Master of deceit

It begins in the morning even before he sees another person. Every day, he gets up and looks at his wardrobe the way no one else does. There’s a section of clothes he’s more comfortable wearing, and a category of clothes that won’t be so “obvious.” He picks the latter. After all, it’s a work day.

He’s practiced a tone of voice that’s more acceptable. It’s the one he’s honed in private as soon as he noticed that his slight inflection as a child raised eyebrows and caused relatives to push him to play more with other boys. He’s roughened his movements and tightened the grip of his handshake. Everyday he struts a walk that says, “Don’t mess with me,” but deep inside it says, I have secrets. Please leave me alone.

He has no choice when his father says, “Wala tayong lahing bakla (Being gay is not in our blood).” He has no options when his mother says, “You have to carry on the family name.” His brothers, manly since birth and rough at the knuckles they’ve used to make him tough, have said as they pinned him down, “Lumaban ka, huwag kang babakla-bakla! (Fight back! Don’t be such a faggot!)” 

Is it any wonder then why our boy tucks in his nature as a matter of survival? Is it a surprise when he’s learned to cover up his true self with loud words, homophobic slurs, and by directing attention towards the more visible gay men? In his mind, when people overlook what he is hiding, that means he can overlook himself. He can convince himself of the same insults he hurls at others: They are disgusting. They are unnatural. They don’t respect themselves. Why can’t they just behave?

Love is far away

But at night he trawls the hookup sites, labeling himself “discreet.” He goes to the back of a movie theater or a secluded restroom with his head down. He looks for a fellow closeted man, and engages in a casual or paid encounter so he knows this person will not run after him, or fall in love, or ask him to tell his parents he’s found the one.

Because love is far away, but not because he doesn’t want it. He pushes it away because he has no answers for love and what it requires one to do and be. He has no response to “What now?” and can’t ask himself “What’s the plan?” He’s been told too often that there is no future for someone like him. Look at that gay man on TV. He’s only allowed to be funny. But all the love stories end badly. Gay characters either die or end up alone.

To this boy who’s known the truth since childhood and has been told no other way, the closest thing to love is a girl who loves him but who will never have his heart. So often this kind of boy relents. He builds the family everyone said would make him happy. He heeds the “well-meaning” advice to look for a good girl, marry, and have children. He fills his home with family photos. This is a picture perfect family, he says to himself. These should make him “happy.”  Everyone else’s happiness should at least make up for his own.

If he ever dared to speak about himself, he’d have been told to change for his own good. That nothing could come out of being bakla. He’d be told that his life would be filled with fear – of being exposed, or humiliated, or physically hurt. That he’d have to pay someone to be loved.

Don’t act on it

“You can be gay but you don’t have to act on it,” they’ll say, believing they’re being kind. Meaning, you can be your unsightly self but not around me. Save yourself by being normal. Hide that nature. Kill that desire. It’s for your own good.

He’s fooled everyone but himself, building a world surrounded by walls. He comes off as mysterious, secretive, and restrained.

You dare ask, why can’t he just come out and be proud? Why does he have to hide? You watch an evening telenovela where a family guy is exposed as a man-loving-man. Of course you side with the Lallies of the world and say with so much righteous pride, “How dare he hide his true self and fool a woman? Why can’t he just be happy having a good wife?”

With all the sincere advice he’s heard that a wife and a family should make him happy, don’t you think he’s tried to be happy? Don’t you think he once looked at his bride and prayed she could change what God did not? Our boy loved the applause at his wedding. It was the first time he did something “right.” Yet everyday after that his life has felt wrong.

He spends all day hiding and many nights prowling because nobody can know, because everybody said it’s wrong, it’s dirty, it’s disgusting, and would cause him to lose his family, his good name, and his job.

Your pedestal

Can you really blame him for hiding? Or are you just speaking from where you are, raised in a world where a toddler boy and girl kissing are cute, where you are able to dream of your wedding, where your future happy life is in magazines and movies? You simulate sex while grinding on the dance floor, yet cringe at the sight of two boys holding hands.

You were encouraged (and even pushed) to love someone. People like us are told that who we love will cause everyone harm.

I’d like to see you be brave about something so true and so fundamental to you, but were told could only be wrong and would break everyone’s hearts and ruin your life. I’d like you to imagine a day in the life of someone whose heart contradicts his society, his religion, and his family. Tell me then if it would really be so easy to say, “Bakla ako. (I’m gay).”

I bet you can’t even say the words. Nor can you imagine his life, or even accept that he also has a right to love. I bet you’ve said of your own child, “Sana huwag bakla.” (I hope he doesn’t turn out gay) – believing that a good parent prays for a “normal” child.

I bet that if a gay man is not a comedian, or an entertainer, a designer or a stylist, or someone who suits some purpose to you, you’d prefer if he just “behaves,” acts “normally,” and doesn’t “act on his feelings.”

In short, you’d prefer they hide, too. But now you don’t have to wonder why they do. They hide because of people like you.  – Rappler.com

Shakira Andrea Sison is a Palanca Award-winning essayist. She currently works in finance and spends her non-working hours being deceitful in subway trains. She is a veterinarian by education and was managing a retail corporation in Manila before relocating to New York in 2002. Follow her on Twitter: @shakirasison and on Facebook.com/sisonshakira. 

READ:

Why do we hate effeminate men 
Things gay people are still told 
Coming out of the closet sample letter