For full context: I am Zoe Cheong, a bisexual, demisexual, demiromantic, polyamorous trans feminine non-binary person. The pronouns I use are they/them and she/her. In the following, the term queer* is used to collectively refer to lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, asexual, aromantic and questioning people, with the asterisk being included to signify that there are more labels that describe people within our community that may not have been listed, but are included nonetheless. Note that all answers pertaining to the industry are based on my experience as a queer* PhD student based in Australia.

What is your job like?

I’m a PhD student with a focus on experimental work. My day-to-day research involves tinkering with physical (think wrenches and pipes) and electrical settings, as well as learning about system control (i.e. how a detector and a computer talk with each other). I am also learning how to use a variety of coding programs for data manipulation and analysis, and also how to think extremely critically about problems. In addition, I am a lab demonstrator for second year physics students, which is just as challenging as it requires me to completely understand the setup and be able to pinpoint where a student has misunderstood, oftentimes on the spot without too much time to think about it.

Are there many LGBTQ+ Asians in the industry?

I wouldn’t say there are many of us, no. Being a publicly transitioning trans feminine person, as well as a very extroverted person with ADHD, me being queer is probably one of the first things that anyone learns of me. Most of the queer* Asians I know are cisgender, and more of them are “I’ll say so if someone asks”, but it’s not as easy to notice that they are not heteronormative.

Did you feel discouraged to enter your industry because of your sexual orientation? Were you afraid to come out in this industry?  

No. My sexual orientation, in my opinion, has played almost no role in me considering a PhD program. 

In regards to my sexual orientation, no. I don’t think I’ve explicitly stated it in full to anyone at work either. With coming out as transgender was a different thing. At first it was nerve wracking to come out to my main supervisor in my honours year, and at the time I thought my gender was just plain androgynous non-binary. I have since come out twice more to my group, once when I picked my new name, and another when I realised I wasn’t an androgynous non-binary person but a trans feminine non-binary person. Coming out has become easier and easier since then, the people in my department are either accepting and affirming; and even if they don’t fully understand the concept of gender they are willing to learn more.   


Have you ever felt like you were treated differently because of your sexual orientation?

No, I don’t think so. I feel that most people don’t actively think about who they’re attracted to at work. On that note though there is still sexism and misogyny. My example is a cishet Asian woman with whom I did my undergraduate with. She is one of the most accomplished women in research for our age group and she was once asked by a middle aged Asian man in the department if learning physics was harder because of her gender. 

In particular, that’s an experience that’s Australia-centric and I’d argue unique to the universities in major cities that have a large hipster and queer* community outside of the university limits. Having talked to a colleague’s wife who used to work in the European Organization for Nuclear Research (CERN) recently, I was horrified at how different it was. She is an Italian bisexual disabled woman who’s interested in the experimental side of things, and she was repeatedly told she was not enough, either because of her disability or because she was a woman, by men who think she is an outlier for completing her master’s in physics and that the problems faced by minorities are something they choose and not part of a larger systematic problem. She also mentioned that there is still no official CERN queer* group, despite there being a queer* community at CERN trying to organise it. 

In what ways has your identity served as a strength?

Finding labels that finally fit my queerness did a lot for my self confidence, assertiveness, and ability to confidently interact with colleagues, who range from my age at around 20 to up to 80. As I put in a lot of work and pain to find my true self, and I love and respect that experience enough, I will not allow people to disrespect or intentionally mistreat me. This translates well across all aspects of my life, but pertaining to work it means I always correct people when they misgender me, and I’m more assertive and confident in general compared to before I came out. 

I also find myself doing a lot of outreach as a queer* Asian scientist--such as this interview and how Red Pocket Magazine found me to begin with! At first, it was me being very public in real life about my queerness, which led to me reflecting on the impact that that had on representation. I came to the conclusion that just by existing as a physicist, in a field that has traditionally and still is dominated by cis men; I was doing something very important for my queer* peers and the younger students who are just starting out. In my honours year alone, just by being out and not actively doing anything, I had 4 cohort mates come out to me saying they didn’t realise they could talk about being queer* while in a physics studying environment. 

In March, I was a lab demonstrator for three queer* 19 year-olds. I found out that one of them had used they/them pronouns on their Facebook account, and so I used those pronouns the next time the group met, and sent them tips on being non-binary in the department. The little action I took sent ripples as they came out as non-binary a month later. I only learned afterwards that when I reached out, they had only just started trying out gender neutral pronouns as well as questioning their gender and were worried about what their gender would mean to their education experience. So now I try my best to be as visible as possible on all platforms I can reach, not just for my own comfort but also for any people who are questioning their sexuality and/or gender in STEM. This also indirectly helps with my confidence of being a queer* Asian. It’s a mix of “well I have to be this confident person for their sake” and “if I can tell someone these things are true, I should be able to believe in the words applying to myself.” (e.g. trans people are worthy. I am trans people, therefore I must also be worthy.)

Lastly, and this is probably a more narcissistic reason, being that it adds to my feelings of accomplishment. I can point to specific instances of my life and say I helped someone else come to terms with themself.

What steps do you think your industry could take to be more inclusive?

Again, this is an extremely Australia-centric experience and I’d even argue to a certain extent unique to ANU (where I work). I think the physics research community in particular has actively been taking steps to be more inclusive. Most research universities have some form of ally training to educate cishet people about queer experiences and how to respect queer people. However, I think something everyone could do would be to include their pronouns in their email signatories. This normalises the practice among cisgender people and makes transgender people feel safer to come out and get people using the right pronouns for themselves.

Do you feel that your PhD program is supportive of you, as an Asian part of the LGBTQ+ community?

Yes. My department has a large variety of ethnicities present which in some sense normalises the idea that physics isn’t just a cis-white men club. The general culture being supportive of my queerness is also very good. In particular, I was told by the local student admins that it was possible to change my gender in the university system itself. The process was long and with its own minor challenges, but it was very worth it. I am the first PhD student in physics who changed their gender to non-binary within the university system itself and my title is also changed from Mr. to Mx.

Finally, what advice do you have for LGBTQ+ Asian youth who are looking to enter your industry? What advice do you have in general, for their journey as an LGBTQ+ person?

Academia is an industry that doesn’t so much prize insane smartness (although that does give an edge) as much as the ability to persist on problems most people would have given up on. You could be the smartest kid ever, but there will come a problem at some point that you can’t solve within a day or a week. Whether or not that person crumbles then and there is what sets people apart in academia. So if you’re seriously contemplating going into academia, but fear “not being smart enough”, chances are you definitely are enough, and are capable of persisting and meeting the challenging expectations. 

Being out about your queerness is obviously a choice that you will have to make for yourself, but as it stands now the industry is on the brink of change. In super general terms, despite the example in question 4, I believe most institutions are starting to recognise how badly academia as a system has failed young girls, and are starting to learn how to better actively include queer academics. What that means is that your voices matter even more than before. As a physics academic, you’re on roughly equal ground with your peers. As a minority that the university wants to target and help to be more inclusive, either for actual moral or their-ability-to-say-they’re-inclusive reasons, we are a rare commodity. We are the people they will ask for advice from to approach the problem, which can lead to networking opportunities and job offers. So what that concretely means is: be confident and assertive about the things and changes you’d like to see. You might be wrong, or ask for too much, or whatever intrusive thought your anxiety/imposter syndrome/depression tries to tell you. But there is an equal probability that you might be right, and there is an equal probability that you make positive change not just for yourself but for every single queer* Asian that comes after you.

In general, the journey is going to be hard. There’s no way around that truth. The journey will be hard. But sweetheart, if no one has told you recently, it’s worth it. You will be much, much happier being yourself and knowing you have inherent worth just for existing and breathing, and you’re not an evil spawn of the devil destined for hell because of your sexuality or gender. My advice would be to be persistent and to know that you will be okay. It will be okay. Don’t ever give up. You have queer* Asians in your corner and we can do this together.

Thank you Zoe for representing queer* Asians and for interviewing with us!