‘Daughters of the Earth’
I spent a part of my childhood in a convent in one of the coldest regions of the Philippines. I attended the Mass at dawn, prayed before lunch, and attended vespers in the afternoon. During those times when I wasn’t praying in the chapel, I was picking wild sunflowers, reaching for oranges that grew only in that area, and munching on pieces of passion fruit always accessible to a 2-year-old.
When I turned three, my mom and I moved to yet another convent. This time, I had lots of space to romp around in, for it had a farm. There were rows and rows of chickens that I was allowed to feed and collect eggs from. There were pigs whose screams meant that they were sufficiently big and fat for market. There were herds of sheep and goat, huge fish pens, a horse and many dogs. Afternoon siesta meant sneaking away from my sleeping mom to read a book under fruit trees, returning only after hearing her summoning shouts.
I was made to recite verses from the Bible because I easily memorized a handful of verses. In my elders’ exaggerated accounts, I memorized the whole Bible as a kid and my favorite was John 3:16 “For God so loved the world that He gave His only Son, that whoever believes in Him should not perish but have eternal life.” I can only remember the latter.
Later I was educated by Catholic nuns, making prayers and a Christian education a necessary part of my life. In short, I was taught to fear the Lord and how breaking His rules meant disrespect. My upbringing would imply that I was raised in an environment that fostered nothing too radical—I was too safe and polite.
There was no reason for me to become a lesbian, as far as some members of my family were concerned. There were no indicators, no signs, as I was always dressed in pink and frilly dresses—up until the last year of grade school. It was during this time that I met a girl from high school and became attracted to her. We became “magka-on,” (a term used for lesbian relationships), but did not hold hands, go out on dates, or kiss. We just exchanged mushy letters and stolen glances, and it was the first time I fell in love.
I was often questioned by my teachers then: “Why her? Don’t you know that boys will have the knowledge that you were with a girl and will never court you, ever?”
I did not care.
When I transferred to a public school, I had a few crushes on girls older than me. I used to kiss my girl classmates and easily got away with it because I was at the top of my class. None of them knew that I was a lesbian because I grew my hair long and wore dresses and short skirts on wash day. I wasn’t brusko (brusque); in fact I was a tad too maarte (affected). I was scared of bugs and worms, I was always dressing up. I was a typical young adult.
When I entered the University of the Philippines, it came as a shock to me that people are openly gay. Most of my friends were “out,” meaning that they and their girlfriends held hands in public, lived together, and did not really care what the world thought of them. They were far from the stereotypes that I knew. They were artists, writers, scholars, poets, actors—they were from all walks of life, converging in a home that would accept them, nurture and love them.
It was at the university that I first met someone who would later be my girlfriend for three years. It was in a rally protesting the cuts in the education budget that I was introduced to her. She was petite and pretty—my type of girl. I sent her text messages, and within months after our meeting, we decided to give the relationship a chance. After a few months of being together, we moved into a room with two beds (the landlady, of course, assumed that we were friends or classmates). We shared one bed and used the other as storage space for some of our stuff that could not fit inside the cabinet.
Although people are accustomed to lesbian and gay relationships, some are not really comfortable around gay and lesbian couples. One day, the landlady confronted us and demanded that we reveal our “secret.” She even said that she had known of our relationship all along, and requested that we pack our things and leave her house. She was a professor in a state university, but that did not exclude her from those who discriminate against relationships they deem beyond “normal.”
My girlfriend and I had to consider not only other people but also our respective families. It was all right with my mom, but we had difficulty convincing her devout family that our relationship was really not a bad thing, that in fact it was helping us in many ways we could not have imagined. We became partners in everything—in thesis work, in protest rallies, etc. Our partnership made us grow into resilient individuals capable of sharing everything we hold dear with each other.
We loved each other in an unconditional way, in a way that nurtured us and banished all forms of insecurity. We were loved by people who have open minds and open hearts. Our families finally stopped cringing at the sight of us together.
When I recall those things I have read in the Bible, I never remember God saying anything against homosexual relationships. Instead, He imparted how people should love. In Corinthians 13:4, God said: “Love is always patient and kind; it is never jealous, boastful or conceited; it is never rude or selfish; it does not take offense, and is not resentful. Love takes no pleasure in other people’s sins but delights in the truth; it is always ready to excuse, to trust, to hope, and to endure whatever comes. Love does not come to an end.”
I want people to know that it is important to follow one’s heart, one’s bliss. People may resent you and what you are; people close to you will question you and try to “get you on the right track.” But people who love you will always be there for you, in the most trying times of your life. It takes a lot of courage and hardships to find one’s identity, and when one finally does, there will be infinite bliss. Women are strong, beautiful and passionate. How can I not love them?
Kristel Anne Perlas is studying comparative literature at the University of the Philippines in Diliman.
