A backlog of blogs, a fine article on coming out

To say the least, a lot is happening. Even a hip-hop artist and a prominent current Olympic athlete have come out. There is story after story about Anderson Cooper coming out. And the silence is deafening about a Filipino billionaire who, like Anderson, has not had a well-kept secret, but unlike Anderson has never confirmed the truth of the not-well-kept secret.

In the midst of all this, I have been in and out of town for weddings several times this week. Rev. Ceejay Holy Union Agbayani and Father Regen Luna are not the only pastors being called on for same-sex weddings. The fever is spreading. They are still calling me, too, the one who brought Holy Union to the Philippines in 1991.

But, well, I have a backlog of blogs. I wake up in the night and scribble ideas for blogs, but then the next day I’m off to a wedding, and haven’t had time to get them out into cyberland and your inbox.

Almost all my blogs are about Sex-Positive Theology (SPT) as the solution to sex-negative theology (snt). The topics are varied, but the underlying unity is what Rizal referred to as “the friars are the root of all the Filipino problems.” Why is that true today? Because most of us, Catholic or not, have been tremendously (and negatively and often traumatically) affected by sex-negative theology (church teaching) which has spread into all aspects of religious, social, and legal affairs.

Of course the coming out story of a world famous journalist is a story because of the fears and internalized phobias that keep so many LGBT people in the closet. I have decided to start my blog catch-up with a brave local story about coming out.

First a quick personal story. I have told before and wil lprobably tell again the story of my teenage masturbation trauma, but I have not told the following story about my mama. People often ask me when I was last back to the United States. The answer is 1995. My mother was in a rest home. I visited her every day for two weeks. The night before I was to fly back to Manila, as I said goodbye to her, I sent my siblings to the car and had a talk with her.  She had long known that I was gay and had even had me and my partner stay with her. I will never forget, though, her words to me that night in 1995. “Richard, I understand. You have to do what is right for you. Even if your brothers and sisters do not understand, I understand.” The hug I gave her with tears that night was the last. She died at 92 the next year. 

No more fear
One son’s story of coming out
By: Jayce C. Perlas
Philippine Daily Inquirer 3:57 am | Saturday, July 7th, 2012

For years, I dreaded the day that my mom and the rest of my family would know or discover the real me.

The real gay me.

My case is not unusual. Nor is my family. Like most Filipino gay men, as I grew up and reached the marrying age, I attended family reunions less and less. The reason I was conveniently unavailable during such occasions was I grew sick and tired of being asked “Kailan ka mag-aasawa?” by older relatives. Trust me, I wanted to punch their faces every time they did that. Perhaps it was also my fault because during my “confused years,” I hinted about or brought a “girlfriend” or two to our house.

Double life

Years passed and I led an exciting but nonetheless sad “double life.” I worked like hell to achieve a lot in my career to eclipse the fact that at my age, I have yet to be married. I was 28 years old and, having reached the point in my life when rejection and financial independence were the least of my problems, I was ready to come out.

The problem was, my family was no longer in the country. They had all migrated. I could not tell them in person. I was the only one left here. While some sons go abroad to “ladlad,” I remained here, so as to be ableto express myself freely.

With my family scheduled to come home from the United States once again, I said to myself: It’s now or never.

It was hard to find a situation to conveniently come out. I took time off from work so I would have all the time in the world. After all, my family would be here for only two weeks.

As days passed, I started to panic. I even texted my friends to ask how I should do it since I was running out of time. “Help me, please! You all know I decided to come out to my mom but until now, I still could not tell her that her freaking eldest son is gay!” I texted them.

Solutions

They offered solutions, all right. Here were some of their replies:

“Luhod ka, sabay lunok ng bato at isigaw mo ang …DARNAAAAAA!!!!”

“I-send mo yung msg n pinadala mo s akin. Tapos sabhn mo: SORRY MA WRONG SEND!”

At last, the opportunity came. My mom asked me if I would like to invite somebody over for dinner because my brother was bringing along his Philippine-based girlfriend. I immediately said yes.

My mom was poker-faced when my partner walked to our dinner table that night. At one point, I thought my mom was conducting a job interview while she talked to my partner whom I introduced then as my “best friend.”

I thought, that was it, they knew, no need to come out anymore. Boy, was I wrong. My family adopted the “turn-the-other-way-let’s-not-talk-about-it” attitude. There was no way to know if they accepted my being gay, for they remained polite and refused to talk about it in the next few days. Perhaps they were in denial.

A friend of mine, Rossette, said, yes, they probably knew by now after what I did, but for my sake, I must tell my mom verbally and never assume anything.

I was back to square one.

Up until the time I drove my mom to the airport, I still hadn’t talked to her. We even spent over an hour at the airport ticket office because we had to make last-minute changes to her travel arrangements. Still, I was stumped.

Gamble

At the last possible moment just before she went in, I decided to take a gamble. I hugged her.

“Ma, these past two weeks, thank you for accepting me for who I really am,” I said.

She hugged me tighter as tears fell from her eyes. She told me that she was waiting for this moment for a long time. As a mom, she said, it hurt her to see that I was living a double life. It hurt her even more to see that I was living a lie. She wanted to ask me before but she said she wanted it to come from me, when I was ready.

“Son, I am your mom,” she said. “I would always love you whatever you are. Don’t you ever think otherwise.”

I never felt closer to my mom as I did then. I put my arm over her shoulder and we waited for her luggage to be ready.

With one last hug, she turned away as we bade each other goodbye. Until the day I die, I will never forget the tender way she looked at me from afar as she entered the departures door.

As I was driving home, I received a text message from her.“Can’t call because already inside plane. Turning off my phone after this. I LOVE YOU UNCONDITIONALLY. You take care, pangga.”

I was so happy. I could now live my life as I was meant to. No more fear.

The author is the general manager of Perlas Public Relations.