Written for the Lion City Slam, Oct 2014.
x
Marylyn Tan

east chapter of iglesia ni christo
means the entire aljunied district
stretching all the way from eunos to geylang lorong 40.
here, people watch you all the time.

here a boy I used to know
learnt the dual meanings of xiao di
while walking home in the evenings
as nice women enquired after his own.

but all I got were old men
pretending to doze in the middle of the day.
here I decided I could wear whatever I wanted
because, no matter what, people will whistle
at nothing in particular.

when they started to stop I thought, yes.
perhaps they sensed a certain untouchability,
an immutable irreverence,
a wildness that cannot be tamed by
wayward whistles and other impotent signals
of false machismo.

or maybe it was just that I’d
acquired an excellent pair
of noise-cancelling earphones.

here, people watch you all the time.

east chapter of iglesia ni christo means
people might recognize you anywhere from
the post office at paya lebar to
pasar malams at tanjong katong.

dating a member of
a tiny exclusive religious group is not so different
from being queer, really:
what is the point of passing for straight
if your church doesn’t allow you to date?

have you ever been surrounded
by well-meaning parishoners texting their mothers
sitting across from you on public transport
that you’re his singaporean shota scandal?

in aljunied big brother stands behind a pulpit.
in aljunied instead of surveillance cameras they use
altar boys and choir members.

I didn’t stop being catholic for this.
I came out to raise the roof, not my hackles
so I gnawed my wrist off at the shackle
and fled, told you I am now a gay witch
for abortions (don’t pray for us, we’ll pray for you)

I broke up with an entire church.

again.

east chapter of iglesia ni christo means
I am still trying to evict the memory of feeling like a wrong turn
in the unfamiliar neighbourhood
of my own conscience.

east chapter means I wear earphones and
don’t hold hands in aljunied
with anyone
any more.