Pare, bakla ako

At the risk of playing into stereotypes, I will dare consider coming out as the most macho thing a gay guy can do.

For coming out is not a leisurely trip in the park. It is an agonizing process where one tries to weigh in and balance various factors from the personal to the social. Scenarios are built and most of the time, they are all grim and we cringe at the thought of one of them happening.

Myself, it took a broken heart, the not-so-holy spirit of Jack Daniels, and the knowledge of the political correctness of my colleagues to make me finally say that the "phase" I was in was for keeps.

Coming out is more of like a gauntlet thrown out by knights to pose a challenge. We say that we come out when we are ready and this readiness means we stick with dicks no matter what happens. Through thick or thin … or small, medium, large or extra large.

We come out expecting to get riddled with questions, to be met with amazement and even be ridiculed. Still we do so. Our coming out of the closet is a challenge we pose for others to come out of their own closeted existence where gays should, well, be in the closet.

The first people I came out to just said "OK". When I came out to my sister, she just warned me not to get a boyfriend before she does. My third coming out was on Facebook. It did result to some comments but definitely not to a discussion page.

Whether they did accept what I said or understood what it meant did not really matter. At the very least, it probably got them to think that from then on, they have to deal with a gay guy whenever I am around.

To paraphrase a quote by Mao, revolution is not a dinner party or embroidery. So is coming out though we do love parties and have nimble fingers for needlework. If a revolution is about creating a new society, coming out opens one up to a new way of life.

It takes a lot of nerves to man up and be gay. In the kind of society we are in, once you come out, you have to come out again and again to defend your choice, banish prejudices and smash stereotypes. It is like a perpetual ejaculation with no real orgasm immediately in sight.

However hard it is, I still prefer to be out.

In any case, something hard is not always a bad thing, right?

(Written as a contribution to the theorg-y. At dahil matagal na rin akong walang post.)

?

Snobbish-looking, yuppie, pierced, and with an office ID hanging around his neck. Probably just came out of the office and wasting time off before heading home, so I thought.

He went around the crowd, said hi to a few guys and bantered with some more. Another guy, obviously into him, monopolized him for a while. Probably a habitué, so I guessed.

He asked for a cocktail and beer that he drank alternately. Fascinating and a bit weird, so I mused.

I went back to nurse my beer.

Then for reasons I could not remember, probably the increasing crowd, he was right there standing right beside me – still looking aloof, still dressed like a yuppie, still with that ID around his neck, still with a glass of cocktail and a bottle of beer in his hands, pierced and (I noticed) tattooed.

And we talked.

He was not a snob. He was just on his way to work. He only knew the guys by their faces. He had only been there a couple of times. The other guy had been stalking him for two hours already, and yeah, his drinks combo was a bit weird but it somehow kept him from getting sloshed.

So much for probabilities.

We talked, got closer, talked, held hands, talked, got closer and ….

"What's the point of being in a relationship if you can't be physically together?"

So much for possibilities.

Though I don't want to think about it anymore, I sometimes do wonder if I got it wrong. Again.

Singular sensation*

Recently, I've been having thoughts about being single. I don't know why but maybe, just maybe, it's because I am.

Or maybe it's because every time I talk to a family member, any one of them is bound to ask me if I have "someone" in my life. Then, I'm always bound to say, "I don't have a someone. I have many-ones."

Or maybe it's because of a botched meet up with A.

Or maybe guys and relationships are the usual topics I have with my gay friends. I don't mind.

Maybe that's it. I don't mind being single. You can't miss something you never had, eh?

I know what it's like to be in a relationship. Having been around with people in various stages and types of romantic relationships has given me a fair picture of what's it like. Yeah, some may disagree and say that to really know one is to be in one. I do concur but it does not debunk what I so far understand about relationships. It is the same as I don't have to be a woman to understand the basics of women's concerns.

Being in a relationship has its ups and downs. There are high moments and low ones. It's a life bound by the same economic, political, social and cultural conditions, blah blah blah. Just like being single.

I do believe that everyone has to have someone with them. But it is not necessarily with a romantic someone.

I am single but I am not alone. I've never felt alone and it's probably due to the constant presence of comrades, family and friends. It's a belongingness that works for me now.

I don't mean to say that I'll be single for life. Romance is not known to be ageist. And yeah, I will take THAT step sometime, somehow.

As matters stand now though, I am happy being single. Anyway, who says that happiness cannot be had single-handed?

* Title was suggested by G: the ultimate sensational single (?) guy.

Before 2008 left

The holiday season turned out real happy and such a blast.

• We were able to pull this off: http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=O13X_F0XWlM. It was political and, at the same time, so fun to do. It did rain but it did not dampen the anti-chacha spirit of the dancers.
  

• Gifts. This was the only Christmas that I received more than two gifts including a Magical Orb that told me that I'll have a boyfriend this 2009 but we will also break up within the year. Talk about giving me a high and crushing my morale in a span of one minute.

• Went to a Christmas party with my gay friends and drank the whole night away together with never-ending stories and laments about men and relationships. Why does Christmas, at times, bring to fore what should not be brought up? Still, it was loads of fun. Then I went home with a slight hangover and a big crush. Joke!

• Finished reading Twilight. Though it's not something I am inclined to read again – as is my habit – it was alright. Half of the time I was reeling to strangle Bella to make up her mind and the other half imagining how it feels like to be torn between the likes of Edward and Jacob. It was a light read. Somewhat like Harry Potter but with fangs.

• Greeted the New Year with fellow migrant workers and became the Fruitsalad Queen. I am not sure if I ever stopped smiling and laughing for five straight hours. Does it mean that I'll be like this for the rest of the year?

Other stuff that happened here and there: a dinner with Kiks and a good friend, Steve; an unplanned sleepover that made me discover an unknown sleeping disorder of mine, and; the biggest 'birthday' event I've ever been.

It was a perfect two weeks. Well, almost … if only Israel did not go all berserk, bombed Gaza, and spouted the same mantra of "terrorism" that Bush used to spout just before he invaded Afghanistan and Iraq.

Happy New Year everyone!

Closet Talks

I've been thinking about closets recently and it's not just because Kiks and I are thinking of looking for one that can accommodate clothes and knick-knacks accumulated for years.

A question that nagged me a couple of days back was: can a relationship between an out gay man and a closeted one work? My opinion is that, yes it might for a while but there will come a point where the matter will have to get resolved: should the closeted person come out or the out gay guy comes back in the closet?

Basically, I think that for an out gay guy, going back to the closet is a very hard thing to do. It's too constricting, it's dark, it's messy and it's a place you'll never want to come back to once you've experienced being in the open. After the personal liberation of coming out, to be guarded once again with how you act, how you speak and the freedom of saying that "he's hot" to anyone without apologies is surely a gut-wrenching decision.

But of course, coming out is a decision that must not be forced. Else, instead of that sweet feeling of finally being able to do so, it becomes a bitter source of resentment and self-loathing.

Thoughts about closets once again came up after I finally watched Milk.

Indeed it was about the life of Harvey Milk. But it was the message of what he did while he lived that struck me more powerfully: gays must come out.

His advocacy to promote the rights of gays and protect the gains of the gay movement was both acts for out gay men to rally and an encouragement for closeted guys to come out. He thus worked for policies that could set the condition for those in the closet to be able to come out without shame and fear of any form of retribution.

Like any movement for change, it has ups and downs. But perseverance is hinged on and can lead to hope. For at the end, anyone who has been in an oppressed condition will want for a better one.

Every pride march, every rally for a gay cause and every time that someone speaks and acts for gay rights is a message to those in the closet that says, yes it can be done. Moreover, it must be done for, cliché as it may sound; it is in being and doing things together that give us the resolve to push forward.

Now I know I sound agitated.

Still the films let me look back to the times I spent inside the comfort of a closet that is actually a prison. We always say that experience is the best teacher and closets are not built to allow one to live and learn from the nooks and crannies of the gay life.

And yeah, if I have to live the gay life with someone like James Franco, I'll smash that closet into pieces.

Ayokong magmura, pero …

Namputcha naman!

http://www.tribune.net.ph/commentary/20081215com1.html

Nang mabasa ko ito, hindi ko napigilan ang mainis. Hindi lang ito simpleng gimik. Walang kahihiyang panloloko na ito.

Sa mga susunod na buwan eh nanganganib na mawalan ng trabaho ang libo-libong mga OFWs. Ang balita nga, mahigit 1,000 pa ang mapapauwi mula sa Taiwan ngayong buwang ito. Sa Macau ay may 500 na ang natanggal sa trabaho sa construction sector at may mahigit pang 12,000 na migrante ng iba't ibang lahi na nagta-trabaho sa casino ang hindi na raw ire-renew ang kontrata. Meron pang 500 sa property sector naman sa UAE ang nawalan na ng trabaho.

Kung sa kada 100 mapapa-uwing OFW ay magpapa- photo-op si Gloria, sana ay tamaan na sya ng kidlat sa pagiging sinungaling.

***

Namputcha naman ulit!

http://www.facebook.com/inbox/?ref=mb#/group.php?gid=42044632270

Ilang linggo ko na ring nababasa ang hinggil sa isyu na ito: ang pagkakait ng tenure ng Sociology Department ng College of Social Sciences and Philosophy (CSSP) ng UP Diliman kay Prop. Sarah Raymundo.

Ni ha ni ho ay walang sinabi ang puno ng departamento kung bakit. Basta na lamang sinabihan si Prop. Raymundo na hindi na nya kailangang magturo simula noong Nobyembre 6 at matatanggal na sya sa unibersidad pagkatapos ng kanyang kontrata sa Marso. Sampung taon ng nagtuturo si Sarah sa UP at naabot na nya ang mga rekisito para maging tenured faculty – may MA, magandang ebalwasyon ng kapwa-guro at estudyante, at may mga na-publish na sa mga kinikilalang journals.

Dahil wala namang iba pang maibigay na rason, simple lamang ang pagsusuri ng mga kapwa-guro, kaibigan at kasama ni Sarah: aktibista kasi sya.

Malayang kaisipan sa malayang pamantasan. Diba? Diba?!

Sa personal na antas, kilala ko na si Sarah noong estudyante pa lang sya. CNS sya at LFS ako. Kabatak, kaibigan at kasama. Bakla sya kung baklaan ang usapan pero hindi rin sya umuurong sa seryosong mga talakayan.

Ano na ba ang nangyayari sa UP Diliman?

***

Pagkatapos ng aking mga rants, Pride naman.

Wagi sya. Yun lang. Sa susunod na Pride March ulit …

(Salamat kay Kiks sa pagpapahiram ng larawan)

Pride against prejudice

A couple of things inspired me to write this. First was Lyka's post on the movie Milk. Second was the coming first Pride March in Hong Kong this Saturday. Third was because a friend of mine urged me to write about Pride.

But at the end, it is because I am gay.

Pride is a deadly sin and so they said. But if you've taken beatings once too many, it is liberating.

When I think of Pride, I think of celebration. I haven't been in a Pride March for it was only in Hong Kong did I come out. But anybody who's seen Queer as Folk or just knows how to browse the internet will have seen the rainbow of colors decorating floats and marchers in all the Pride events in the world.

When I think of Pride, I think of men and women – homosexuals and heterosexuals – who, in their own ways, have strived to make this world a place where gays need not live in fear. Of groups like Progay Philippines who have endeavored to make homosexuality a matter that should not only be discussed in hushed whispers or within the walls of the academe. Of the likes of Jonjon whose case has shown that reasons abound for such marches.

When I think of Pride, I think not only of individual pride on who I am, how I turned out to be and how I will still be. Beyond this is the collective pride in the community whose struggles have seen highs and lows but still standing. There may be differences in opinions and various debates even among us but still, the common cause against discrimination and prejudices and destroying the myths on homosexuality remains.

Lyka asked how far have we gone since the time of Harvey Milk? If I may dare add, how far are we willing to go?

I know that you cannot live on hope alone. But without it, life is not worth living. And you, and you and you gotta give them hope. – Harvey Milk

The Pride March may only be for one day and, in fact, for only two hours. But the pride and hope that it gives may last for a lifetime.

***

On a different but related note, tomorrow is the International Human Rights Day. Allow me to share this video of the human rights situation in the Philippines. Nothing that I may say can equal the message that the images here evoke.

Bayard who?

I came across his character in the movie "Boycott" but I never really became aware of the man until I saw Brother Outsider.

When one hears of the civil rights movement in the United States, the name Martin Luther King comes to mind. But lurking in the background – in fact, way before King became a symbol of the Black American's struggle for their rights – was Bayard Rustin. A gay activist.

Admittedly, I am not that familiar with the history of the civil rights movement aside from the Montgomery bus boycott, the Ku Klux Klan and the deplorable practice of lynching.

To know the life of Bayard Rustin is to admire his guts for standing up to a system and period where it was a curse to be black and an abomination to be gay. But he did live the life he knew in his heart was right.

I may not agree with his pacifist principles but considering the historical period he lived in, how he stood by what he believed in is admirable at the very least. Despite the repression he faced mainly from the state and at some point from his colleagues – due to his sexuality and color – he just pushed on and on.

"The proof that one truly believes is in action." So true.

Of mixed signs and signals

One of the stuff we hate but cannot avoid.

It is really frustrating to say the least. Is it really hard to say what you mean, mean what you say, do what you mean and mean what you do?

If consciously done, mixed signals are downright mean, scheming and manipulative. If done inadvertently, they bespeak of indecision.

In the 10 fabulous things with being gay (I forgot the exact title), they said that gay guys know what they want thus we go out of our way to really specify who we are and what we are looking for: rice queen, potato queen, chubs, bears, top, bottom, versa, etc.

While it does sometimes make things simpler, I can't help but think that it somehow also diminishes that certain kind of pleasure in discovering what else is out there and how one thinks about it in relation to his own self. Isn't self-awareness a continuing process?

But on the other hand, not knowing takes one back to the nerve-wracking, head-splitting world of mixed signals.

Catch -22. Damn if you do. Damn if you don't.

Oh well, maybe there really is no way of avoiding mixed signals. Maybe it just boils down to learning the trick of identifying the primary signals from the secondary ones and the imagined signals from real ones.

Though up to now, I'm still trying to grapple the meaning of this sign:

But this one is totally different:

It's kinda blurred but it says: "Shirts and Shoes Required. Bras and Panties, Optional". Fairly straightforward if one can wrap his mind on the fact that I found these in a restaurant. Effectively stopped me from entering.

At least this sign knows what it wants:

If only it can say it properly. (Sigh!)

The longest-running-whatever of my entire gay life

Alright, since I've spilled the beans on the fictional rejection, I might as well run through the whole gauntlet and talk about real ones. It can be exorcism at its best and masochism at its worst.

I think there can be two general types of rejection.

The first is the one that just comes naturally even without the other guy saying it. It is a matter of interpreting the signals from the other guy that can come in various forms, and degrees of obviousness. The more complicated and can drive you insane are of course the mixed signals. But as time passes, they usually sort themselves out.

I've been in this spot a couple of times. It's frustrating and leaves you with the feeling that you're hanging upside down and anytime, any day, you're gonna get the axe. It's like you are on trial for the crime of falling first.

But the axe never falls and what you are given is a suspended sentence until you get off the hook completely.

The second one is the in-your-face rejection that many of us try to avoid as much as possible. At the very least, it is an awkward situation for both parties but it also kinda shows their maturity.

Yes, I've also been in this spot. This time I'm not kidding though there was less drama than what I imagined in the last post. And no, it was not Kiel. It was with a common friend of ours.

This guy was not the usual guy I go for. I knew him by reputation even before I saw him larger than life. Believe me, he is large (height-wise, at least).

When I saw him at last, I played it real cool. I treated him like a usual guest though my insides were tied in knots. No, I'm not gonna say why I liked him that time because I'm sure he's reading this right now and I like to think that he's squirming in his seat at this moment.

Anyway, it was an on-and-off thing for he was not based in Hong Kong. But it was the longest-running-whatever of my entire gay life. Started in 2001 and ended in 2005.

But now we are friends. It's funny how I used to be all fidgety when he's around and afraid to even just message him online for I didn't know what to really say to him. Now, we even make fun of those happy days.

I guess if you look at love and relationship as something that you should work for, then its value depends on how much effort you put on it. In the face of rejection, how it is dealt with it depends on how hard you work to get the elusive mutuality of feelings. The more you put, the deeper it goes. The deeper it goes, the longer it is for acceptance to come and for moving on to start.

Maybe it's why breaking up is harder. At the end of it, isn't a breakup just another form of rejection?

Here is the thing: after the rejections, I did recover in a jiffy and in only one or two cases did I break down once or twice. Still, I got to recover. And thinking about it, even maybe too quickly.

Now I wonder, have I not loved that deeply?

This was supposed to be posted yesterday but I was not sure if I should. It started as a dare and it ended as … well, like I said above, an exorcism.

Fragments of an afternoon

Hot.

Went inside a bookshop. Stopped at the entrance for a while and looked. A nod and a hint of smile. Hot.

Browsed through the racks of books. Not really wanting to buy anything. Took some off the shelf in random and read the jackets: James Patterson, Patricia Cornwell, David Baldacci and oh, a Harry Potter in paperback. Biography of god knows who, an autobiography of one the devil only cares.

Another look. A few seconds more and then …. A meeting to preside and a seminar to give.

Went back. Stopped at the entrance for a while and looked. Another nod, another smile. Hot.

Walked straight to the sci-fi/fantasy section. Robert Jordan, David Eddings, Peter Hamilton. Started to read Trudi Canavan’s Age of Five series. No money to buy. Glimpses from time to time. Hot.

Another look. A few seconds more. A nod. A smile.

Walked out.

Jack. Off.

Hot.

Lessons for the day:

1. Knowledge is power, visit your nearest bookstore
2. Dymocks Booksellers: Where it's easy to find, hard to find bookings!

"At Work"

At the risk of reinforcing the wrong impression on my sex life - given the 'smear' campaign by Gibo and Kiks - my ass is a little bit sore.

For the past couple of days, I’ve been sitting hours after hours in front of the PC stringing words that should sound professional, broad, and appealing for those who hold the purse. Honestly, I feel like I did a mediocre job of it. Anyway, I did my best and it should be freakin’ good enough at least for now.

In between bouts of inspiration for what I was writing and staring blankly at the screen, I had sex. Kidding! I watched movies after movies.

The line-up: Boy Culture, Phoenix, Coffee Date, Hancock and The Seeker. Oh, I also re-watched episodes of my four fave TV shows. This may give you an idea of how frequent the ‘in between work’ moments have been.

(To digress a wee bit, my weird work ethics include working while dialogues of something I’ve watched before play in the background.)

Anyway, it was a good thing that my movie marathon ranged from entertaining to quite good ones that raise questions we usually ask and topics that we usually talk about. The former describes the sci-fi/fantasy flicks while the latter are on the gay-themed ones.

Boy Culture asks about: A. sex, B. love, C. relationship – the three favorite themes for many of us. All the permutations of the drama and fun of gay romance come from mixing one with the other/s. A plus or minus B plus or minus C can equal one-night stands, fuck buddies, open relationships, platonic relationships, platonic and lustful relationships, virtual, long-distance, etc.

We add and subtract as we play the field hoping to finally get that explosive equation. Sometimes we do.

Phoenix, meanwhile, deals with betrayal and how broken one can be if he experiences that breakdown of trust. The film has some dragging moments wherein you feel like you’re just waiting for the two betrayed guys to just jump into bed and devour each other. (Which they did eventually.)

Finally it just says that one can deal with a relationship betrayal in two ways: either be burned by it and get miserable or look at it as a time to learn and realize that he’s not worth it and someone better will come along.

Coffee Date is a bit different. We are used to topics of gays asserting to live as one. But this film put a twist: what happens when a straight guy finds himself defending his sexuality tooth and nails. Interestingly, the very same stereotypes about gays are the same stereotypes this straight guy has to face to prove he’s a hetero.

While it is funny, it also shows how the macho culture impacts males – gay or straight. A little off-tangent is the homophobic brother turning out to be gay and transforming overnight from this macho I’ll-barf-if-you-say-gay into an in-your-face homo who wears a tight pink shirt, speaks in high-pitched voice, and sees every guy who looks at him as a potential trick. It just doesn’t work that way.

Anyway, for this week so far, the activist in me is a tad disturbed and distracted while the gay in me is quite contended.

God, if only I can string these two into a cohesive proposal that can make money, the sore ass will be much more worth it!

Bending over

To live life without compromise.

Beneath the comedy and punchlines of Legally Blonde the Musical and The Curiosity of Chance is the question of how far one should compromise ones self to be accepted in a particular social setup.

Everyone who has a gay bone in his body knows the story of Elle Woods. So there is no need to repeat how Elle was dumped by Warner, how she went to Harvard law School to get him back, how she met Emmet, how she tried to remake herself to be the typical law student, and how she came back – all pink, all blonde, all smiles – with a vengeance ... Ooops.

The musical version did not depart from the story line. Only gayer.

Meanwhile, The Curiosity of Chance, tells about the story of Chance Marquis and how he asserted who he really is among schoolmates, colleagues and his family. He was trashed, bullied, and even made to feel unaccepted by his own dad.

Still in the end he made his mark.

Elle Woods and Chance Marquis showed how a sore thumb could turn into a beacon.

As the theme of the two as I perceive it hits me, I have to remind myself that it’s a musical and a movie. Anything is possible. Even to be THAT blonde or THAT flamboyant.

To live a life with no compromise is good on a shirt. But we are basically social beings and bound by our social relations and societal norms. Thus we often find ourselves either conforming or conceeding. How many times have we found ourselves in a compromising position? Not THAT kind of compromising position.

But what Elle and Chance did also show is that compromises have limits. It is not worth it to compromise what defines ones self for the sake of acceptance or sometimes even love. Neither will be lasting. Neither will be true.

I myself have made numerous compromises. There are even ocassions when I do conform if the situation calls for it.

Still, there are matters that I , for the life of me, cannot presently imagine compromising. The politics I uphold, the choices I have made and views on a number of social practices. There were times I did waver and put all of these into question. To continue to hold on to them is a lifetime question.

However, if he is the one who will talk me into something I am not really willing to do, I am not sure how far I can take it until I bend over.

Then I may not be able to sing: “See, dreams really do come true, you never have to compromise. Omigod!”

R & R & R

A friend of mine recently pointed out that my recent posts were a bit morose. For sure it was not intentional but they were what struck my mind on the events of the past few days.

Pardon me if I gave the impression of being depressed. I was not. Tired, yes. Off the weather maybe. But generally still me.

Yesterday was a new day and boy was it good. It started with a rally and ended up so gay.

July 1st - the anniversary of the territory's hand over to mother China - is traditionally the time for HK activists to go out on the streets. Notwithstanding the tradition part, the issues presented to the HK government were concrete and urgent.

For the foreign domestic workers, it was the time to ask the HKSAR government: "where's our wage increase?"

Halfway through the year, there is still no clear indication that a even a little wage hike is in the offing. While businesses have already benefited from the showers of incentives from the HK$100 billion budget surplus, FDWs are still waiting for the economic rebound to ... err, rebound to them.

The searing heat did not stop the people from calling for a genuine racial discrimination bill, a legislated minimum wage for all HK workers, as well as a break from cuts on social services. Though the weather did not help at all, a dose of direct action is always an uplifting experience.

From the rally, I took a bit of rest. Just surfed around and took a chance to chat with someone who did not want to chat with me. But that's another topic altogether.

Anyway, I then had a great night with my gay friends. Alright, also with the straight guys. Fine, also with the women who were there.

It was the birthday party of a friends' mom (who, by the way, can be the PFLAG prexy in the RP if ever there shall be one) and little bro. The place was great, the food was greater, and the company was the best.

I missed these bunch.

They all have their eccentricities but it's always a riot when they come together. Maybe it's a thing with us gays.We usually accept people as they are, warts and all. Unless you are a bigot and, at least in my case, GMA and her ilk.

After a couple of rounds of vodka and any chaser at hand, talks just flow from the mundane to the ... well, less mundane. Peace beckies! It was fun, relaxing and very very gay!

I started off this month somewhat reinvigorated. Rally, rest and recreation.

There's another R that I can write about: Romance. But it sucks. And if I do write about it as of this time, the tone of the post will be much different. Morose may not even be enough.

Something old, something new

My hard disk and Creative Zen are stacked with movies like The Kite Runner, Across the Universe, No Country for Old Men, The Great Debaters and old pinoy must-sees such as Tinimbang ka Ngunit Kulang and Batch 81. Yet, I haven’t seem to find the urge to really watch them.

Instead, for the past few days or weeks even, I was contended to re-watch films and TV series episodes that I’ve seen many times over. It’s one of my sometimes irritating eccentricities but that’s me.

Listening to the same dialogues I’ve heard before and even memorized, looking at the same scenes I’ve already seen, and knowing exactly what will happen next is kinda comforting.

Maybe that’s it. There’s something comforting about old stuff. It’s familiar, it’s easy and it’s already there. But yes, there are times when we really have to embrace the new.

This was what Shelter – a movie I accidentally watched – was all about for me.

The plot of the film was simple: Zach is a poor boy living with his sister and his nephew. He loves them so much and takes his responsibility to them seriously that he’s torn between staying with them and following his dream of becoming an artist. For a time, he has chosen the former.

Until Shaun came along and made the situation more complicated.

Shelter is said to be a gay film. Indeed, it has gay characters, it has a gay coming out subplot, it has a sweet and hot love scene and it does show half-naked bods (surfers!). But it goes beyond gay themes.

The word “shelter” gives an image of a safe haven. But it is bound to happen that we have to go out and face the unfamiliar, the uncomfortable and the difficult. For the familiar, comfortable and easy are not what life is really all about.

When Zach finally chose to pursue art school and at the same time embraced his homosexuality, it was liberating. And sweet.

The prospect is scary but the rewards may be great. The tricky part though is that it is not a breeze to do it. Always, it is not a case where we can just pack our bags, leave most things behind and start afresh.

The even trickier part is to embrace what’s new without totally letting the old one go. When we embark on the new, we also take what we can of the old for it is not always bad the same thing as the new is not always good.

I may like to watch the same films, see the same episodes, read the same books, and live the same life day in and day out. But there’s always something new that comes along that is pleasant, worthwhile and, yes, liberating when I grab it by the balls.

Oh yeah, the film’s soundtrack is also cool. It’s something new that I fully intend to look for, get and put together with the old stuff I have.

Some Endings (or not)

A friend of mine is leaving Hong Kong for good.

He put our relationship succinctly in a card he gave me last night: weird.

We are not the type who talk endlessly for hours on a regular basis. In fact, it takes a miracle for us to see each other twice or thrice a month.

Despite such infrequent meet ups, our different takes on GMA and other political matters, our different fashion sense, and our different lifestyles, our friendship survived the three years that we’ve known each other. We usually talk as if we just saw each other yesterday.

I’ll miss the cakes he brings me from the Philippines (he gave me a sinful, chocolate-topped, chocolate-filled chocolate cake last night). I’ll miss his questions about Hong Kong as if I’m the expert. I’ll miss talking to him about his exes. And darn it, I never even got the chance to see his boyfriend I advised him to say yes to years ago.

We had an easy camaraderie. Somehow, I know we’ll see each other again and somehow, I know we’ll take it up again from where we left off.

* * *

Two of my favorite TV series just had their season finale.

Season 2 of Brothers and Sisters ended with the two most unlikely persons to get married getting hitched. Then there were these two characters I’ve been dying to see kiss finally do it. Nora was her usual self that make me wish I’m a Walker. Obviously I am not but apparently a certain “Ryan” is.

Meanwhile, Grey’s Anatomy ended its fourth season with a bang. Finally, finally Derek and Meredith seem to have a chance. Cristina has resurfaced from her recently battered self. George – why isn’t he playing gay? – is getting his mojos up. Alex has shown his gentlest side yet. Izzie looks like she has found her niche.

Shonda Rhimes did convey what she wanted with those last two episodes. There’s hope and there will be Season 5.

* * *

Ka Bel will be lain to rest today. Accolades he rightfully deserves have been given in the Philippines and abroad. Many people will surely miss him. As what my friends Kiks and Ina said, it is hard to talk about Ka Bel in the past tense.

He has been an important part of the people’s movement. I guess for as long as the national democratic movement lives on, Ka Bel will always be present.

* * *

I thought about ending it last night. There’s too much at stake, too many hassles, too much complications and too many reasons to call it quits.

But I can’t ....

Out!

Coming out for gay men is usually a production number that can rival Belle Stars and the VIP dancers. Mine wasn’t so.

The first time I came out was to to my activist friends. They just asked me point blank if I am gay (if I remember correctly, it was after a couple of drinks), and I candidly said yes without even accounting for my non-existent bi years.

I think it was the time when I was really into this guy who was definitely gay but nobody dared ask. But anyway, my friends just said “good.” And it was.

It was good to finally be able to admit that any romantic notion with the Gabrielas is not a foreseeable life for me. It was good to finally be able to say the word without fear (yes, my friend Ryeness, so Broken Hearts Club). It was like the past has finally been put in its place and the future has been put in a clearer perspective. The present is still in the making.

A few hours ago, I learned of my second coming (beat that JC, a second coming) out .

My sister - the best in the world in my opinion, of course – said that she told my mother of who I am. To cap the great revelation, she told my eldest brother as well. She should have been with the KBP.

Seriously though, I am thankful. When one does not have a clear a idea on how to proceed, a slight push is always welcome.

And how did they react? My mom tried to deny it at first. My sister’s power of persuasion was just too much that she just said in the end: “ganun ba?”. My Kuya just said that it’s fine by him but he’ll pull my hair out if I get myself a boyfriend. That’s a bridge I have to cross when I see him again.

All in all, I guess it went better than many gay guys have to contend with when outting to his own family. It’s funny that the people who are supposed to love us are usually the ones we dread coming out to.

But I am confident now that however they look at gayness, my mom will still love me as her child and my bro will still treat me as his youngest sibling whose choices he has respected ever since.

I know that there’ll be moments of serious talks in the near future, but the stage has been set.

No, my coming out/outs was/were not a production number. Maybe I had it easier than some of us. The fear factor of the whole brouhaha did not figure prominently in my case.

Remember that feeling when one dreads something and as it turned, it wasn’t worth sweating it out at all? Then you just wanted to blurt out, “yun lang yun?”.

Still, I just wish for a time to come when coming out for anyone won’t be a production number. Or a number at all..

(May 17 is the International Day Against Homophobia or IDAHO. It was on this day in 1990 when the World Health Organization removed homosexuality from their list of mental disorders. This is a just personal post for the said event.)

A Shot at Love

I bit more than I can chew when I said I’ll post something about love. I’ll take it up from what a friend wrote.

“I thrive in objectivity. By training and by practice, I analyze and rationalize and sometimes, even overly so.”

Years of talking with other people about their love life – the crazy and the profound, the romantic and the bland – has made me look at love objectively. But as others say, you’ll never really know until you feel it.

Like all other emotions, it is hard to be rational with love. Some even looks at it as insanity.

Amidst all the irrationality, a level head must still be maintained. Rationality is not the tap that can turn an emotion on and off. But it is what gives the direction. So that we get tempered. We get to consider our actions. We get to learn.

“Through common blog friends, we “met”. I enjoyed reading yours and you said the same for mine though you do not really read the political things I write about. That’s fine and it doesn’t matter now. I also do not read things you write about fashion. Maybe the themes will grow on us later.”

How do you say you know a person long enough to love him? There is no hard and fast rule I guess. Because knowing a person is a continuous process.

Of course there are the basic things to know thus the oh-so-lame now a/s/l. But people do essentially change. Thus if emotions like love is based on how you know and relate with a person, then they also change. They may grow and strengthen and they may also stagnate and die.

The condition may be difficult. In many cases, it is a matter of distance. A friend of mine said that distance is just an excuse. I say it is part of the condition that is used to justify an excuse. As we usually say, “effort talaga to.” We may lose despite the effort. But as always, the possibility is there.

“So when did it happen? I don’t know when. How did it happen?”

When one falls, he falls. Sometimes, when matters but not so much so with how.

It is seldom that one finds a person he can talk for hours with and still look forward to the next time. Of course love is not measured by such alone. If it is, then shrinks have the best romance in the world.

I do enjoy our conversations. It has become almost automatic of me to be in front of my laptop at 3:00 pm barring any meeting or appointment. This reminds me of the three o’clock habit our religion teacher taught us in primary school. Only a wee bit more sinful.

We talk. We connect. It is what we have now and maybe it will work out.

“Recently you asked what the future holds. I don’t know. The question, for now, is as wide as the ocean that is between us.”

Love. It sucks oh so often. Still, we love.

Hang ups

Tinanong ako ng kaibigan ko, in English dahil maarte kaming mag-chat: “why are we drawn to men with hang ups?” Muntik ko nang idugtong: “or fall for them.” Pero hindi ko ginawa dahil masyadong ma-drama.

Maraming tipo ng hang ups. Iba’t iba ang hugis, tindi at laki. Para ding mga lalaki. Merong slightly hung, merong well hung at merong hang up ang pag-iisip kung sya nga ba ay hung.

Hindi ko lang alam kung directly o inversely proportional ang hang up sa pagiging hung.

May hangups na malaki at may hangups na maliit. Mayroong relatibong petty at meron din namang halos lumalamon ng buong katauhan. Mayroong bitbit pa simula puberty at meron namang nakuha sa pagla-lamyerda sa buhay-mature daw. Mayroong hinggil sa relasyon, sa kaibigan, sa pamilya, sa sex, sa trabaho, atbp. Hahaba ito kapag inisa-isa.

Maraming drama ang bakla. Ironic dahil wala sa kahulugan ng salitang “gay” ang drama. Pero sabi rin nga, sino ba namang tao ang walang drama.

Tingin ko, lahat naman ng drama ay may pinagsimulan. Weird kapag nag-emote ka na lang bigla para lang mapaiyak o dahil trip. Parang art for art’s sake lang yun.

At katulad rin ng maraming drama sa buhay, pwede ring ugatin ang drama ng bakla sa kasalukuyang kalagayan. Mahirap kumilos ng labas sa batas at praktika – legal, pulitikal, kultural, sosyal – na itinatakda ng lipunan. Anumang arte sa personal at relasyon ng mga tao ay hinuhugis din ng umiiral sa kapiligiran.

Mahirap nga marahil ang mabuhay na gay and happy. Dahil sa huli, hindi happy ang maging gay sa sitwasyon ngayon. Batbat tayo ng drama sa pag-a-out, buhay ng isang out o ng pagtukoy ng ano ba o paano ang relasyong bakla. Nasa gitna tayo ng diskriminasyon at homophobia na umaabot pa sa puntong katakutan o kasuklaman ang sariling kasarian. Umiiral din ang pang-aabuso at karahasan sa kabaklaan.

Dahil nga lipunan ang nagtatakda ng buhay-bakla, tingin ko rin ay infectious ang hang ups. Dugtong nga ng kasing-arte kong friend/chatmate, “it’s something that even a condom can’t protect you from.”

Tapos, nakakairita pa kapag naging hang up mo ang taong may hang ups. Hindi ka makapag-isip ng matino. Hindi ka makapag-trabaho ng maayos. Ang plastic ng iyong tawa. Hindi ka makabuo ng coherent thought. Minsan hyper ka. Minsan naman eh catatonic.

Mas malala kung hang up mo na rin ang hang up nya. Para talagang gremlins na dumadami pag nabasa.

Panghuli, naisip ko rin na hindi totoo na we end up with guys with hang ups. Ang totoo, we go nowhere with them. Paikot-ikot. Paulit-ulit. Iba’t iba lang ang casts.

Pero lahat naman siguro ng hang ups, one way or another, ay pwedeng tapusin – itulog lang ng isang gabi o dumaan sa maraming araw ng pagpupuyat. O ng pakikibaka kung ang hang up ay ang sistema at lipunan.

Lahat rin naman ng drama ay may ending. Gaya nito.

Jolted by Jan-Jan

Jan-Jan rocked my world. Even if I don’t know him.

By now, many of the gaydom kind (at least the bloggers) are in an uproar over what the despicable alleged doctors, nurses, medical staff and medical students who were inside the operating room, did to him. I won’t repeat what procedure at the Vicente Sotto Memorial Medical Centre in Cebu he had because that wasn’t the issue then and is definitely not the issue now.

I didn’t grow up gay though it didn’t mean I wasn’t one.

Probably like every other gay man, I didn’t have the guts to be gay before. Seeing how gay guys are ridiculed and hearing disparaging remarks about them (“bakla kasi kaya so and so”), who would want to be gay … or, even worse, an open one?

Unnatural, freak of nature, butt of jokes, looked down upon – we’ve all heard it before and it has not significantly changed. There may be more openly gay guys now, more films that tackle the issue, more gender-sensitivity education sessions that include homosexuality, more books on gay men, and more Pride marches.

But everytime we think that it’s better, gay pride gets a beating.

So no, I didn’t grow up gay. Even when I became an activist, I didn’t come out. Why? Maybe because I knew it didn’t matter with the people I worked with.

It was only about seven or eight years ago that I finally admitted to people around me that I’m gay. Being one within the activist circle shielded me from the brunt of ridicule and humiliation. Of course, it has not been a perfect world. There were still off-the-line remarks and attitudes from time to time but they could be, and they were, immediately challenged.

Ensconced within circles of politically-minded people, the reality that not everyone are like my colleagues was relegated to the back of my mind. Recognized but not realized.

Until Jan-Jan came along.

There’s the issue of ethics. There’s the issue of professionalism. And at the core of it, there’s the issue of homosexuality in Philippine society.

For all gays who have been ridiculed, laughed at and humiliated. For all those who have been forced to live in fear and in the shadows. For all those who love men and are not allowed to do so. For all those who suck, fuck and are into cocks. There’s a Jan-Jan in many of us. So, in a way, we know him.

Jan-Jan rocked my world. And it’ll take nothing short of liberation that can put it back in place.

(I do hope that gays back home will do something about this. If gays abroad can do anything, I’ll put in what I can. Some ideas are here.)