Lotto the ticket fora marginalised community
EACH night that Nha Vy steps on stage in her traditional Vietnamese ao dai, or sometimes a mini dress and heels, memories grow fainter of the taunts she endured as a transgender woman in her rural village.
Nha Vy is one of hundreds of LGBT performers in Vietnam who have found confidence, and a way to earn a living, through lotto shows, a form of entertainment dating back to the French colonial era and now wildly popular in the south.
Like many sexual and gender minority people in Vietnam, the 26-year-old has faced stigma and discrimination for much of her life – despite a gradual change in social attitudes in the communist state.
“Not many people from the LGBT community have top class jobs ... we generally don’t make it to higher education because we are bullied at school,” she said at her rented flat in Ho Chi Minh City.
“Even if I had a diploma, I would still feel inferior and not dare (to apply for an office job). So I do this to earn money ... (but also) whenever I am on stage as a woman I feel at ease,” said Nha Vy, who goes by this stage name as she sings, dances and deals out lotto tickets at her triweekly shows with the Sai Gon Tan Thoi, or Modern Saigon, troupe.
Up until the 1990s, such performances were a regular part of rural life in the south but their appeal began to fade until Sai Gon Tan Thoi burst onto the mainstream nightlife circuit in 2017.
Boosted by a feature film that year and the hugely successful documentary Madam Phung’s Last
Journey in 2014 that detailed the life of a monk turned head of a transgender troupe, Sai Gon Tan Thoi – and other modern rivals – started attracting more than a hundred people each night.
“We perform with our sweat, tears and blood – not just to sell fun but because I want people to understand this is a real profession,” said La Kim Quyen, a transgender woman, who has been performing with Sai Gon Tan Thoi and other lotto troupes since she was a teenager.
“I am happy with my life, with what I have achieved ... earning enough for myself and my mother,” added the 39-year-old, softly dabbing blusher on her cheeks ahead of the night’s show.
Vietnam is seen as relatively progressive on LGBT issues – the oneparty state lifted the ban on samesex marriage in 2015 – although it stopped short of full legal recognition for the unions and a promised transgender law to allow gender changes has not yet materialised.
In schools, misinformation about sexual orientation and gender identity is rife and some children are taught by both teachers and parents that homosexuality is a mental illness, according to a Human Rights Watch report published this year.
Vuong Kha Phong, LGBT rights programme officer at Vietnamese NGO iSEE, said shows that help promote visibility of sexual and gender minorities can boost tolerance but warned that while they were “a good first step”, they are not enough.
“While you may enjoy the show, you don’t really think about how they deserve access to healthcare or good employment opportunities,” he said, explaining that transgender people had little access to mental health support or hormone therapy if they want to transition.