect them to give up the work... You have to talk to them. Ask them questions like: “Do you know about safe sex? Do you know how to be safe?” ...Another thing is to offer them alternative lifestyles: “What else can you do to make money where your life will be better and more healthy?” And I think it is necessary to highlight the negative aspects of their lifestyle and the effect on their bodies. My advice to the boys in the bars would be: “Okay, go ahead and do what you are doing. But get some money for the future and get out.” Sith, former sex worker (IDI 27/01/95)
In the next section, I would like to take a broader view and ask: What are the policy implications of this research? But first, I would question how well the language used in various Thai health campaigns reflects the language of sub-cultures rather than that of the so-called ‘general’ population? Prevention measures that exclusively spread information in order to change sexual behaviour without considering sexual cultures are based on models that posit close links between knowledge and behaviour. But top- down behavioural surveillance denies any correspondence between knowing and doing (Hutton 1988:129). The comments made by Pone, Sith, Lao and San clearly demon strate that it is possible to give greater emphasis to “technologies of the self’ that would in turn allow individuals to improve their capacities and conduct through techniques of self-enhancement and self respect (cf. Foucault 1988). As Pone, one of the bar workers remarked, What I know is that with AIDS, we have to learn how to protect ourselves (IDI 29/01/95).
213 Figure 7.1 Curious onlooker: A young boy gazes in through the window of the Telephone pub the night of a party promoting the first Bangkok Gay Festival (30 June 1999).
214 Shifting focus
To summarise my arguments to this point, I reiterate that there is considerable evidence to show that Thailand’s bold approach to HIV/AIDS is slowing down the epidemic. The primary directive of the public health campaign has been to promote condom use in all commercial encounters. However, the definition of risk categories - commercial/non-commercial, direct/indirect, marital/extra-marital - has inadvertently defined contexts for unprotected sex, reinforced accompanying notions of ‘them’ and ‘us’, and diverted attention away from the fact that HIV is transmitted sexually, rather than in commercial settings alone.
The Thai HIV/AIDS epidemic has been accompanied by a growing interest in understanding the contexts within which gender/sexuality are framed and a widening discussion of sexuality that professes to demystify sex. Nevertheless, drawing on Foucault (1979), public discussions of sexuality are subtly coercive and continue to define codes of ‘appropriacy’, of legitimate and illegitimate sexual behaviour. Drawing again on Searle (1969:33ff) and the arguments framed in chapter four, I suggest that the discourses that have built up around HIV/AIDS in Thailand both con stitute and reinforce what can be spoken: the ‘good’ Thai women, heterosexual norms, family values and the sexually profligate male. Other topics - such as sexuality and youth, institutionalised homosexuality in prisons and other forms of homoerotic desire, sexuality and drug use (Sukrung 1997b; van Griesven and Kunanosont 1999; Ungpakorn 1999) - strain to enter public purview.
The shift from commercial to alternative encounters (with masseurs, restaurant staff or patrons of discos) has further blurred the boundaries between commercial and non-commercial sex. In short, while there is evidence of behavioural change in brothel settings, in other instances, men have adapted rather than adjusted their behaviours. I propose instead that partner-specific risk perception or behaviour-specific risk per ception is more likely to be related to self-protective behaviours (Poppen and Resien 1997) and thus provides a more appropriate definition of the construction of risk than does the identification of ‘high-risk’ categories (Hope and MacArthur 1998); and following on from this insight, that risk behaviours should be viewed as episode-re lated (that is, occasional). But do we fully understand the contexts within which re-
215 lationships are formed and in which sexual risk taking occurs? How well do we under stand, for instance the way that gender, age, class or regional affiliations affect the distribution of power in relationships? Do we fully understand how Thai men and women construct intimacy, trust and commitment? And how do these perceptions affect the negotiation of desire and sexual practice?
Addressing these questions will require a re-orientation of the Thai HIV/AIDS discourse so as to acknowledge that sex pervades all layers of Thai society and involves middle class and working class as well as heterosexual and homosexual men and women. Jon Ungpakorn, from the NGO ACCESS, leads the way: what is needed at this point he argues are new ways of talking about sexuality, which are more accepting of difference, permit women to speak and allow for discussion of sexuality among youth (Ungpakorn 1999). That is, it will be necessary to forge culturally- sanctioned modes of talking that will challenge the way identities are constructed and maintained and thereby, make public what is normally private and beyond public purview.
This is not to say that the 100 percent condom campaign has had its day, but to admit that the condom has been promoted not as an erotic alternative, but as the only alternative. A question yet to be addressed is, does a 100 percent condom policy - all men should behave as positive - silence risk taking? Further, it seems that a fatigue may be growing up around the condom (Ungpakorn 1999). The campaign needs to be reinvigorated and the condom re-marketed. The challenge is to normalise condom use so that condom non-use has to be negotiated. It may be time also to consider admitting a repertoire of safe sex options into the HIV/AIDS rhetoric. These might include, for example, further endorsing the kind of risk management strategies described above (such as partner selection, steady relationships and safer sex) or negotiated safety within the contexts of relationships.14
14 The concept of negotiated safety was formed in Australia (Kippax et al. 1993; Kippax 1996) in response to social science research which identified a co-location of unprotected anal intercourse and relationship status within homosex cultures. Negotiated safety refers to both a set of behavioural practices and an HIV avoidance policy. In its inception negotiated safety referred to a conceptual term that described a set of empirically observed behaviours. However it has become a paradigm to assist seroconcordant gay men in relationships who do not wish to use condoms in certain situations. What is distinguishing about the naming (of negotiated safety) is a shift in HIV/AIDS discourse from describing unprotected anal
216 Reflexivity and the research economy
At a certain point during the research, the interviews seemed to move beyond interviewing to something, I would like to think of, as more like talk, when the participants began to seek out their own information and, in some instances, asked for or gave advice. Why and how did this change come about? What was I doing differ ently? In part, I defined the space for this transition when I became more comfortable with the interview process and less concerned with getting through my ‘carefully- crafted’ research questions. When I began the research, I was unknown, an outsider, and it took at least six months to build up confidence among the bar workers. If nothing else, this indicates the limitation of one-off‘quick’ questionnaires in sex work research. Toon summed it up neatly in chapter five: There was someone who came once to carry out an interview, [but] that was it. He was never seen again; IDI 12/02/96.)
But it became apparent early on that the workers themselves would decide how much they wanted to tell, when they wanted to tell, or even if they were inter ested in telling. The sociological interview is inherently ambiguous, and this am biguity is easily exploited by the researched (Silverman 1997). Thus, while I might presume that I was someone with information or advice the workers wanted to access, the transition to talk in the interviews was in fact driven by the workers themselves. In
intercourse as ‘relapse’ (a behaviour that is problematic, pathological and irrational) to a discursive formation that is a descriptor of a rationalised actor and which has an educative utility (Houlihan 1998). I am not suggesting that the negotiated safety campaign deployed in Australia could be simply applied into the Thai context. Indeed, considerable debate and controversy has accompanied the negotiated safety campaign in Australia. (See, for example, the special edition of Venereology, 9(2) 1996). One would need to carefully question the assumptions underpinning negotiated safety. For example, the campaign assumes that couples talk together from the outset of and throughout their relationships, and that they will test their HIV status to establish sero-negative concordance. In Thailand, however, there are issues of confidentiality around testing that would need to be examined closely. Thep, a former bar worker who was HIV positive, spoke of his visits to a provincial hospital in this way: I hate going into the hospital to see the doctor [for regular checks]. You have to walk around the back of the main building to an older section. I’m sure everyone knows why I am going there. There ’s a room that has a curtained screen at one end. The doctor sits behind the screen. A nurse sits out front and you have to talk to her first. She asks a lot of questions (field notes 07/11/98). However, I do see that it is significant that some couples are seeking to ‘get to know’ their partners, and this suggests an opportunity for providing models for bringing talk and trust together into public discursive spaces.
217 asking questions, the workers began to appropriate the interviews process for their own ends. In most cases, the workers signalled their concerns indirectly: Why are you interested in sex workers? Why are you doing this research? What do you think about men who sex work? These seemingly innocuous questions were, in part, a test, my answers allowing a worker to judge whether or not he wanted to ask further questions. At other times, the workers deflected my queries and nudged me along a different path. Jaek, for example, who wanted to talk about discrimination against people whose lives are affected by HIV:
I had been asking Jaek about levels of awareness of risk among bar workers. But Jaek was not interested in general talk about sexual health. His under standings of HIV were rooted in personal experience. He wanted to talk about a cousin who had recently died and her young daughter whom he suspected was HIV positive: She is sickly. She often has diarrhoea. Should I tell my grandmother? Will this affect her noodle business if news gets out in the village? What do you think? Jaek, Tulip bar (field notes 01/02/96)
In chapter two, I argued for understanding ‘talk’ as a technique to anchor past experiences into the present, and I posited reflexivity (through triangulation) as central to the research methodology because of its potential to become a “continuing mode of self analysis and political awareness” (Callaway in Hertz 1997:viii). In chapter six, I showed how the process of reflexivity provided the workers with an opportunity to comment on each other’s talk, which in turn explicated the discursive strategies they employed to manage their customer interactions. I also described the educative potential of self-reflection: engaging new workers in talk with and about their colleagues allows them to verbalise and rehearse their own negotiation skills. As Hutton (1988:139-40) remarks, what fathoming the past teaches us is that there are options among which we are free to choose, not simply continuities to which we must adapt. Who we are has as much to do with what we affirm in the present as it does with what we venerate in the past. In this way, reflexivity permits a means of pre paring for what lies ahead. Plummer describes it thus:
[When] stories move out beyond the individual story teller to a community of reception... [they] can help shape a new public language, generating corn-
218 munities to disseminate and receive them... [and] ultimately creating more spaces for them to be heard. Ken Plummer (1996:45)
I believe then that the research methodology addresses, in part, ethical con cerns as outlined by sex workers (eg. Metzenrath 1998), namely that research about sex work should not only be driven by the personal and academic interests of re searchers but provide for the research needs of sex workers and their supporters. Further, even when it might not be safe for sex workers to speak out, it is still im portant that they are involved in all aspects of the research (Metzenrath 1998; Pyett 1998). While I did not employ male bar workers as researchers they were actively in volved in the design of the research instruments, advising me on what questions could be asked and how these should be phrased. They also provided valuable information on the different ‘cultures’ of the bars. In addition, because I relied on convenience sampling, the workers were instrumental in deciding whom I could talk to and when. In short, this research would not have been possible without the generous and patient cooperation of men in sex work. The challenge, I believe, will be to garner the support to extend the approach to other hard to reach workers e.g. street workers or those who work free-lance in the discos and ‘non-commercial saunas.
But the research has also been a process of personal reflection. From the out set, I knew that I had a lot to learn about the culture of sex work. But I was not pre pared for how little I knew or for how much the research would confront me. Indeed, at times, I felt quite undone. Thai male bar workers exhibit an apparent ease with sexual careers that are reworked and transformed over time, a realisation that con fronted my own comfortable assumptions about sexuality. They also accommodate multiple subject positions in their lives as they move from work to family and rec reation and across heterosexual and homosexual milieus. My own theoretical post modern mumblings felt self-conscious by comparison. Further, the social and sexual networks for male bar workers extend outwards to include family and friends. It seemed to me that my notions of ‘gayness’ and global gay community devalued this kind of investment. More importantly, these insights are re-shaping how I now per ceive gender and sexuality, and I am beginning to challenge the homo-normative
219 paradigms that dominate gay life here in Sydney and perplex our understanding of male-to-male sexual transmission of HIV.
Final remarks
This research, in focussing attention on the interactions between Thai male bar workers and their customers, confirms that male sexuality is complex, and that there is no tidy partition between gender and sexuality, or between homosexuality and hetero sexuality. Rather, the symbols, values and norms that structure images of sexuality are the results of complex on-going negotiations between various groups of actors. For Bastard et al. (1995) this is a transactional process that occurs continually in daily life; as a result, the outcomes are unstable, temporary and often contradictory. Ultimately, it is the individual who is left to arbitrate between these discourses and make their interpretation coherent.
Thus, as described here, the discourses of risk and the language of relationships are intertwined, and the discourses of ‘safe sex’ and ‘safe love’ often compete with each for attention (Rosenthal et al. 1998). Condom use/non-use may communicate information to a partner about the nature of a relationship (Bastard et al. 1997:55): condom use, for example can indicate either a concern for safety or a bounded re lationship, devoid of intimacy; condom non-use, on the other hand, may announce a wish to safeguard pleasure or the disclosure of closeness and trust. When talking about how male sex workers and other homosexually active men manage risk, we need then to consider both the methods of protection they employ (eg. avoidance of anal inter course or oral sex, condom usage), as well as the way they communicate these under standings to each other. That is, how they rationalise and language their behaviour (Bastard et al. 1997).
Throughout this study, I have continued to reflect on the notion of identity, and to seek ways to reinterpret identities “as strategic systems with pragmatic purposes and unintended effects” (Patton 1993:175), because I believe it important to expand public discussions of sexuality and to improve social tolerance of different forms of sexual activity. Addressing and changing society’s negative views of homo-
220 sexuality are crucial components of a comprehensive approach to modifying behaviour and reducing transmission of HIV (Bajos 1987; Plummer 1995). Con versely, feelings of social exclusion, because of socially disapproved sexual orientation, a contributing factor in the invisibility of populations of homosexually active Thai men (Sittitrai 1994b), is associated with the non-adoption of preventive behaviour (Deverell et al 1994; Bajos 1997:234; Parker et al. 1998; McCamish et al 2000). I have also stressed the significance of multiplicity of identity, namely that homosexually active men have more than one identity and their sexual identity may not be the most important or the most prominent. Rather, structures of class, age, regionalism and gender cannot be separated individually, but are inscribed within each other (Deverell et al 1994:186-7).
I concur with Dowsetf s (1997) case against the dubious notion that sexuality can be divided into two constituents (sexual identity and sex practices) and two un equal versions of that (heterosexuality and homosexuality). The ascendancy of this heterosexual/homosexual divide - a divide which is as meaningless in countries like Thailand where the epidemic is described as heterosexual as it is in countries like Australia where the epidemic is described as homosexual - has dominated our under standing of socio-sexuality (Dowsett 1997; Khan 1998a, 1998b). Further, I would contest the notion that gender in non-Western settings like Thailand is fluid. On one level, this is an impression that exoticises Thai-ness. On the other, it conceals the dis continuities that pervade Thai transgender, gay and lesbian contexts (Storer 1999c). It also diverts attention away from the complexity of male sexuality in Western settings. Connell’s (1987, 1985) practice-based theory of gender and Dowsetf s (1996a, 1996b) work on the intersect between homosex and class, for example, suggest that the heterosexual-homosexual opposition is a misnomer, and that what goes on behind closed doors here in Australia is anything but ‘straight’. Gender remains contingent, context-specific and highly contested.
221 Appendix I Notes on the Thai language
While Thailand has only one national language (Standard Thai), the country is also diverse in its languages. Many Thais “speak two or more languages regularly [or] constantly, and a minority speak either Standard Thai (the national language) or Thai klaang (‘Central Thai’, the vernacular on which the national language is primarily based)” as their first language (Smalley 1988:245).
Thai is a tonal language and a number of the Thai vowel and consonant sounds are not found in English. The phonetic script is derived from Sanskrit and there is no one agreed-upon style of transliteration of the Thai alphabet into English. I have used a modified version of the Thai Royal Institute System, after Peter Jackson (1995). While not strictly phonetic, this system is the one most commonly adopted by the English language press in Thailand, in Romanised street signs and in other official usages within the country (Jackson and Sullivan 1999:22-4). In addition, the modified system does not depend on being familiar with linguistic phonetics, and is, I believe, accessible to a wide audience.
Key features of the Royal Institute System:
• Tones are not marked and long and short vowel lengths are not distinguished.
• K-kh, p-ph, and t-th represent pairs of unaspirated and aspirated guttural, labial and dental consonants, respectively.
• The Thai k, p, and t sounds do not occur at the start of syllables in English and are closest to the short, unaspirated sounds that occur as the second elements in the English consonant clusters ‘sk’ , ‘sp’ , and ‘sf.
• ‘kh’ is similar to the English ‘k’ or hard V sounds as in ‘cake’
• ‘ph’ is equivalent to the English ‘p’ as in ‘pop’ (not ‘f as in the English word phonology); while ‘th’ is the aspirated ‘f as in ‘Thai’ , (not ‘th’ as in the words The’ or ‘both’).
The transcription system used here differs from the Royal Institute system in that:
• The letter] is used with its common English value as in ‘joy’ instead of the ‘c’
• The letters ‘ee’ are used to transcribe the long vowel sound written simply as T in the Royal Institute system. For example, the colloquial feminine prefix is written as ‘ee’ (eg. ze-aep, ‘a closeted male homosexual’), and the term for a feminine lesbian is written as ‘dee’ (abbreviated from the English ‘lady’ ).
222 The letters ‘aa’ are used for the long vowel written as ‘a’ in the Institute system. For example, baan (house or home).
Where English words such as ‘gay’ or ‘tom’ have been appropriated into the Thai vernacular, the original English spelling is italicised, even when the pronunciation differs. This is because in some cases, the meaning of the original term may also be transformed in the process of appropriation (see chapter four). Jackson and Sullilvan (1999:5-6), for example, note at least three distinct meanings attached to the term gay: its western sense, referring to gay men or gay cultures in western societies; its common understanding in the general Thai heterosexual population to mean all homosexually active men, both kathoey and masculine-identified; and, its use within local subcultures, where masculine gay is defined in opposition to the feminine kathoey.
Spelling of Thai Names
Note that many Thai people transcribe their names using Roman script in ways that do not correspond with the principles of the Royal Institute System. It is common, for example, to include silent letters that are written in Thai but not pronounced in the transliteration of Thai names and place names. It is also common for names derived from Sanskrit and Pali to be spelled as in these ancient Indian languages, even though the pronunciation in modern Thai might be quite different. In such instance, I have preserved the original spelling.
Note also that it is customary for lists of Thai names to be arranged alphabetically by first name, not surname. This reflects the fact that the universal use of surnames was only introduced at the beginning of this century, and all Thai titles continue to be prefixed to given names rather than surnames (e.g. in Thai one says Dr Doug, not Dr Smith). Thus, bibliographies in Thai libraries and Thai language publications list Thai authors alphabetically by first name. However, most English language publications, including those written or co-authored by a Thai, follow the English system of alphabetising authors by family name. In this thesis I have chosen, in most instances, to refer to Thai authors by first and family name in the body of the text [eg. Dr Suntaree Komin (1998) has argued...], but to list all citations by surname in the bibliography [eg. Komin, S (1998)].
Lastly, Thai language publications are dated using the Buddhist Era (B.E.) calendar, which began in 543 BC. This is still the common calendar system in everyday life in Thailand. In this thesis, Buddhist Era publication dates for Thai language publications are included within parentheses after the equivalent Christian Era year, e.g. 1999 (B.E. 2542).
223 Table 1 The Thai Alphabet: phonetic symbols used throughout the thesis a. Thai Consonants - Phonetic Symbols Thai symbol(s) - initial value Phonetic symbol Thai symbol(s) - final value n K n, u, pi,«a *j, pi, si Kh - 4 Nq 0 0 J - a, 'll, oj Ch - 0/ ® D - a- n T 0, 'll, «a, f), g, §, m, pi, Pi, vi, 6, Pi, m, a 5, tn, eu, n, vi, 5 Th - u N nj, A4, u, a, vT u B u, iJ, w, vi, vl il P - w, w, n Ph - fj, vJ F - u M u ü/ aj Y Y or i (see vowels below) a 7 R - a, vT L - i W i is, Pi, », a s - vi, a H - a (Glottal stop symbol) - - b. Thai Vowels - Phonetic Symbols Phonetic symbol Thai vowel Phonetic symbol Thai vowel a at, S-, inherrent 0 lat, inherent aa an o (long vowel) Ta am an oi lau ao lan or iant ao (long vowel) an or (long vowel) aa, inherent ai Su, ta, “la oi aaa ai (long vowel) ana er taat e tat, ia- er (long vowel) laa, ia- ay la er-y iaa e-w ian u a e-w (long vowel) tan 00 a ae uat, ua ua an-, Si, Sit ae (long vowel) ua- oo-ay ana aew uan ui aa j a eu a ee a eu (long vowel) aa ia laut, iaa eua laat iao iaai eua (long vowel) iaa iw an eu-ay (long vowel) laaa ru, reu n, m
224 Appendix II Glossary of Thai terms used
a. words used by the men to talk about their lives ai Embarrassed or shamed. Hence, naa ai (embarrassing) or aipeu- an, as in feeling embarrassed that friends will find out. a o jai To please someone to do what someone else wants as in ao jai khaek (to follow the wishes of a guest). ao priap To take advantage of aphai Forgiving; forgiveness baan nork Up country with a suggestion of being ‘country’ Cf. tangjangwat (another province) beu-a Bored or boring. Also used to mean ‘had enough’ as in beu-a laexv bunkhun To make merit by showing gratitude to one’s parents cher-y Indifferent; hence chai chery (remain unruffled); keep something inside cheua theu kan To trust, also cheu-a jai dek Child / boy / girl, hence dek chai (boy) or dekying (girl) doo thook Look down on someone eut at To feel uncomfortable, oppressed farang Non-Asians feun jai To force oneself; also to resist jit jai Decided, determined hen jai To be empathetic hen kae ngern Used to having money; too fond of money klaa To dare, as in klaa tarn (dare to work as a male sex worker) klai chit Close, intimate kreng jai Consideration and ‘presentation’ of appropriate respect; not do anything that will cause someone to lose face. khai borikaan To sell a service, hencepoochai borikaan - male sex worker khee kiat Lazy; used idiomatically to mean to not feel like doing something. khern Embarrassed kbit theung To think about someone, to miss someone; hence, kit teung baan (to be homesick). khop kan Mix with friends khwaam raap reun Smooth interactions liang To support financially; to raise lork, lork luang To cheat, to trick mai kery Never (used when talking about the past) mai pror Impropriety; impolite
225 mai tern jai Half-heartedly man jai Confident, also used to express trust naa Face, hence khai naa / sia nah (to lose face) naathee Duty; hence pen naathee (one’s duty) nisai Habit, manner
‘ver SI. to exaggerate (from the English, over as in over the top) pen kan ayng To feel at home; to make oneself at home pert ohk A double entendre meaning literally to bare a bosom but also to speak frankly phaap-phot Image phoochai Male phooying Female phooying praphet Lit. second type of women. Refers to kathoey sorng prasopkaan Experience; hence prasopkaan rak ruam phet (homosexual experience) pra-tap jai To be impressed by something preut-ti-kam Behaviour pai tio To go out somewhere; used in many contexts but can mean for sex, as in tio phooying/ phoochai (sex with a woman / man) py reu-y reu-y To take it easy, to go with the flow rap pit chorp To accept responsibility, be responsible rap paak Say yes, agree to do something, to promise roo jai To be sympathetic roo jak kan maa naan To know someone for a long time; used to express closeness or intimacy sabai At ease, comfortable; hence sabai jai (happy, to feel good) sia hai Damaged; hence mai sia hai (not damage one ’s reputation) sia naa Lose face sia jai Express regret that something was wasted e.g. sia dai cheewit (one’s life or opportunity in life is wasted) siang Risky; at risk sadaeng To show; hence sa-daeng ork (to show ones feelings or true nature) SI. to ‘act’ ‘gay’; hence, mai sa-daeng ork (to act straight) sanit Close, as in sanit laew, to express intimacy sanuk A good time; hence tio sanuk (having fun) seng Bored (from Chinese word), stronger than beu-a song saan Feel sorry for someone s ’ponser To sponsor; be a sponsor
226 tarn Low, as in low class
thahaan Soldier
tham jai To accept or put up with; hence tham jai dai (able to accept)
thon To bear or put up with; hence tong thon (have to put up with something)
thook jai Pleasing
tor rong kap khaek Negotiate with a customer; hence kaan tor rong kap khaek (negotiation)
tor soo cheewit Literally to fight and beat life; to overcome an obstacle
b. words used by the men to talk about sex/sexuality
aep doo To sneak a look, as in watching someone else have sex
aep thio Sneak out to the bars
ao To take; rough term for sex, particularly as in ao kan (do it together); khao ao phom (he fucked me)
ao dai mot SI. can do everything (sexually adventurous)
aojaikhaek To do what the customer wants; please the customer; also taam jai khaek
ao pratoo lang Lit. to enter the back gate; to be actively insertive in anal sex
baep nai Lit. ‘what style’; si. for asking about sexual preference as khun chorp tio baep nai (what do you like to do?)
bai SI. bisexual, also seu-a bai
bar Bar, hence bar go-go (go-go bar) and bar nang (lit. sitting bar)
chai Male, boy, man; hence phet chai as in male (cf. phet ying - female)
chai paak Lit. use the mouth. SI. term for fellatio
chak wao Lit. kite flying; si. for jerking off
chorp phooying Lit. to like women; in this sense, to name one’s sexual preference
chorp phoochai To like men, to name a sexual preference for men
chorp mot Lit. to like everything; can perform all sexual roles or go with either men or women dek bar A male sex worker in the bar dek haa kin Lit. child looking for food, an idiom meaning look for work (also haa kin) dek khai nam Lit. a youth who sells his ‘water’ (from nam asuji = sperm) i.e. male sex worker dek khai tua A youth who sells his/her body; a young sex worker dek off A dek who works the bar and is taken off by a customer
227 doot To suck as on a straw; si. for oral sex ee-aep Closeted fai rook The invading side; the active insertive partner fai rap The receiving side; the anal receptive partner faen Boy friend / girlfriend; colloq, for husband or wife fang To penetrate, si. for insertive sex gay From gay gay king A man who presents a masculine gender image in male-male sex; the active insertive male gay queen A man who plays the anal receptive role in anal sex haa sip, haa sip Lit. fifty-fifty; si. term for bisexual hai tam Let ‘do’; si. for being anal receptive hai pratoo lang Lit. to ‘give’ ones back door; si. for being anal receptive joob To kiss khai tua Lit. to sell one’s body kathoey a transgender kathoey Hang a kathoey who looks after her man, buys him drinks and shirts khai borikaan lit. sell a service; hence dek khai borikaan , a formal term for a male sex worker khai tua sell one’s body - both male and female sex workers khoo-ay SI. term among men for penis; equivalent to the use of ‘cock’ or ‘dick’ in English len Lit. to play’; used as a euphemism for having sex e.g. lenphoochai, len phooying len peuan Lit. play with friend; si. term for lesbian len raeng To ‘play rough’; si. term for rough sex. mai leuak Lit. not choose; will have sex with either women or men mai sa-daeng ork To not show one’s feelings; also to not act ‘gay’ or effeminate mee aa-rom In the mood, wanting sex mua To have many partners or to have group sex nak tio A player, party animal nam ork To ejaculate nam asuji Formal term for sperm nam taek SI. to ejaculate; hence the expression nam taek laew, jayaek taang, to go separate ways after ejaculating. This expression may reflect the short term nature of many homosexual encounters (just here for the sex). But it was also used by the male sex workers as a metaphor for limiting their emotional involvement with customers. ngian SI. Horny
228 Off From ‘off; bar slang meaning to take a boy off from the bar, to go off with a customer. Hence dek off or khaa off (the bar fee). phoochai tern tua Lit. a full man; a ‘real’ or ‘straight’ man phoochai roi persen 100% man, a ‘straight’ man phoochai tae tae ‘Real’ men phooying kor dai, Will have sex with either women or men phuchai kor dai plian rot chaat Lit. to change taste; idiom meaning to have variety in sex pratoo lang Lit. the back gate, anus; hence phcingpratoo lang, to enter the anus forcefully pong kan Protect oneself; use a condom raet Promiscuous rap To receive, as in rap khaek (look after the customer); also to take the receptive role in anal sex rook Lit. to invade; hence fai rook (the one who plays the insertive role in anal sex) saa-dit From sadist, sadistic sao Young girl, hence feminine acting male s ’moke (from smoke); si. for oral sex sio Thrilling sek From sex; hence sek moo, to have sex with two or more partners at one time set Literally ‘finished’; si. for ejaculation (set laew) seu tua dai seu hua jai lit. [they] can buy our bodies but not our hearts. An expression mai dai used by the sex worker to rationalise sex work and to distance themselves from the clients siap To pierce or insert; si. to fuck; hence took siap (to get fucked) sophanee Formal term used in medical and official reports to describe prostitute; hence sophanee ying (female sex worker) and sophanee chai (male sex worker) tam bar Work in the bar tarn mai ngai jang SI. why is it so easy?; used to refer to easy sex or to comment on someone being ‘easy.’ take From ‘take’; as in take laew, when a customer has paid the off fee to the bar work From the English term ‘work’. SI. to go off with a customer yaa lor-leun Lubricant / KY yung To mess around
229 Appendix III Guideline Focus Questions for In-depth Interviews
a. Questions for male sex workers
1. Background - where from; family (numbers and occupation); life at home; schooling; and length of time in Bangkok.
2. Work career - passage from first job to sex work.
3. Getting started in bar work - when did you begin (how long)?; how did you learn about the bars?; why sex work?; kinds of sex work experience (free-lance, go-go number of locations etc); identity/gender career.
4. Learning the ropes - what was it like when you first began?; what was explained?; who talked to you about what to do/how to work the bars?
5. Working the bars - how do you get the customers to notice you?; what do you say/do when a customer calls you over; (negotiation probe) do you talk about price/sexual performance?; (if yes) what do you say?
6. Highlights - how has your life improved since starting sex work?; describe a ‘good’ customer; describe a good experience you’ve had; what made it good?
7. Lowlights - have you ever had a bad experiences with a customer?; describe that experience; what did you do?/how did you react?; what would you do differently next time?
8. Building on experience - suppose your nong [younger ‘brother’ or friend] was starting bar work for the first time, what advice would you give him?
9. Health - what does a bar worker need to do to take care of his health?; {probe} understandings of HIV/testing and sexual safety/source of information/how to reach sex workers (effective interventions); what is your risk of contracting HIV?
10. Following through - do you think that what we have talked about today has been useful? Do you have any questions for me?; {probe} What worries do you have?
230 b. Questions for customers
1. Background - where from; occupation; reason for being in Bangkok; {if tourist} number of visits; length of stay; relationship status.
2. Making the most of Bangkok - where do you go to meet men in Thailand; {probe} range of non-commercial and commercial venues; preferences and why?.
3. Buy sex - when (how long)?; how did you learn about the bar scene in Bangkok?; is this something you only do in Thailand; {probe} where else?; {probe} what is that you like about the bars?
4. Learning the ropes - what was it like when you first went into a bar (comfortable or not and why)?; how did you know what to do?/the rules and codes?
5. Working the bars - how do you catch a worker’s attention?; what do you say/do when a worker comes over to sit with you; {negotiation probe} do you talk about price/sexual performance?; (if yes) what do you say?
6. Highlights -describe a ‘good’ sex worker; describe a good experience you’ve had; what made it good?
7. Lowlights - have you ever had a bad experiences with a sex worker?; describe that experience; what did you do?/how did you react?; what would you do differently next time?
8. Building on experience - suppose your were going to give advice to a guy doing bar work for the first time, what would you tell him?
9. Health - is there a safe sex culture in the bars?/among the Thai menIfarang you’ve met; {probe} understandings of HIV/testing and sexual safety/sources of information; what is your risk of contracting HIV?
10. Following through - do you think that what we have talked about today has been useful? Do you have any questions for me?; {probe} What concerns do you have?
Note: A similar format was used for all interviews but with the Thai customers I tended to avoid more personal questions about family and place of work. 1 usually asked questions about work at the end if the information had not arisen during the interview.
231 Appendix IV. Actions, interactions, decision-making points
Ehlich and Rehbein’s interest (1974) in the social determination of human praxis drew together Marxist interpretations (Marx 1957) of the interrelationships between language and participant interaction in a restaurant setting. They illustrated their understandings of the restaurant process by developing a ‘praxeogram’ to describe the ‘sequence of doings’ essential to achieving the production, circulation and consumption of food (the commodity) in a restaurant. The praxeogram comprised a set of three units (pragmemes) that delineated the actions, interactions and decision making points for the various actors in the restaurant. Ehlich and Rehbein’s framework provides a tool for further analysing the interactions in the bars.
The actors in the bar are the kaptan, the sex workers, the customers, and the barman and cashier. Actions may be either verbal (such as ordering a drink), or non-verbal (such as watching a worker go-go dance or ‘catching an eye’). Interactions describe doings that occur between (at least) two actors. The decision points fix moments when one of the actors is provided with a choice; for example, when a customer first walks into a bar and looks around, he may decide that the bar is not to his liking and walk out again. There are two commodities of exchange in the bars, boys and booze, and it is the job of the kaptan to expedite their flow, and thereby maximise the number of payments made - Would you like another drink, sir? Which boy would you like? Thus, in constructing a praxeogram for the bar nang and bar go- go, 1 have distinguished payment as a fourth pragmeme. Each praxeogram builds on the scripts explicated in the bar talk in chapter four.
Figure la shows the actors in the bars and their possible interactions. In the bar nang, the kaptan mediates the negotiation process so that the interactions between a customer and worker are confined initially to non-verbal communication.
In the bar nang, the customer Cashier/barman can only make contact with a bar worker non-verbally or via workers the kaptan. That is, the kaptan mediates the interaction and ‘advises’ the customer on his kaptan selection. Once the customer customers has made a decision, the kaptan then calls the worker over to sit with the customer.
Figure 1a Actors and their interactions in the bar nang
232 cashier/barman qo-qo area In the bar ten, the customer is able to interact both with the kaptan and the worker. workers > Interactions with the worker may be either verbal or non verbal. The customer can also kaptan call on the kaptan to help him make his final selection. customers
Figure 1b Actors and their interactions in the barten
Key: Verbal interaction with kaptan <------> Verbal interaction with bar staff <...... Non-verbal interaction
In the bar ten, however, the customer has the option of either interacting directly with the worker or asking the kaptan to mediate (Figure lb). This means that distinct praxeograms emerge for the bar nang and the bar ten Figure 2 shows a typical praxeogram for the bar nang: twenty two interactions are identified from the time the customer enters the bar through to his leaving with a worker. Ten of these interactions take place between the kaptan and the customer. A further three take place between the kaptan and worker, and only three engage the customer and worker together. The remaining six involve either the barman or cashier (getting the drinks or passing on the bill) and do not usually engage the customer in any way (except in small bars like the Oasis where the owner fills the role of barman, cashier and kaptan). If we consider only those sixteen moves that engage the principal actors, the kaptan, worker and customer, then it is apparent that the kaptan is involved in 80 percent (13/16) of the key moves, whereas the worker and customer are only engaged in 20 percent of the key moves.
If we turn next to the typical praxeogram given for the bar ten (Figure 3), we see that the initial moves are essentially the same. However, once the customer has his drink, he is able to interact directly with a worker if he so wishes. The worker is also able to make his own decisions along the way, for example, he can decide whether or not to approach the customer (move 13), or to move away from the customer (move 19b). In addition, the worker and customer interact sooner in the bar ten (move 13) than they do in the bar nang (move 18).
233 42 41 40 38 37 36 35 34 33 32 29 28 27 39 31 30 26 25 23 22 21 20 24 Figure 07 06 05 04 03 02 01 09 08 19 18 17 16 15 14 13 12 11 10 customer worker customer kaptan cashier kaptan customer kaptan kaptan worker worker customer kaptan customer customer customer kaptan worker barman barman kaptan kaptan worker kaptan barman Customer customer kaptan kaptan kaptan kaptan customer kaptan kaptan kaptan kaptan barman barman barman kaptan customer customer
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are .
shown.) References
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