Written By Keir Lorenz Frias
The rain continued to sing a lullaby through the busy streets of Cebu City as I sat uncomfortably in a bus ride home, eyes wide open amidst the chatter of the people onboard. As the journey continued, I typed in the last line of my poem: “Love must be in the hands of the couple across. And if heaven hasn’t forgotten about me, why does it tighten my chest?”
Throughout my years, there has always been this desire in me of wanting to be desired, to be loved, to have my heart held like a Fabergé egg, so fragile, so delicate it could break if the wind blows the wrong way. We all did and we still do. As a single person, it’s one thing to observe couples holding hands in the street. But as single and gay, that sight takes on a different weight. Nothing is more crushing than seeing a couple communicating in the universal language of love – a language I am so often denied by those with whom I share this planet.
One can be familiar with all things sharp but never with all sharp words. The world must’ve broken one’s heart too much to be used to all the knives and daggers that come out of people’s mouths, to be numbed by all the unnecessary hate and anger that one encounters. Amidst all of the confusion that comes with knowing you belong in the rainbow community, I have learned how the world has become so damned and wretched, shutting out everything that comes close to a shine, bringing down anything that attempts to soar high, and hunting down those who choose to be happy.
My childhood was at the expense of this planet’s inhabitants who saw not a child, but a fruit of Satan’s works. I can’t say much has changed since my pillows still soak up tears at midnight and my room still reminds me of all the wounds I’ve tried concealing. One. Two. Three. It does not stop at three. The insults flow like an unquenchable waterfall on a daily basis. One can only hold so much pain in their hearts until everything breaks loose. I remember asking my friend, Dorothy, once about her upbringing as a gay person and she told me that “With all the discrimination and hate towards our community, I would have to sometimes ask my friends or my girlfriend even to hide some things around my parents or when we’re together with certain (conservative) people. Especially with me and my girlfriend, we had and still have to hide from other people, which to me is unfortunate as it hinders us to fully express ourselves and our feelings in places where heterosexual people can otherwise simply do.” It’s not a story with which I will ever become familiar, nor can I fully grasp the hurt that’s written along its lines.
Being especially sensitive to the world around us, she confessed the pain she endures each time she’s pushed into a whirlpool of negative emotions – a reminder of how the world makes it so difficult for us to fully express ourselves without the risk of being broken, of how we constantly have to dilute our true selves, just to receive a shred of basic respect.
Sometimes it feels like something out of a movie, how this hate has been conjured up to take a life of its very own. Like the buzzing cars outside the bus windows, it has become so large that it takes on different forms not just here, but across the entire world. The number of discriminatory laws passed against the LGBTQIA+ community has been escalating. From the start of this year up to April 3, there have already been at least 417 bills proposed against the rainbow community in state legislatures across America, according to data prepared by the American Civil Liberties Union. This is already more than double the number of similar bills passed in all of last year.
Raindrops looked like tears rolling down the windows of the bus as the posters outside lit up amidst the inevitable darkness of the night. I looked up and saw a billboard holding out big bold letters that said the words “Be Yourself”. It’s so easy to roll your eyes over lines this society continues to preach but never really mean. It continues to seem like we’re living in a big church with a bad religion towards a heaven unpromised and to belong, one must join in with all of the lies.
It was a cold night, just like this, when I vowed to never let this hell of a place dim my colors. It takes a lot of darkness to see the light, one would say. And I do believe in this truth, this one truth that doesn’t hurt that much.
I’ve taken too many polaroids of people who have continued to root for me in this journey. I’ve written too many love letters to my friends who stood with me amidst all the chaos that haunts my kind. I’ve spent too many nights poking at my scars and questioning the wounds I’ve gained in this war. I’ve watched love unfold in the books I read and the movies I watch – the love I know I deserve. And I’ve looked at the world too many times in my own rainbow-colored lenses to know that the sun still shines on a cloudy day.
I remember the beautiful words my friend, Elisha, told me one summer afternoon, “All of the sharp words I’ve encountered made me realize that I didn’t really need to hate myself. I just needed the time to be patient and discover things for myself. There will always be people who will support you despite how ugly the world gets.” This I know, I am not a lone warrior and I never will be from then on. “The world can continue to throw their spades and pitchforks, I know my love will save me.” We shared a hug and somehow, this gave me a glimmer of hope. I’ve managed to believe that my love will save me too. Maybe, just maybe, it will save us all.
The rain still continued to sing a lullaby through the busy streets and I sat uncomfortably in this bus ride home, eyes still wide open amidst the chatter of the people onboard as I looked at my last typed line of my poetry, “Love must be in the hands of the couple across and if heaven hasn’t forgotten about me, why does it tighten my chest?”. There was silence and then there was warmth. In the darkness of this sentence, I have finally found the light that I’ve longed for. Like a tug of the heartstrings, a note of one’s favorite song, the happy ending to a bedtime fairy tale, I erased these cursed words. “Love must be in the hearts of those who choose to be happy at the mercy of hatred,” I typed in. Right then and right there, I knew I already had it.