I was looking at the night sky that time. I sat down in a slab bench just outside our home. I just had dinner. Alone with the cold night breeze swiftly blowing over me, this feeling was what I enjoyed best as an introvert. Gazing my eyes above the night sky, I felt security in seclusion. All of life’s unanswerable questions, my mind began to lay points and consider solutions. But this feeling was unlike before.
I wrote down my name in a piece of paper, “Jozille G. Leyble”. I can hardly do the cursive. I passed that piece of paper to my homeroom adviser and proceeded to my recess. Being a nine-year old that time, I was carefree. I grew up getting everything I wanted in spite of financial limitations. Being the eldest, all of life’s first blessings came to me. I can still remember when Nokia phone with antenna was still trending, my mother bought one for me causing my two siblings to hate me so much. After that phone was devalued, my second sibling became the heir of it and I got the new Nokia 3310. My parents, I can attest, did their best to show me love. They’ve supported my endeavors, even unnecessary habits like maintaining my Farmville account, they’ve provided for my weekly internet café finances for as much as they can. But I did not feel how blessed I was because I was extremely bullied at school. We had lockers back when I was in third grade and it became a hate mailbox to me. What do I know about life back then? I enjoyed sports and had lead my softball team to a city meet. Also, the school had a habit of sending me into inter-schools singing competitions from which, most of the time, I bring home the bacon. Moreover, I topped my classes and received multiple awards on schools’ press conferences. But none of it matters to them, because I was black.
“Pangit ka! Itom kaayo ka!” (You’re ugly! You’re black!).
Who would do effort to write this phrase on a stationary and insert it in my locker? That would be my friends. I don’t even know why I considered them as my friends. Maybe because they had imported Barbie dolls with limited edition dresses. I kept coming back at them just so I can play with what I haven’t, even if it requires me to be hurt every time. There was this one moment, while we were playing, when their judgments have reached my patience-limit. I can tolerate their words only when it’s about me. But this time, they’ve reached the topic about my mother, talking ignorantly about her limping. I became vulnerable unable to answer their questions. Back then, we did not know she had early onset of Alzheimer’s disease. So, each time my mom would attend to my homeroom meetings, I get embarrassed of bringing her around, fearing that my classmates would bring her up when they’re bullying me. I ran back at home and tried to report it to my father. But I only resorted to hiding and crying inside a cupboard because I was scared that he might think how soft I was to get hurt too easily.
A parental defense was the greatest revenge you can give to a foe. This counter-argument was much scarier than atomic bombs, “Sumbong tika sakung mama/papa!” (I will tell my mom/dad about this!). But I never applied this to my parents because I know that they will sermon me about how perfectly and wonderfully made I am. My parents are both serving in our family church. My father was a church deacon and my mother was a minister. All of life’s hurt they would advise me to not seek revenge because I need only to forgive as God had forgiven me. This wasn’t a convincing counterattack to my bullies because I didn’t understand it just yet.
As an alternative, I have used my insecurity as a driving force to avenge myself. I envied socially-stereotyped beautiful girls so much that I did my best to excel in my studies. At least, when I am appreciated of how academically good I was, I would forget how unbeautiful I was in the sight of society. I am a native Ilongga but was grown in a Visayan community. Our lineage had dark brown complexion, wavy thick-granuled hair, and diminutive height. I have had some friends in defense of calling me ‘morena’ but it wasn’t that comforting because I thought it was just a nicer synonym of ‘black’.
I didn’t understand why people in my circle of comfort would say that I am beautiful but people away from them says otherwise. After I graduated from elementary, my parents allowed me to cater on parlors. Rebonded hair was short-lived but my hidden cry for appreciation was satisfied. Year after year, I had to keep it a ritual to straighten my crowning glory. But I wasn’t satisfied anymore, so I resorted to entering into a relationship. It was overwhelming to get text messages everyday of how I was loved, but it didn’t last that long. Sure it did fill the small void in my heart, but the depth was shallow. I have learned that relationship wasn’t everything and love songs, I have proved, are not always right.
Most of the time, I spared a few minutes to hours for my melancholy. I would often recall a certain conversation I had in that day, rethinking what I should’ve said and what I shouldn’t have. But this time it was different. I was looking at the night sky that time. I sat down in a slab bench just outside our home. I just had dinner. Alone with the cold night breeze swiftly blowing over me, this feeling was what I enjoyed best as an introvert. Gazing my eyes above the night sky, I felt security in seclusion. All of life’s unanswerable questions, my mind began to lay points and consider solutions. I looked back to the stars again. They’re purposed to emit light for creatures below searching for hope. I saw the moon but I wasn’t as fascinated as I am when I stare at the farthest stars blinking teasingly. It made me realize that uncertainty drives me to reach for what is far, and the fascination for what was once far can be lost through nearness.
I can’t negotiate my role of being the breadwinner of the family. As the eldest, I am expected to graduate on time so I can suffice my siblings’ education. My entire relatives, even those who are relatively very far from me, have known that I am studying in UP. All of my life’s movement are being observed. It’s as if like I’m inside the PBB house, but only that I can’t evict people I dislike away from my life. Funny how the same people who has condemned me so much long ago are now trying to get close to me. I can still remember a bad memory of being accused of a crime I obviously did not commit. I was a minor then, my aunt authorized me her brand new laptop. It was the first time in my life to ever take hold of a costly material. I felt grateful because no one has ever entrusted me with so much. I went out to my friend’s house two days after the laptop was lend to me so I can install all necessary software. Not long later, after I gazed my eyes away from the laptop, it was gone. I reported it to the police officers but the chance of us finding the suspect is zero. I have done everything just to make them feel how sorry I was—I knelt, pleaded, and even staked my life in promise of returning it 100% after I graduate. But everything went chaotic. My aunt didn’t forgive me that moment, instead, she wailed on curses. I understood her side and it was the first time in my life that I have known what true humility is. But my father’s hot-temperedness heightened the chaos. He took the blame to my aunt on being naïve not to lay off an unintended loss. That drama made a gap between my family. What’s worse was the case was taken to court. They can’t do any legal arrests on me because I was a minor so the DSWD took over. I remembered being haunted by fear each time I see them after school for almost every week. They gave me tests to ensure that I was in a sane mind. After my father learned that I was secretly being observed by the DSWD, he warned me not to attend to them anymore because it was obvious that I am not in a stable condition after being traumatized. He feared that my condition might be taken against me. The case continued for a year and out of it, I didn’t do well in my studies anymore. I became second to the last in our class standing and I went to school only in the afternoons. In the height of that event, it was UPCAT examinations. I didn’t expect myself to pass after the whole ordeal happened. But me passing only proved that I was still sane. The case was closed after my parents settled it in behalf of me but it wasn’t closed to close-minded people who observed the entire episode.
And I thought bullying only exists when in gradeschool; I was wrong. Some people bring their gradeschool-heart with them until adulthood. I have heard them mandating a destiny for me—that I won’t be able to graduate because I’ll become a teenage mom soon. I proved them otherwise. But I wasn’t alone in doing the efforts; I’ve had the entire heaven giving me the amounted strength to push me forward.
I looked back to the stars. It’s been three years since I have stepped into this institution. Uncertainty and fascination drove me here. But nearness and familiarity over the campus has taken away my fascination. University of the Philippines was once a faraway star that is impossible to reach. Can I say now that I have reached so far? Not just yet. They tell me now that, being in a prestige university, I can look back to my bullies with eyebrows up. They say that I have attained the widest road to success and that I have the authority to look back at them and say, “Look at me now!” But I have realized, that my purpose is not success but a life of significance.
I can graduate from this institution, get jobs chase after me, and make a lot of money; anybody can do that. But not all iskoka desired to leave a legacy in the campus. Not everyone graduates with an undergrad behind saying, “That life has changed mine.” I want to be that kind of person. Each time that I see a soul lighten up after I minister to them, I receive a different kind of joy. It’s hard, sometimes, to live a life of integrity and righteousness especially when I am surrounded in an environment that tempts me to become otherwise. But thought that a soul might be looking at mine to draw encouragement, I compose myself and make up my mind to be determined to strive for purity. Although bullying has never left my side, I remember during a GE class when someone laughed at my “I love Jesus” Wi-Fi broadband name, I did not find satisfaction in glory anymore, nor in anyone’s approval. I found it in complete understanding of my existence.
I thank the stars above for the many souls it has lighted up; souls such as mine. As I look at them, I am challenged to still shine in spite of the threat given by inevitable darkness. What am I but a dust in the multiverse. The length of my life is uncertain but my deathbed is sure. All of my talents and skills, although being questioned and doubted, are nothing when I lay down on the ground. Criticism by a fellow human doesn’t hurt me anymore. At the end of the day, we would end up with the same fate of laying down on the same ground. I want to make sure that all that I have, is well-used not to build for my own name but to build the name of the Creator of the stars above. How generous is the Creator of the stars, to even make them for creatures below searching for hope?
My mother called on me, saying she’d lock up the door if I won’t get in. I looked at my phone; it’s already 10pm. I chanted, “Tomorrow again, stars. I know you will stay there and wait on me.”
