Oi, What a weekend it was. All as usual. Walked the Lil Bastard as soon as I woke up. Had breakfast. Gave the Lil Bastard a bath. Took my own shower. Went to the grocery with mom. Had lunch. Yoga for Life day, but this time, without the yoga. Yep, Yoga for Life without the yoga. Today was going to be different. We would be walking instead of yogaing. It was the 2010 LGBT Pride March.
The LGBT Pride March. LGBT stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender. I belong to the gay part, of course. I’m not lesbian, because I’m not female. I’m not bisexual because I’m not sexually attracted to females. And I’m not a transgender because I’m still all male body parts, no more, no less.
Gay. I’ve never been ashamed of being gay. Not even if most of the paminta population was up in arms declaring they were “bi” when they actually were really gay. Not even if and when the stereotypical gay was the parlorista, keribels. I’m gay, and proud of it. Bakla ako, may reklamo?
I was always out to prove that there are so many forms of being gay, and I was the discreet kind. I never dressed up in women’s clothes... okay fine, I did once when I was fielded to a beauty pageant by my college organization... but on a daily basis, I am still all man. And even if I was the “penetrated and perpetrated”, as my officemate would call it, I have never had the desire to sport a vagina or labia.
Unashamed, but I’ve never needed to shout out to the world that I am gay. As such, this year, I joined my first ever Pride March, as part of the Yoga for Life contingent.
Now Yoga for Life is in no way particularly targeted towards gays. But the reality is that most straight men would either underestimate the effort needed to do yoga, or cower at the possibility of them walking out of the class in a tantrum of I-can’t-do-this. Oi, men and their manhood. That being said, majority of those attending Yoga for Life are men... let me qualify that... men who have sex with men or MSM. A frustrating fact that the straight women who join us have to face. Hehehe.
That being said, whether Yoga for Life belongs in the Pride March is a resounding yes, if not just for the fact that both Yoga for Life and the gay community advocate acceptance and tolerance. Not to mention, this year, the Pride March was to be jointly celebrated with World AIDS Day.
So Saturday afternoon, instead of heading to Makati, I headed to Tomas Morato. This is the first time I remember that the Pride March was not being held in Manila, Malate being the unspoken home of the gays. And being a Quezon City boy, I was glad and proud that QC finally hosted the event. And I actually hope it steals it away from Manila altogether.
I was anxious, because I am never comfortable in crowds, not to mention the extra pretense of a gay crowd. Remember, we are the ones who brought scrutiny to the whole new level of okray. So, I was dressed in my usual comfortable clothes, purposely veering away from any attention-grabbing garb to keep myself under the radar. All I had was a backpack of essentials, plus our Yoga for Life banner in hand, as the cab dropped me along Morato.
I needed to wait a few minutes before the rest of the Yoga for Lifers got there, a few minutes of awkward paranoia, shielding myself both from the sun and from being noticed by others. Upon being prompted, I walked to the meeting place, ready to see my comfort zone.
Greetings and hugs aside, we stowed into a coffee place craving for some protection from the afternoon heat while waiting for the parade to start. Some more Yoga for Lifers trickled in one after the other. Soon we were about ten, thereabouts.
The sounds of percussion drew us out of the café, and we were ready to march loud and proud. Yogi Bear and Babe were there of course leading the pack, dressed in black outfits, a cross between sleek and sultry. The Yoga for Life banner. Some fuchsia balloons. And then the rest of us. Most of us were actually Pride virgins, which may have explained the mix of excitement and anxiety... but really, everyone was game, and we were just all out to have fun and proud to represent Yoga for Life. Then the parade began.
We walked. I spotted Carlos Celdran walking by us, and our Yogi Babe approached him to join us for a picture. He was game! The energy was high. We were following a float of trannies, and their music and antics were keeping the energy high. It was a great place in the parade to be.
We walked. Now I knew that media would cover the event and all. So was I scared of getting exposed as part of the Pride contingent? Not really. Being gay is the least of my issues. What if my mom sees my face on TV? Well, she knows I’m gay. Other people? So what?! My HIV status? Well it’s not like it’s tattooed on my forehead, is it?! I was just hoping I don’t get interviewed... else I might just faint. Hehe.
We walked. Shortly we encountered some guests, protesters to be exact. Waving bibles, disapproving condoms, and declaring “God did not make you gay”, it was laughable, especially since there were just three or four of them there. Old issues that for me were non-issues. Geesh, nothing better?
We walked. A lot of people came out to watch, from the residences and the buildings we passed. Our Yogi Babe was outrageous, approaching people encouraging them to do yoga poses for photo ops. From street kids and fab femmes, to policemen and titillating trannies, to hiphop dancers and construction workers, she was just out to get them! Oi, straight female wins over the gay contingent on this one. Hahaha!
We walked. It was hot. Scorching hot. Not gay friendly. Make-up melts, you know. And oiliness, they say, is next to ugliness. And sweatiness is next to confiscation of the gay license. Argh. But seeing everyone still all out in spite of that was great. It was good too that the streets along which the route ran were pretty wide, compared to Malate where I imagine the density of people would’ve added to the afternoon heat. QC rules!
We walked. Tomas Morato. Eugenio Lopez Drive. Panay Avenue. Timog Avenue. One last turn back to Tomas Morato, and we saw the home stretch. The protesters were back, the same ones we passed going the other way. Namaste. Peace, peace, peace. Some other city should host their march.
We walked. Oi, just a few more blocks... Finally, we made it back to the starting point, a good hour or so of walking under our belts. Geez, an hour?! All for pride. All for pride.
We got a breather before the program started as the darkness of the night set in. A few more Yoga for Lifers joined us, better late than never. As the show started, I think my energy went off with the setting sun. I was pooped! I couldn’t wait to rest. But we wanted to wait until they acknowledged the groups who participated in the event. As fate would have it, they made the announcements in alphabetical order. Yoga for Life? Oi, we were third to the last out of sixty groups. Oh well, we’ll take it.
After some part of the program, including speeches by Quezon City Mayor Herbert Bautista, Vice Mayor Joy Belmonte, both putting Quezon City behind the advocacy of HIV & AIDS awareness and LGBT rights, some musical numbers, a cameo by Journey frontman Arnel Pineda, the descent of seemingly godmother to the gays Risa Hontiveros, and a short segment allowing our Yogi Bear and Babe to talk about Yoga for Life, I split.
I had actually promised the hubby we’d meet, considering the proximity of the venue. But I had tipped him off after the walk about how tired I was already, and had already called our date off. But I thought I’d just push myself a little bit more, and ended up in a cab to his place. I was tired, sweaty, sticky and smelly, but still got the hugs, the kisses, dinner, a movie, and arms to fall asleep in. Mmm. Not a bad way to end the Pride weekend... Happy and Gay!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Pride
Sunday, December 06, 2009
Nasty Nazi
It’s been days since getting home from Subic after the Training of Implementers on the Power of You Campaign for HIV/STI Prevention. But still I’m reeling.
Although the whole thing was better than what E and I expected and overall, a very successful event and a positive experience for both E and I, it was far from perfect. There still are some things that I need to get off my chest.
During the first day of the seminar, December 1st, we were able to witness as one school official claimed quotes from the Holy Bible saying how Adam and Eve were punished by God because they engaged in premarital sex and how HIV came about because Cain was a bad son who copulated with different animals. Hmm.
I know I’m no Bible fanatic, but think about it. Was it not something about an apple that led Adam and Eve into temptation? And who exactly was supposed to wed Adam to Eve if they were the only two people around? And Cain sexing it up with animals... hmm, that’s a new one. Thankfully, neither E nor I needed to speak up, for it was the other school officials who refuted her claims, saying nowhere in the Bible is any of that said.
But the little old lady wasn’t done. She proudly expressed her disgust at the immorality of society today, leading her to prohibit holding of hands in her school, be it between opposite or same sexes, as well as campaign against homosexuality among students and faculty. Hmm. E seemed to think it’s a classic case of an old dog and new tricks. Okay, from this point on we shall call her Nazi lady.
Luckily, we hardly heard a peep from Nazi lady after her outburst that first day. She didn’t even interrogate us about our immorality or stone us, even after E and I told our life stories. I was surprised actually. She was reduced to giving us mean looks and sneers that might be her way of telling us, “You got what you deserved”. Deadma na lang. So was this the end of the Nazi lady chapter? Hell, hell, hell no.
We were eating a late breakfast on the third day when we saw Nazi lady come out of the conference hall. Honestly, I kept my head down, not wanting to show any interest in her, nor daring to make eye contact with such an omnipotent being. We just were not worthy.
Of course, if anything can go against the plan, it will. E was whimpering beside me, as he noticed her approaching us from across the room. I thought he was kidding, but when I looked up, there she was, asking if she could join us. Like we had a choice, right? Hail, your highness. So, fine. We let her.
If I remember right, she started off telling us that she had allegedly been speaking with the student leaders from her school, and their reactions were that they were pleased to realize that we were okay in spite of the virus. Too pleased, in fact, that she was concerned that it would create complacency around the risk of contracting HIV. As in, “Why should we (her students) be so concerned about HIV if they (E and I) are doing alright with it?” Hmm.
We tried hard to be nice. First of all, I seriously doubt the veracity of her allegations. I really think she once again misinterpreted what her students were expressing to her. It pissed us off that she obviously wasn’t paying attention to the synthesis of that first day, which explained the objective of our telling our stories.
My story was an extreme polar opposite to E’s plight with drugs, dropping out of school, vices and prostitution. I was the typical kid who studied in a Catholic primary school, an enviable science high school and a prestigious university. The objective was to show that whatever background one comes from one can still be put at risk of HIV. Just like it doesn’t know gender, race, religion, sexual preference, and social status, HIV has no respect for educational attainment. A risk is a risk.
We explained that to her... again... and really, my thoughts were that she really underestimated the intelligence of her students. These are student leaders, mind you. They aren't stupid. And kids these days deal with more things that we or she did in our time.
Then she wanted to know whether we still were living the same lifestyle even after HIV. For my case, I knew what she was referring to. Homosexuality. But E was smart to ask what she meant by “lifestyle”. She elaborated. Homosexuality, drugs and prostitution. The drugs and prostitution part, I never dealt with, and I know E has passed that phase. But the homosexuality part, I chose to speak for myself. Yes, of course, I still practice homosexuality.
She countered, “Then what’s the purpose of this seminar if you still go on with that lifestyle?” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. I think I had DUH! written on my forehead. I explained that I am a homosexual, and having HIV doesn’t mean that I should go straight or stop having sex. E added how HIV is not a homosexual thing, and even straight sero-discordant couples we know can still have sex with the proper precautions.
Was she done? Hell no. She clearly was not digesting what we were saying. As she started to leave, she gave us the consolation of hearing that she did think that it was admirable how positive we still were despite our conditions, but she made clear that she hoped we had repented, and that “she did not consider us heroes”. Wow. And E and I were supposed to be the judgmental and self-righteous ones respectively?
Was I offended? Hell, no. We were not there to be patronized or made heroes. Ours was, after all, according to the programme, a “testimonial”. And that’s just what we did. What bothers us is how this Nazi lady is going to teach students about HIV. And hearing her repeat later on at the assembly that she would still campaign against homosexuality in her campus told us exactly how she was going to. Nazi style.
With all that had been said, E and I kept as cool as could be. We did tell the organizers about what happened, and they decided against letting us speak for ourselves to make sure things didn’t get personal. Instead, they took it upon themselves to reiterate that it was an HIV prevention seminar, and not an issue about homosexuality. I hope Nazi ears were listening, and Nazi minds understanding.
HIV is a disease that can affect everyone. Campaigning against homosexuality won’t help. Even if all her students were straight, HIV would still be a threat. Campaigning against pre-marital sex won’t help. Even if all her students were already married to one another, HIV would still be a threat. Banning holding hands won’t help either. Even if you cut off everyone’s hands on campus, HIV would still be a threat.
This type of martial rule does nothing but encourage rebellion. Risks do not only exist within the four walls of a school and do not end with the ringing of the school bell at the end of the day. They abound everywhere and every minute. Nazi lady is really not that omnipotent to be lurking behind each student their whole life, is she?
The title of the course is The Power of You. It is not the power of Nazi lady. It is not the power of B.I.T.C.H. and E. It is the power each one has over his or her life. It is the power in every one of us. And that explains the objective precisely. We are not here to make absolute rules to do this and not do that. We are here to empower the youth of today with the knowledge and skills to enable them to make the right decisions for themselves – about the risks of HIV and life in general – and live by whatever decisions they make. And that is The Power of You.
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Pyramid Scheme?
I think we all know the common but mistaken notion that HIV is a gay-only disease. Lately, even the Department of Health came out with statistics showing that HIV infections among MSMs, or men who have sex with men, have been increasing in the Philippines. Could it be the fact that Filipinas are more conservative that makes heterosexual transmissions less likely? Or could it just be that more homosexuals are getting tested than heterosexuals? Or it is just one complicated pyramid scheme?
Conservatism and unknown HIV statuses will be difficult to quantify. But since the philosopher and the scientist in me have been acting up again, I’m so tempted to try to figure out some idea as to why HIV is linked to homosexuals. So banking on pure logic, let me try to analyze.
For this analysis, let me zero in on sexual transmission. And for both heterosexual and homosexual acts, let me focus on insertive sex, meaning vaginal and anal sex, since these are considered higher risk acts as compared to oral sex and other forms. Let me also make the assumption that the people involved are not consciously protecting themselves from HIV. Also, let’s factor in the statistics that say that the possibility of an insertive partner passing the virus to a receptive one is ten times more likely as compared to the other way around.
Imagine starting out with one HIV-positive male at the top of a heterosexual pyramid. He has two choices, vaginal and anal sex. It may be safe to assume that vaginal sex is the more common practice, especially in a relatively conservative society such as that of the Philippines. And because of the potential of pregnancy, heterosexual encounters, unless done within the context of a relationship at least, will more likely be protected. As such, that lowers the chance of the top level male passing it on to the second level female, unless in cases of the less common unprotected anal sex or pregnancy-prone unprotected vaginal sex.
On the other hand, starting out with one HIV-positive male at the top of a homosexual pyramid, assumed in this case to be insertive as well, leaves him with no choice but anal sex. And with no risk of pregnancy, and the assumption of not consciously protecting themselves from HIV, he does not have any other reason to use protection. Let’s just say, if he really couldn’t stand the idea of a fudgy banana then he wouldn’t be go anywhere near that place.
So at this point, all factors considered, including the fact that anal sex is more risky because of the absence of natural lubrication in the anus versus that of the vagina, making the anus more prone to lacerations due to friction which then become possible sites for exchange of bodily fluids, it seems that there is a higher chance in the homosexual pyramid for the HIV to be passed to the second level as compared to that of the heterosexual pyramid.
From the second level of the heterosexual side, the infected female will always be a receptive partner, primarily because she has nothing to insert. Second level males on the homosexual pyramid, on the other hand, can be purely receptive, or able to swing between being a receptive and an insertive partner, more commonly termed as versatile. Thus, at minimum, the infected second level male on the homosexual side will be as efficient in transmitting the virus as an infected second level female on the heterosexual side. But, should the infected second level male on the homosexual side suddenly turn insertive, the chances then multiply ten times.
Am I making sense? Are you still with me? Or have you nosebled to death?
Anyways, if we go further down the pyramids, it should make sense that further transmission of HIV in the homosexual one will indeed be more likely. Could this analysis be a logical explanation to the higher risk of transmission of HIV among homosexuals? I don’t really know.
Now I’m not saying everyone should turn heterosexual to make it less likely to contract HIV. Nor am I saying that everyone should confine themselves to oral sex so they will be completely excluded from either of my pyramids. Because any which way you look at it, no matter how small of a risk a sex act is, it is still a risk. Even if you say that there’s only a one-in-a-million chance, I say you just might be that unlucky one. Comprende?
So, now tell me, are you willing to take that risk?
- republished from Positivism's Ka-Blog!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
The Stigma Enigma
I’ve said it enough times. I’ve felt it enough times. I’ve worried about it enough times. I think it’s safe to say that everyone does acknowledge that there is stigma that surrounds HIV in the Philippines.
But is there indeed an enigma behind this stigma?
Hell, just going to get tested, or even thinking of getting tested, you might not have realized you’ve experienced the stigma as well. What will they think of me?, Will they judge me?, Will they think I’m gay?, Will they think I’m promiscuous? and so on. It’s sad that you have to worry about things like that, rather than just acknowledge the importance of knowing one’s HIV status.
But I’ve come to realize that the stigma experienced by those living with HIV is not the same for each and everyone. Some have it bad, some have it worse. These variances along the stigma scale can stem from the smallest things, and certainly HIV being regarded as a gay disease is just one of those things.
Certainly, babies and children who most probably contracted it through modes other than sex have no need to be defensive. And women have absolutely no chance of being mistaken as a gay man, not unless they have masculine features or something. And either way, I don’t think it will be as detrimental to their reputation.
For the not-so-straight guys, it’s less of an issue, because granted, they... I, included... supposedly fit the bill, right? But then of course, there’s the whole spectrum of gayness that we need to deal with. From the bisexual to the gay, from the flamboyant to the discreet, and so on. It’s one thing to disclose that one is HIV-positive, and a whole other issue to disclose one’s sexual orientation.
Straight guys have it worst I believe, because they actually need to battle the stigma of HIV being a gay disease.
So far, here in the Philippines, faces and most stories that have embodied the HIV-positive have been women and homosexuals. And certainly, it must be this representation that fuels the stigma of HIV being an anything-but-straight-male virus. But seemingly, it must not help either that no HIV-positive straight guys are coming forward to represent themselves as faces of HIV.
So it seems like it’s a draw. An enigma. A classic example of a chicken-and-egg situation.
So which should come first? Can we just sit and wait for the stigma to fade? Or can this serve as a challenge for some Filipino man to be a real man and say “Hey, I’m straight, and I’m HIV-positive”?
- republished from Ka-Blog by Positivism
Wednesday, December 31, 2008
Things I've Learned
Christmas this year has been so different. It’s been an extended holiday season, but I’ve become thankful that I didn’t get my wish to sleep through the holidays. I’ve had a healthy balance between staying rested and keeping busy, and been swamped with almost every emotion there is, more happy moments than sad, I’m pleased to say.
The usual family stuff has been there, but with the several days that have been dedicated to helping Baby Nathan’s family out, they’ve become my second family as well. It’s been almost a week since Christmas passed, and still the season of giving remains. And with everything that has been happening, I can say that I have been learning a lot.
Here are just some of them...
I’ve sort of been able to generalize that people who drive Mazda 3s are seemingly extremely generous persons. You know who you are. I’m thankful, but hoping generosity is not limited to them.
I’ve seen how much fun unexpected plans can be, when a quick shopping trip spins off into a bakal-boys-hour slash dirty-secrets-Q&A-portion slash movie-date. I’m still trying to analyze if doors really do slam silently when done by the hearing-impaired.
I’ve shared the panic of being put on the spot and wanting to run away from a well-meaning bible-study-preacher person, but not having any polite way of doing so. I’m relieved to know I’m not the only one who’s not into it.
I’ve realized how the mascot effigies at fastfood chains can be such good points of reference when eyeballing with someone. I’m just thinking of how to phrase things better than I’m the guy staring at Ronald McDonald’s ass.
I’ve learned that ladies should be careful who they’re caught grocery-shopping with. Anyone of the opposite sex, even if it’s a discreet gay friend, will always be thought to be your boyfriend. I’m wondering how much worse the rumors would’ve been if we were caught with baby diapers in the shopping cart. This might be the first and the last time you'll hear this from me, but Our kids would've been beautiful!
And vice versa, discreet gay guys should be careful who they’re caught grocery shopping with, too. Anyone of the opposite sex, even if it’s just a friend, might be thought to be your – Gasp! – girlfriend. Again, I’m glad no one I knew caught us with diapers in our shopping cart. No offense, but Eeeeew! I have a reputation to protect, ya know!
Okay, okay, now seriously...
Being able to help Baby Nathan out these past holidays has been anything short of an eye-opener. I’ve been thanked myself a lot for helping them out, but I maintain that I am only a medium, and the real angels are the people who come from out of nowhere to lend a helping hand. I mean I might have the affinity to this kid just because we are both HIV positive and it is but natural for us in the poz community to, as they say, love your own. But these people who’ve been stepping up to the plate and giving whole-heartedly have been people from heaven knows where, who’ve chosen to look past the boundaries of our minority, welcoming themselves into our little community and us into theirs.
So the real learning for me in all of this is that, as much as so many people have been opening their hearts to put smiles on the faces of Baby Nathan and his family during the holidays, we must realize how Baby Nathan is serving as an angel himself, a tool to bridge the gap between the HIV-positive and the HIV-negative, and show that we are still human and that everyone, regardless of gender, orientation and HIV status, can work together.
In this case, clearly HIV is not merely a disease. It is not a punishment. HIV has served as a tool in itself, a tool that possibly the heavens have sent down to give us humans the opportunities to show compassion, to cooperate, and to prove that there is still hope in the world. A tool that didn’t come in a completely pleasant form, but, as we are beginning to see, serves its purpose to show we are not living in a fallen and hopeless world.
Okay, so maybe the country is not completely ready for the reality of HIV. Maybe majority of people still cultivate the stigma attached to HIV. But I can firmly say that the times are changing. Slowly, but surely. I’ve been taking baby steps for some time now, and I’m happy to realize that more and more people are willing to take those baby steps, too... with me, and towards me.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Brain Overload
My Thursdays still have not managed to let my guard down. Again, it was H4 day. I was out of the house by 7:00 am, and a tricycle and a jeepney ride later, I reached the HIV ward of San Lazaro Hospital. It was just 8:00 in the morning, and lo and behold, I was first on the list!
I don't think they expected anyone that early, so the nurse just sat me down by the seats by the door of the building to take a breather, before they took down my vitals and while they finished their duties and reports.
After some time, more people poured in, and I gamely sat in their midst. It was not exactly in my comfort zone to mingle, but it was nice. I was finding it a bit hard to keep up, but I surprised myself by being comfortable in that crowd. There were around 20 of us there, and I got acquainted with a number of them, as they introduced me as "the new one".
I noticed a couple of them whip out what looked like white bank passbooks. I read what was written. Health Regimen Booklet. Hmmm, so I figure this is how their ARVs are monitored. I wasn't looking forward to getting one of my own though.
By 9:00 am, the doctors came. My usual doctor wasn't there. So the other doctor and a new one were on hand. They started off making rounds of the ward and checking on those confined. By about 9:30, they headed for the doctors' office and I was called in shortly.
She already had my folder on her desk, but still asked my patient code. She then flipped through another folder, where she was looking for my CD4 test results. Finding it and taking it from the folder, she sat down and looked at me sternly. She asked me some old questions again, like who knows, if I had a partner, and how I'm dealing. She reiterated the need to tell someone in the family. Rebriefing I guess.
At this point, she stared at my results, and asked me what I wanted to hear. Whether I wanted to hear the number flat out, or just if it was bad or good. I sort of giggled a bit at the question, and just said I wanted it all. She still held back a bit, looked at me, and said it was below 350. My mind raced at that point, but I kept a straight face. Normal is above 500, so it's not that good. But how far below 350? The critical 200 was below 350. Absolute zero was below 350, too. Tell me! Tell me!
Finally, she said it. My CD4 count is 343. Not entirely bad, but not good either. Almost midway between normal 500 and critical 200. She then said that she'd advise I get started on ARVs. But not before more counselling. And not before I have a support system behind me. Family preferably. Friends possibly. Anyone really. I said I was planning to tell my sister, and realized this development just made it more urgent. A lot to think about in the coming days.
The doctor then sent me off, but not before leaving me her mobile number, so I could contact her when I was ready to get counselling with whoever I chose.
I was honestly a bit defeated that I wasn't doing as well as I was feeling. I bid goodbye to my new friends out front before heading off back to work. I didn't even drop by the Social Hygiene Center. I was planning to just check in on Dra. Malou and the gang there, but suddenly didn't feel like it. Maybe another time, when I was less distracted.
I'm a bit glad that I have work to think about, and colleagues to laugh it up with and get stressed out by. But I won't be avoiding this for long. I'm left with a lot to think about right now. Head... hurts... hehehe.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Mabuhay!
May 28 is Philippine Flag Day. So in that light, let me tell you more about my beloved country.
The Republic of the Philippines is an archipelago in Southeast Asia. It is comprised of around 7,107 islands, depending on whether it's high or low tide, divided into 3 major island groups, 17 regions, 81 provinces, 136 cities, 1,494 municipalities and 41,995 barangays or villages. Whew. That's a lot.
The Philippines is a melting pot. We’re neither black nor white, we’re somewhere in between, the brown beings of the earth. We’re a melting pot of races, generations, cultures, religions, nationalities, dialects, traditions and sexualities.
I actually feel I'm lucky to be a gay man in the Philippines. I believe the general population is accepting of gays, as they can be encountered everywhere, as hairdressers, make-up artists, fashion designers, stand-up comedians, impersonators, entertainers, dancers, masseurs, girls' best friends, and lately, the trend has spread to customer service, especially call center agents.
I guess the sad part about it is that the stereotype of effeminacy still prevails, which causes the misuse of the word bisexual to encompass discreet gays here.
Homosexuals here are lucky, but to some extent. We are accepted, but not entirely celebrated. I mean I don't see any gay marriage laws taking effect any time soon. But other than the close-to-dying generation and the closed-minded catholic sector, we can live pretty freely with the rest of the normal Filipinos here.
Living with HIV in the Philippines is another thing. I’d say it’s still on the border of being taboo, just like contraception and safe sex. No one talks about it. I never knew or met anyone who had it before this. I’d only see people with HIV on the news, or in documentaries, and not that often either. It’s even still regarded by most as a gay disease. I think the mere fact that only one specific ward in one specific hospital caters especially to patients with HIV and AIDS might sum it all up. Are we being tucked away in a corner of the closet? I’m still trying to figure out for myself how it is really to be living here with HIV.
Although I do look purely Filipino, I am actually not,. My family tree will reveal traces of British, Panamanian, and Chinese in my mix. So I myself am a melting pot.
Regardless, I like it here. I’m not your typical Filipino whose ultimate dream is to go abroad and pursue so-called greener pastures, and eventually forget or deny that they were ever Filipinos.
On my sidebar, to express my pride in being Filipino, or ‘Pinoy for short, I now stamp this blog with the official “Proudly Pinoy” seal. Sa isip, sa salita, at sa gawa (By thoughts, by words and by actions…).
PinoyPoz is Filipino, and proud of it. Mabuhay!
