by Maiko Sawada
Introduction: Love, Memory, and the Spaces in Between
In November 2022, a small exhibition in Tokyo quietly included a same-sex couple’s partnership certificate in a section about changing Japanese family structures. Placed beside wedding photos, kimonos, and household registration forms, the document seemed modest — but its presence was radical. In a society where same-sex marriage is still unrecognized by the state, and where museums rarely acknowledge queer existence, the image of a socially constructed legitimacy of couple signaled a shift. Not only in law, but in public memory.
Across Asia, marriage is not just a legal arrangement — it’s a cultural ideal, a symbol of legitimacy, and a site of political struggle. For example, Alimahomed (2010) contends that queer women of Asian and Pacific Islander descent face overlapping forms of oppression that push them to the fringes of society. For LGBTQ+ communities in Japan, Taiwan, and Thailand, the right to marry intersects with questions of identity, visibility, and belonging. But while legal frameworks vary across countries, so too do the ways these relationships are remembered, represented, or erased in public spaces — from national museums to local archives, popular media to performance.
This essay examines the ways in which public history and cultural institutions both reflect and construct societal understandings of queer love and marriage in Japan, Taiwan, and Thailand. By analyzing historical narratives, museum exhibitions, and evolving legal frameworks, I argue that the struggle for LGBTQ+ equality in Asia extends beyond legal reform; it is also a deeply archival, visual, and historically grounded endeavor.
Japan: Silence, Slow Shifts, and the Limits of Representation
Japan’s legal system currently does not recognize same-sex marriage. While over 300 municipalities now offer symbolic “partnership certificates” to same-sex couples, these have no binding legal authority (Human Rights Watch, 2022). Couples may gain limited access to housing or hospital visitation rights, but are still excluded from inheritance, joint adoption, and the broader protections afforded to married heterosexual couples.
In popular discourse, Japan is often framed as a nation that tolerates queerness so long as it remains private — a “don’t ask, don’t tell” culture. LGBTQ+ characters may appear in manga, television, or variety shows, but rarely are they acknowledged as part of real-life family structures. Marriage, in its symbolic and bureaucratic weight, remains tightly bound to heteronormative expectations of reproduction, inheritance, and social conformity (McLelland, 2005).
This silence is echoed in Japan’s public memory. National museums and historical institutions rarely, if ever, represent LGBTQ+ lives. Exhibits on family or gender roles overwhelmingly focus on traditional, cis-heterosexual narratives. Queer stories are absent not because they never existed, but because they have not been archived, collected, or institutionally validated.
Yet, there are signs of change. Local community archives and independent museums have begun integrating LGBTQ+ histories into their programming. In 2021, an exhibition in Osaka’s Nakanoshima Library included testimonies from same-sex couples about their experiences with marriage and family rejection (Kyodo News, 2021). These moments remain isolated, but powerful. They remind us that queer love has always existed — and that public history can be a tool of both erasure and resistance.
Taiwan: Queer Rights as National Identity and Democratic Expression
In May 2019, Taiwan became the first country in Asia to legalize same-sex marriage (Taipei Times, 2019). The images that followed — rainbow flags flying from government buildings, queer couples holding public ceremonies, celebratory crowds gathered outside the Legislative Yuan — were quickly circulated around the world. These moments were not just about policy change. They were symbolic: declarations that queer love belonged not only in private life, but in the nation’s official narrative of progress and pride.
Taiwan’s marriage equality law did not emerge in isolation. It was the result of decades of activism, legal battles, and public education campaigns (Bao, 2018). Crucially, it coincided with the rise of a distinct Taiwanese political identity — one defined increasingly in opposition to authoritarianism and mainland China’s policies. In this context, LGBTQ+ rights became part of a broader democratic project.
This fusion of queer rights and national identity is visible not only in law, but in Taiwan’s cultural institutions. The National Human Rights Museum has hosted exhibitions highlighting LGBTQ+ histories, and archival projects like “Queer Taiwan” have worked to preserve personal stories, documents, and photographs that would otherwise remain invisible (Chen, 2022).
There’s also a striking difference in tone. In Taiwan, queer narratives are framed not as subcultural or marginal, but as mainstream and forward-looking. Pride marches attract tens of thousands and are frequently attended by government officials. Public television broadcasts queer do cumentaries. University programs in gender and sexuality studies are flourishing.
Of course, social change is uneven. Stigma plays a central role in causing harm by subtly and openly devaluing non-normative relationships. It shapes laws and their enforcement, limiting both recognition and the scope of rights granted. But institutionally, Taiwan’s approach reflects a fundamental shift: LGBTQ+ lives are not only included in the nation’s story – they are helping to tell it.
Thailand: Visibility Without Infrastructure
At first glance, Thailand appears to be one of the most LGBTQ+-friendly countries in Asia. Queer and trans people are highly visible in Thai media — from television dramas and pop culture to influencers and beauty pageants. Bangkok’s pride events are vibrant, colorful, and unapologetic. The longstanding presence of gender-diverse identities, such as kathoey (often translated as “ladyboys”), gives the impression of a culture that has long embraced fluidity (Jackson, 2009).
And yet, this visibility masks a more complex reality. As of 2025, Thailand still does not offer full marriage equality. Civil union bills have been proposed —and gained momentum under recent administrations— but legal recognition remains incomplete (Bangkok Post, 2023). Trans individuals continue to face legal barriers, such as being unable to change gender markers on
official documents. While cultural acceptance is strong in certain urban and entertainment spaces, legal protections and institutional recognition lag behind.
This disconnect also appears in Thailand’s public history. LGBTQ+ stories are highly present in performance, nightlife, and digital media — but largely absent in museums, school textbooks, and official archives. Memory work in Thailand is often grassroots, creative, and ephemeral. Drag performers tell queer histories on stage. Online platforms host oral histories and photo archives. Artists and independent scholars carry the burden of remembrance (Arthit, 2020).
Still, there’s something powerful in the way memory circulates informally in Thailand. Queer love is celebrated publicly even when not formally recorded. Couples post wedding-style photoshoots online, despite lacking legal recognition. Activists combine street protest with performance and ritual. In these expressions, we see a form of memory that is alive, embodied, and communal — even if it hasn’t yet been enshrined in the national narrative.
Thailand’s case reminds us that visibility does not guarantee rights — and that without institutional memory, even visible love can remain vulnerable to erasure.
Conclusion: Memory is a Battleground for Love
Across Japan, Taiwan, and Thailand, LGBTQ+ people continue to fight for the right to marry — and for something deeper: the right to be seen, remembered, and valued. Each national context offers its own story. In Japan, public history remains hesitant, but grassroots efforts are growing. In Taiwan, queer rights have become symbols of national pride and democratic strength. In Thailand, cultural visibility is high, yet legal and archival infrastructures remain thin.
What ties these stories together is the role of memory. Marriage is not just a legal contract, it is a symbolic act that links the personal with the political, the intimate with the institutional. When museums choose not to display queer love, they reinforce erasure. When archives ignore same-sex partnerships, they deny history. And when public narratives fail to include LGBTQ+ families, they diminish what love can mean.
But when queer relationships are preserved, exhibited, and celebrated, they gain power — not only to change laws, but to change how society imagines itself.
As a public historian working in Japan and internationally, I’ve seen how history is always up for negotiation. It is not neutral. And that’s why LGBTQ+ marriage is not just about the future. It’s also about the past — and who gets to be part of it.
References
Arthit, R. (2020). Queer memory and performance in Thailand. Journal of Southeast Asian Cultural Studies, 12(2), 88-102.
Bangkok Post. (2023, June 15). Thailand edges closer to passing same-sex union bill. https:// www.bangkokpost.com
Bao, H. (2018). Queer comrades: Gay identity and tongzhi activism in postsocialist China. NIAS Press.
Chen, Y. L. (2022). Archives of desire: Queer Taiwan and the politics of memory. Taiwan Historical Review, 29(1), 45-68.
Human Rights Watch. (2022, February). Japan: Same-sex partnership system expanding, but not enough*. https://www.hrw.org
Jackson, P. A. (2009). Thai Buddhist accounts of male homosexuality and AIDS in the 1990s. In M. J. O’Hara (Ed.), Gender and sexuality in modern Thailand* (pp. 203–221). Silkworm Books.
Kyodo News. (2021, November 20). Osaka exhibit highlights voices of same-sex couples. https:// english.kyodonews.net
McLelland, M. (2005). Queer Japan from the Pacific War to the Internet age. Rowman & Littlefield. Taipei Times. (2019, May 18). Taiwan legalizes same-sex marriage. https://www.taipeitimes.com
Maiko Sawada is a media and communication specialist based in Japan, specialising in gender, museums, and digital humanities. She is the director of ebicompany Inc. and editor of a transnational journal on media literacy in Japan/Asia. Her work focuses on public memory and digital storytelling in Japan/Asia, Europe and Global South.
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