Disclaimer: This piece includes Filipino words that carry cultural nuances. Descriptions of these terms are provided at the end for context.
𝘖𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩𝘩 𝘣𝘰𝘺𝘺𝘺𝘺𝘺
𝘐 𝘮𝘦𝘢𝘯, 𝘰𝘩 𝘨𝘪𝘳𝘭. 𝘐𝘵’𝘴 𝘰𝘬𝘶𝘳𝘳𝘳-
Before the 2010s, before the ra-ra-ra of a new dawn, and before OPM went into skyscraper heights, there were the icons of the 90s suspended in glittering limbo of high tech and low tech. The Nokia phones were peak glamour, flipping through time with their encrusted Y2k jewels and retro camera flashes. Emo bangs were the new Grrrl Riot; the goth style for the modern cynics. The computer shop in front of our bungalow became the concert circle for gamers and hunchbacked computer addicts, and my god, Lady Gaga vs Beyonce blared from the warbly speakers of our neighbors. If that era could once again be seen through a lens, it would be the color of sepia neon. ‘Burn the world ‘cause its demise was gonna be cracked in the Volkswagen’s bumper of modernity,’ and then there was me – a ¹mutya, a girl trapped in a boy’s body.
My shoulders were too sharp, and I knocked on them with my flicked wrist to hear their sound ²pero there was no answer. My hips, I could prick my fingers from their jutting bones. Where was my Venusian beauty? Where was my hourglass shape like the bold eyeliner-wearing models from the magazines that Mama bought in the shopping malls? I peered through the glossy pages secretly, hoping I could sneak in some of their moxie to my soul. While I was snorting their femme fatale realness, Mama was busy chopping scallops in the kitchen with the radio tuned up to some ³DZRH jazz.
Whenever she busied herself into cooking, I strutted myself into the living room. I tiptoed in my ballerina toes. I would prop the magazine into the coffee table and try with all my fabulous might to contort this boy body of mine into Vogue poses. Then for a sequined second, I would live a fantasy - my hair was a towering honey, my skin a ⁴morena shocker, and my eyes colored iridescence. Flick, my hip swayed to the right. Strike, my spine arched like a feline. Pose, my arms raised to the Gods. And duck face, my eyes squinted to kill.
“Antonio!” My mom beckoned, and I trepidly kicked the magazine under the dusty sofa. In those forgiving minutes of being able to play Barbie, the reprieves were cut short by the fear of being caught red-handed. So I was back to the stage again, back to the boy’s club.
I didn’t even know what I was. I just knew that the name Antonio felt like a Spandex suit - stiflingly hot and never my style. I was better off with Antonia. Inflected with an ‘a.’ It rhymed with ⁵𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘢, 𝘋𝘺𝘰𝘴𝘢, and 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘺𝘢. I learned from Papa’s compadre that even in Spanish, ‘a’ was the default feminine. That single difference exempted me from seeing myself in boyhood.
So, when my kuya Hector asked me about girls, I rolled my eyes at him. I combed through iconic lines that I memorized from pinoy blockbuster hits. Flinging one at him with flamboyancy, I retorted, ⁶“𝘈𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘱 𝘴𝘢'𝘺𝘰, 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘢 𝘬𝘢 𝘴𝘢 𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘵, 𝘴𝘢𝘭𝘢 𝘬𝘢 𝘴𝘢 𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘪𝘨. 𝘐𝘴𝘪𝘯𝘶𝘴𝘶𝘬𝘢 𝘬𝘢 𝘯𝘨 𝘋𝘪𝘺𝘰𝘴, 𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘶𝘸𝘢 𝘬𝘢 𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘵. 𝘏𝘮𝘱.” (𝙑𝙞𝙡𝙢𝙖 𝙎𝙖𝙣𝙩𝙤𝙨, 𝙏-𝘽𝙞𝙧𝙙 𝙖𝙩 𝘼𝙠𝙤)
Kuya Hector would look at me knowingly and laugh. I took those moments for granted and slithered off my faux masculinity into the plywood floors. With him, I wrapped myself with the kumot and imagined it as a fur coat. We would roleplay into that shoebox bedroom and blur all the flaked wallpaper into a Renaissance field. He, the knight, and I, the bubblegum princess in distress. He, the dragon, and I, always the queen.
Whenever Dad and him went into the butcher shop to get the freshest meat, Mom was stuck in the backyard picking the healthiest vegetables for that day’s lunch. I would take the chance to sneak into her room. The curtains were velvet, and the sun filtered through the windowpanes like a chrysalis from the divines. I tugged at the metallic knobs below her vanity table and allowed my fingers to saddle each tube of cosmetics. I would press my nose into the silver mirror and feel my other self. Sitting in her pink cushion gave me the invite to her sororal routine, it was a siren’s calling into another world. I crossed my legs like the lady that I envisioned myself to be and grabbed one round brush from the antique cup holder beside the mink pouch of clattering perfumes.
I let the brush tickle my rotund cheeks, the powder rose exploding into the air like pixie. I sucked in my cheeks and applied more color to their mounds. The glitter was blinding, and I chose to suffocate in its promise of the future. I bound myself in its sheen and morphed it as my prophecy – a star. I smeared an indexful of the sparkly concoction to my lids, the gold sticking into the mountain crease like they had already made known their territory. While I twisted the lipstick bullet into its sharpest height, the red reminded me of hong bau in chilly Christmas eve. Papa would howl the earthiest laugh among men and would tuck in blue bills within the flappy tongue of those envelopes.
The buttery feeling on my lips when I dabbed the lipstick was a rebirth, an anointment to all the discombulence of my wrong body. Misshapen in Adam’s mold when I should have been someone else: a woman-God.
I danced my way to her closet and tucked away the ⁷𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘨 frocks to the side, and then there were the real fashion treasures to glamorize: the silk dress, the ribboned gowns, and the velvet garments. I slid myself easily into a pink sundress. The extra length that my teeny frame couldn’t accommodate draped onto the floor like a mermaid tale. I returned to my seat and viola, the girl I was always meant to be.
I always feared what would happen if Mama didn’t obsess over the precarious details of the vegetables she picked (⁸Dyusko, these veggies are fresh, Mom would say. She would set down the basket and run a mile in her Hawaiian-themed flip-flops to get something in her room. Probably her wallet to buy some bagoong. Or maybe just gonna spritz herself with perfume before Papa would arrive so she would smell good).
I imagined all the could be’s and would be’s. She would scream at my face. What a beauty, what an art. What would Mama say if she caught me in this bad drag? Red lipstick overdrawn, glitter on my lids like someone drew me their interpretation of Saturn rings, and the pink gown wrapped belongingly to my girl metamorphosis.
I imagined it would go like this: Mama would howl prayers and cry onto the floor, begging for something to be unearthed. My cure. She would slap me in the face and blatantly say ‘⁹bakla.’ Papa and kuya Hector would hear the shrapnel slowly ripping this house apart, and barge into the room with the meat still dripping blood on the slight tear of the plastic. Mama would be comforted by the macho figure of Papa as her sobs continued to wreck the family unit. Kuya Hector would be too stoned from the Marlboro cigarettes he smoked the early morning, and my body would be glacial in shame. As this fantasy-nightmare rolled inside my head like film scenes, I practiced the lines from ¹⁰𝘽𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙨 𝙇𝙪𝙡𝙪𝙝𝙤𝙙 𝘼𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙜𝙖 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙖 (1984). In the mirror, I mouthed with my red lips:
Years later, I would think back on those exact days and recollect the fantasy-nightmare with HD sharpness. I would laugh with my tattooed boyfriend while my ¹²Kuya Hector jabbed childish insults over the dinner table, ‘¹³Delulu ka talaga!’
Mom would wrap her arms around me and kiss my cheeks. She would say to all of us, “Your father is probably smiling now while watching over us.”
“¹⁴Tita naman! You’re scaring us!” My boyfriend would jokingly butt in, and everyone’s mirth is tinting the 2020’s polluted sky with brazen colors.
¹mutya: In Filipino, it means a precious gem or beautiful maiden. Here, it captures a girl’s spirit within a boy’s body, symbolizing hidden beauty and inner truth.
²pero: Filipino for "but," showing contrast or hesitation.
³DZRH: A famous Filipino AM radio station known for its talk shows, music, and news. It's often associated with a nostalgic, retro vibe.
⁴morena: In Filipino, this term means a person with tan or brown skin, often seen as beautiful and exotic.
⁵𝘎𝘭𝘢𝘮𝘰𝘳𝘰𝘴𝘢, 𝘋𝘺𝘰𝘴𝘢, and 𝘎𝘳𝘢𝘴𝘺𝘢: Filipino words meaning glamorous, goddess-like, and graceful, respectively, and used to express admiration.
⁶“𝘈𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘪𝘳𝘢𝘱...𝘪𝘯𝘪𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘶𝘸𝘢 𝘬𝘢 𝘯𝘨 𝘭𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘪𝘵.”: An iconic line from Filipino actress Vilma Santos in T-Bird at Ako, meaning "You’re hard to please; heaven even spit you out." It reflects sass and frustration.
⁷𝘭𝘰𝘴𝘺𝘢𝘯𝘨: Filipino slang for someone who looks tired or rundown, often due to aging or hard work.
⁸Dyusko: A Filipino exclamation for “My God!” expressing surprise or exasperation.
⁹bakla: Filipino for a queer person, often male-presenting with feminine traits, used here with complex familial and cultural connotations.
¹⁰𝘽𝙪𝙠𝙖𝙨 𝙇𝙪𝙡𝙪𝙝𝙤𝙙 𝘼𝙣𝙜 𝙈𝙜𝙖 𝙏𝙖𝙡𝙖: A 1984 Filipino film, with a famous line meaning, "Tomorrow, the stars will kneel." The phrase reflects determination and defiance.
¹¹“𝘈𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘨𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘢…𝘣𝘶𝘬𝘢𝘴, 𝘭𝘶𝘭𝘶𝘩𝘰𝘥 𝘢𝘯𝘨 𝘮𝘨𝘢 𝘵𝘢𝘭𝘢!”: From Bukas Luluhod Ang Mga Tala, meaning “The stars are high and hard to reach, but tomorrow they’ll kneel.” It symbolizes ambition and overcoming challenges.
¹²Kuya: It means older brother in Filipino, showing respect and familial bond.
¹³Delulu: Filipino slang from “delusional,” often used playfully among friends and family.
¹⁴Tita naman!: Tita is “aunt” in Filipino; here, it’s used affectionately to tease.
