When I was bloated, I suddenly wanted to get pregnant
2019
bbismydog
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肚子脹氣的時候我突然很想懷孕。
媽媽在我這個年紀就結了婚，準備生下她的第一個孩子；她經常回憶：下了班到幼稚園接小孩，一手抱著孩子一手提著在超市買的菜，使勁爬四層樓的樓梯回到家裏，趕緊開伙把幾個小肚子餵飽。吃得精光的碗盤、沒有灰塵的地板、衣食無缺的生活和買給我的芭比衣服，媽媽用她的雙手畫出了一個家——那是小時候最愛畫的，三角形和一扇窗、正方形和一扇門組合而成的房子；輕輕畫過的線條是媽媽纖細的手，那哄著：「長高高、長高高……」從頭到腳塗痱子粉的、那在鏡子前說：「你像誰呀？像媽媽對吧！」懷抱搖晃的、那使勁撐起沈重身體的、那上學途中握著方向盤的、那在馬路上牽著我的，牽著我連續緊握了三下。
躺臥在床上，手掌在脹氣的肚子上繞著圈，想像著有一天也會牽著我的孩子走在回家路上。
When my stomach is bloated, I suddenly really want to be pregnant.
At my age, my mom was already married and preparing to have her first child. She often reminisces: after work, she’d go pick me up from kindergarten, holding me in one arm and groceries in the other, climbing up four flights of stairs with all her strength, hurrying to cook dinner and feed a few hungry bellies.Empty plates wiped clean, spotless floors, a life without lack, and Barbie clothes she bought for me—my mom built a home with her bare hands.It was the kind of house I loved to draw as a kid: a triangle with a window, a square with a door. The gentle strokes of those drawings were like her delicate hands—the ones that patted baby powder all over me while softly chanting, “Grow taller, grow taller…” The hands that cradled and rocked me, that supported her tired body, that gripped the steering wheel on school mornings, that held mine tightly while crossing the street—three squeezes in a row.
Lying in bed, I circle my palm around my bloated belly and imagine: One day, maybe I’ll be holding my child’s hand, walking down the road, heading home.
男性的身體與懷孕的欲望，牽涉到了三個層面：酷兒、家族、情欲。
一、酷兒
酷兒（Queer）對我而言代表著對未來的一種不同的想像與欲望，它包容了那些不被傳統倫理與價值觀所接受的。在辭典中「Queer」的含義是古怪的、不同於平凡的、神秘的。身為個性害羞、內向、不會球類運動、總想躲進桌子底下的男生，從小就覺得自己跟別人不同而奇怪，這個奇怪像是額頭上長了第三隻眼睛，躲藏與壓抑成了日常，被直視的恐懼搭建起一座座牢籠，把自己關進了最深的房間。我想像找到或建立一種包容的語境，將對他者的惡意消滅，而能親密地袒露出那第三隻眼，或是穿上獸的衣裳、戴上王冠，成為自己國度的王，馴服內心的獸。然而，當一個男性的身體要說出他想要懷孕這件事情，由於他的身體並沒有經驗過月經來潮的痛苦與感受，甚至可以說是貪婪的。但這樣的政治不正確，將我想要講述的欲望變得更加強烈。
相識、熟稔、墜入愛河、在一起、結婚成家、懷孕，這副身體所經驗的結合的欲望是逐漸由情感、情欲推向永恆的渴望。而在進程中我們也體驗到關係中我們所欲望的身份也是不斷流動、演化的，由朋友、兄弟姐妹邁向情人、伴侶，在建立關係的過程中成為夫妻、彼此的父母與孩子。而這份對永恆的渴望即是我們對結婚、成家、生小孩的投射。但這不同於傳統的排列組合卻好似偏離了傳統價值的軌道，某部分也成為了酷兒的欲望。如《以你的名字呼喚我》中艾利歐對他的情人奧利佛之間的情感所下的描述：「……當他為她的妻子、為我、為他自己倒酒，我們倆終究會明白，他比任何時候的我都更像自己，因為多年前在床上，他成為我，我成為他之後，在每條人生的岔路完成任務許久之後，他是，也將永遠是我的兄弟、我的朋友、我的父親、我的兒子、我的丈夫、我的戀人、和我自己」。
二、家族
成長過程中我時常將自己拉出當下的現實中，以更遠的焦距對應我所擁有的感受與做過的行為，想像那些情緒與情感是否有其他解讀之可能與來源。像是肚子餓的時候比較容易生氣，所以生氣時常不完全是我們所想像的原因，可能是肚子餓的不滿足被投射到了不安全感之中，而某些恐懼從未發生。但我們假設它已經發生——在肚子餓的時候——而這個已經發生即變成了我們感受的真實。這種情境的形成提出了一個觀點，究竟我們所知所想、我們的感受真的源自於我自己嗎？或者它是一種動物性的、家族性的、社會性的情感流動，像是寒流來的時候我們都會感覺到冷，或是排行榜上的流行歌都讓我們感同身受。對比於這種集體性的呼應，我更經常將父母的關係當作辭源轉譯我所經歷的關係狀態，某些強烈情感與特殊時刻是否是我父母關係之輪迴，或是某些我樂意扮演的角色是否是想要完整家庭與生命中的某些缺憾，或者是我否其實想要逃離這現實中不可改變的失敗。楊德昌的電影《一一》之中有一幕也講述到類似情境，年輕的女兒和約會對象到旅館開房間，但男方後來落荒而逃，這個場景與女兒父親在日本與舊情人約會交錯剪接，他們都在馬路上散步、牽手，走過號誌閃爍的人行道、平交道——他們就像是平行時空之中的另一個自己，或是過去未完的緣還在未來重複著——而當父親與舊情人到了旅館，那女兒的爸爸最後也逃跑了，印象中女兒在只剩自己的房間門口站了好久。
三、情欲
在剛感受到懷孕欲望的時候，懷孕對我而言有一種安心感。那是一個我在腦海中浮現的畫面——走在仁愛路上，在太陽即將下山的傍晚，橘黃漸層的天空穿過樹葉，我牽著小孩，穿過一棵棵的路樹，在回家的路上——它讓我感受到對明天有所期待、肩負責任而甜蜜，因為擁有了一個更深刻的生命意義——我的孩子——這個意義讓我感到安心，讓我感到無論如何我有所依賴，我被需要、被愛也能付出愛。而這一切讓我感到快樂。兩個人的結合、受精、著床、胚胎、胎兒、分娩，那在肚子裡的像是生命的謎，那個「意義」像是夸父追的太陽也像薛西弗斯推的石頭，更像月的陰晴與圓缺；無數次的射精和月經，如同天空中的煙花或是海洋的潮汐，永無止境卻短暫的分秒，是掌紋上的一生也是葉脈終將落葉歸根；無窮的情欲同時間無止盡，它無情沖散了什麼、它結果留下了什麼，像一個動作所展現的肢體語言，身體感應之中所延續的時間和擴張的空間，深奧微妙，無常而永恆；那是夜空中一瞬的光，也是隕石般摩擦、撞擊而成的沈痛、深邃；那是《霍爾的移動城堡》霍爾與蘇菲之間的愛情，與片尾中響起的那首〈Promise Of The World〉，也是影集《女孩我最大》最後一集中主角Lena終得獨自懷抱著與一夜情對象生下的孩子，承擔起她的生命，哄他入眠。
This work centers on three interconnected themes: queerness, family, and desire.
I. Queerness
To me, queerness represents a different imagination and longing for the future. It embraces those desires and experiences unaccepted by traditional ethics and values. In the dictionary, "queer" means strange, different from the ordinary, and mysterious. As a shy, introverted boy who couldn't play sports and always wanted to hide under the table, I always felt different—strange, like having a third eye on my forehead. Hiding and suppressing myself became daily rituals. The fear of being seen built invisible cages that locked me in the deepest room of my own mind.
I imagine discovering or creating a more inclusive language, one that eradicates hostility toward the other and allows me to bare that third eye in intimacy—or to don the beast's fur, wear a crown, and become the king of my own realm, taming the wild creature within.
But when a male body speaks of wanting to become pregnant, it feels greedy, because it has never experienced the pain and sensation of menstruation. Yet this political incorrectness only intensifies the desire I wish to articulate.
From meeting, growing close, falling in love, to being together, getting married, and starting a family, the desire for union within this body gradually shifts from emotion and lust toward a longing for eternity. During this process, the identities we desire within relationships constantly shift and evolve—from friends to siblings, to lovers and partners, and eventually becoming spouses, each other’s parents and children. This yearning for eternity projects itself onto our dreams of marriage, home-making, and parenthood.
Although this may not follow traditional paths, such deviations can themselves be seen as queer desires. As described in Call Me by Your Name, Elio says of his lover Oliver: "...when he poured wine for his wife, for me, for himself, we would understand that he was more himself than I had ever been, because years ago, in bed, when he became me and I became him, after all the missions completed at every crossroads of life, he was—and would always be—my brother, my friend, my father, my son, my husband, my lover, and myself."
II. Family
While growing up, I often pulled myself out of the immediate reality and tried to examine my feelings and actions from a wider lens. I wondered if emotions could be interpreted differently—if they had alternative origins. For example, hunger can make us irritable. So when we’re angry, perhaps it’s not about the apparent cause, but about unfulfilled hunger being projected onto feelings of insecurity. Some fears never actually happen, but we assume they have—especially when we’re hungry—and this assumption becomes the truth of our feelings.
This kind of scenario raises the question: are our feelings truly our own? Or are they animalistic, familial, or social currents—like how we all feel cold when a cold front hits, or how pop songs can evoke universal emotions?
In contrast to such collective resonances, I often use my parents’ relationship as a kind of etymological source to reinterpret the state of my own relationships. I wonder if some intense emotions or specific moments are echoes of my parents' relationship, or whether the roles I enjoy playing are attempts to mend missing pieces of family or life—or perhaps I'm trying to escape the irreversible failures of reality.
In Edward Yang’s film Yi Yi, there’s a scene that mirrors this idea. A young daughter checks into a hotel with her date, but the boy flees in panic. Intercut with this is a scene of her father reuniting with an old flame in Japan. They walk hand in hand, across blinking pedestrian crossings and railroad tracks—as if they are parallel selves in different timelines, or as if unfinished pasts are repeating into the future. When the father reaches the hotel, he too runs away. I remember the daughter standing alone in front of her room for a long time.
III. Desire
When I first felt the desire for pregnancy, it came with a sense of peace. A picture appeared in my mind—walking along Ren'ai Road at dusk, the sun setting into a gradient of orange behind the trees, holding a child’s hand, heading home. That image gave me hope for tomorrow, a sense of responsibility sweetened by a deeper purpose—my child. That meaning brought me comfort, made me feel needed, loved, and capable of giving love. And all of it made me happy.
The union of two people—fertilization, implantation, embryo, fetus, childbirth—what grows inside the belly is like a mystery of life. That "meaning" is like the sun Kua Fu chases, or the boulder Sisyphus pushes, or the phases of the moon. Countless ejaculations and menstrual cycles are like fireworks in the sky or tides in the sea—endless and fleeting, the seconds that are both a whole life in a palm line and a leaf vein returning to the root.
Desire is infinite and time-bound. It disrupts and it leaves residue—like body language expressed in motion, like the temporality and expansion in physical perception. Deep, subtle, impermanent, and eternal. A moment of light in the night sky. The ache and depth formed by friction, like a meteor.
It is Howl and Sophie’s love in Howl’s Moving Castle, with the song “Promise of the World” at the end. It is also Lena in the final episode of Girls, holding the child born of a one-night stand—embracing life, rocking it to sleep.