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The Summer That Opened My Eyes

The vaccination drive smelled like hand sanitizer and sweat under the hot sun. At 17, I thought I knew how our town worked, but what I saw that day changed everything. Madame EME, who managed the catering, gave me what seemed like an easy job - just hand out sandwiches and collect signatures. But as I moved through the crowd, I couldn't ignore the difference between the two lines. The regular folks - elderly grandparents and tired nurses - stood for hours in the blazing heat with only crackers to eat, while the "special" people like the mayor's son Gigi and his friends lounged comfortably in the shade, enjoying cold drinks and pasta while skipping the line. My stomach twisted seeing this. It might have been allowed, but it wasn't right.

When Gigi posted that bragging video online - showing off his vaccine while eating fancy food with the caption "Done with my shot! Thanks Dad!" - something inside me snapped. Without thinking too much, I tagged the health department in his post. My hands shook as I hit send, but I couldn't just watch anymore. The reaction came fast - by afternoon people were shouting, Gigi deleted his post in a panic, and Madame EME cornered me, her face red with anger. "You stupid kid!" she hissed, her breath hot on my face. I got punished with dishwashing duty, my arms aching as I scrubbed pots all evening. But in the steamy kitchen, I overheard Nurse Dolor whispering to tricycle drivers about "extra vaccines" available behind the town hall. Her voice was so quiet, so careful, but her eyes burned with determination. I realized then she was risking her job to help people the system forgot.

In the Philippines, a "fiesta" is a big party. It's like a celebration for a town, a birthday, or a religious holiday. People get together, eat yummy food, and have fun.

Before Borongan's fiesta, our instructor asked us to attend the ESSU NITE. I was so happy because it was a chance to get out of our boring boarding house and spend time with my friends. That night, I watched some of my friends perform on stage, especially Annalie's group. Afterward, we went to a fun place called the "peryahan." It was like a carnival with lots of tasty food, souvenirs, and exciting rides. I even rode the "octopus" ride, which helped me overcome my fear of heights. After that, we went to Baybay where there was a party, but it was late so we headed home.

ESSUPHORIA is a special event for ESSU students, this event is full of fun despite being a bit tiring. There's lots of food to choose from, but I choose to just have fun and enjoy the event with my friends rather than spending my allowance on pricey treats (like Teh Kape pala ubos na anak allowance hahaha).

Before the event, my classmates asked me to join a chant-making contest, even though I'm soft-spoken (keme) and do not have the voice that is needed for the chant. I saw it as a chance to step out of my comfort zone and meet new people. The rehearsals weren't as fun as expected, with some members being bossy, but it was still a good experience. I can't help but be intrigued by people's bellies, especially those fatty bellies, even though I'm not body-shaming I'm just obsessed with it.

I am the only son of my parents, I feel a heavy burden because I know that my parents expect me to be the one to inherit our family's name to my children but I know that I couldn't do it because of my gender, it was hard for me to hide my real identity because I know that I have a big responsibility on my family, I kept it for a long time and it was not easy, I forced myself to do the my part as their son. I helped my parents earn money for savings to give our family a good future. I help my sister sell goods for her to be able to attend her online class. I did everything to make them proud of me. I even entered a work during the pandemic to avoid seeing my mother cry.

During the pandemic I started to know myself well. I started to know who I am and what am I. I started to wonder what will my parents say or what will be their reaction if I tell them I'm not straight. I started questioning my existence, but all those wondering stopped and I almost explode when my mother sent me a text message.

August 16, 2021, I was at the RHU receiving the PR for the vaccination, when I received a text message from my mother saying "BAKLA KA?" and the time I read my mother's text message I almost explode, and right after I received the PR I ran to my grandparents house and ask for advice and tell them that I can't control my emotions. I don't know what to do, I don't know what will they do to me, I don't know if they will treat me the same, I don't know if they will accept me. I tried to be straight but it didn't work out. But my grandma said "MAARAM NA KAMI HIT NAG HUHULAT LA KAMI NGA MAG YAKAN KA!" And said "kadto na gin tuturoy kana han imo amo". Those words made me cry a lot and I told my self that there's no need for me to hide, I must choose the path that God wants me to choose. And that night I choose to confess to my parents, and after I confess they only said "WARA KAMI HIT MAHIHIMO KUN DIIN KA DIDTO KAMI" and my mother said that she only sent that message to give ma a sign and tell me not to hide anything from them. Those are the words that I will never ever forget, I was very thankful because they accept me even if they are still struggling to hide the sadness that my sister cost.