Queer Prom Event Relives ‘Big Dance’ – on Own Terms

When Ameera went to their high school prom, it was a lavender situation.

They identified as a lesbian at the time and attended with their male gay best friend to Bourne Mansion on Long Island, where Taylor Swift would later film her “Blank Space” music video. The two of them went by the books, exchanging corsages, taking photos while staring deeply into each other’s eyes, slow dancing and nearly kissing.

“Of course we wouldn’t,” they said in a melodic voice, and with a visceral shudder. “Because imagine me kissing a man, good golly!”

Ameera, who asked to be identified by first name only, was a reigning monarch from last year’s inaugural Queer Asian American Pacific Islander Prom royal court, having won the deciding fashion contest along with three others. Hosted by the National Association of Asian American Professionals, or NAAAP, the Boston event offers a way for queer Asian American and Pacific Islander adults to re-experience the classic high school experience on their own terms.

The theme of this year’s event was “Keep fighting, keep dancing,” inspired by a quote from queer writer and activist Dan Savage. In the quote, he relates how during the height of the AIDS crisis, the queer community buried their friends in the morning, protested in the afternoon and danced all through the night. “The dance kept us in the fight because it was the dance we were fighting for,” he said. As LGBTQ+ rights continue to be curtailed, recently exemplified by the Supreme Court’s ruling to uphold bans on gender affirming care for transgender youth in Tennessee, Savage’s words continue to be relevant and prescient.

Many queer Asians were not out in high school, reflected Cindy Truong, the Vice President of Diversity, Equity, Inclusion and Belonging at NAAAP. Truong, who was a part of the event’s organizing Pride Committee, was only open about their high school girlfriend with a few select friends. Truong went to Fontbonne, a private all-girls Catholic high school in Massachusetts, which at the time had traditional, heteronormative ideas of sexual orientation and gender expression. They faced pushback from school administration when they wanted to do a project on queerphobic bullying for their senior capstone. Fortunately, there was one theology teacher, Mr. Wessman, who went out of his way to bring writings from pro-LGBTQ+ Catholic figures to the administration.

“I’ll never forget it because this was his first teaching job after grad school and he put his job on the line for me,” they said. Truong was allowed to pursue the project and later won a social justice award named after longtime Fontbonne teacher Mary J. Baker. But at prom, they didn’t feel comfortable bringing their girlfriend as a date. Instead, each showed up individually and took photos with a group of friends. When the party got going, the pair snuck away to capture the prom photos they wanted, while their closest friends covered for them.

In creating this space for adults, the goal was to allow people to show up however felt true to themselves. “It’s just very liberating to be able to not only express yourself but to meet others in the community who have had similar experiences and backgrounds,” Truong said.

Several dozen queer AAPI and allies filled the main room of Stage Karaoke in Allston for the evening event, cheering and waving rainbow flags as a handful of hopefuls strutted across the stage for the fashion show. Given one sentence to promote anything, they urged the audience to “read banned books,” “dance or die,” and “free Palestine.” In the end, three were chosen by judges from the Boston chapter of the Queer Asian Pacific Islander Association and the Massachusetts Asian and Pacific Islanders for Health association.

Simon Liang became a new monarch of this year’s royal court after his husband encouraged him to take to the stage. The two have been together for ten years after meeting in college, when Liang was at the University of Chicago and his husband attended the nearby Illinois Institute of Technology. They were married last year, and this June have been busy jumping around Boston pride events, including the rainy Pride parade and protest a week earlier.

Being onstage was good practice for his upcoming drag debut at a work pride event, which Liang is helping plan. While he was dressed casually in a kitsune covered graphic tee at Queer AAPI Prom, Liang is excited to try on platform heels and a goth-punk, Wednesday Addams-inspired look for his drag persona.

“The representation for queer AAPI spaces in general is very far and few in between, which encourages me to speak up and help build out the spaces,” he said. “There’s just not many of us, especially in corporate America.”

After the election of the royal court, drag king and drag teacher Jayden Jamison took over the stage. He spoke about a challenge many queer Asian people face —not feeling like they fit in either community. Outside of drag, Jamison’s name is Quyen Tran, and Tran uses she/her pronouns, while her drag persona Jamison uses he/him. Growing up as a Vietnamese refugee, she never fit into the traditional gender roles. “But in queer scenes, I was the only gaysian there,” she said, using a colloquial term for gay Asian. After the speech came a foot-stomping performance where Jamison strutted around the floor to “Shut Up and Dance” by Walk the Moon.

Once the karaoke portion of the evening began, audience members became the stars. Individually or in duos, they sang their hearts out to Chappell Roan and belted out Celine Dion while the crowd waved phone flashlights and screamed lyrics. On the dance floor, friends and lovers busted out their dance moves, spinning under the colored lights and forming a spontaneous conga line that zig-zagged between low tables.

Ameera came to this year’s prom with friends, dressed to reflect his Bengali and Pakistani heritage with an assortment of colorful bangles. They reflected on both the joy of the night’s festivities, and the bittersweet feelings it brought up.

“I feel like it’s a bit late for me, but it’s nice to see the kids are able to be themselves, be out and be proud and don’t have to fight as hard as I did,” he said. Back when they were leading their small Long Island high school’s first Gay Straight Alliance, Ameera experienced protests and violence against club members, and had to provide psychological support to fellow students while going through the same issues. As an adult, being a butch, masculine presenting queer person has led to its own share of difficult experiences.

“It’s not easy being queer and being Muslim and being South Asian, where you’re kind of hated in all spaces you go,” they said. “So, you make your own.”

Ameera considers the continuing legislative and social challenges to LGBTQ+ rights to be both a danger for their fellow queer people, and a sign of progress. “They’re angrier than before, because we’re no longer hiding,” Ameera said. “I’m here, I’m not going anywhere, and I’ve had enough time in the closet myself.”

As Truong knows, perspectives can change. In 2023 they received a peer-nominated Dear Neighbor award from Fontbonne for their BIPOC and LGBTQ+ related community advocacy work. Ten years after graduating, Truong went back to their high school as an openly non-binary alum to accept the award. This time, they were welcomed with open arms.