Oi, What a weekend it was. All as usual. Walked the Lil Bastard as soon as I woke up. Had breakfast. Gave the Lil Bastard a bath. Took my own shower. Went to the grocery with mom. Had lunch. Yoga for Life day, but this time, without the yoga. Yep, Yoga for Life without the yoga. Today was going to be different. We would be walking instead of yogaing. It was the 2010 LGBT Pride March.
The LGBT Pride March. LGBT stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual and transgender. I belong to the gay part, of course. I’m not lesbian, because I’m not female. I’m not bisexual because I’m not sexually attracted to females. And I’m not a transgender because I’m still all male body parts, no more, no less.
Gay. I’ve never been ashamed of being gay. Not even if most of the paminta population was up in arms declaring they were “bi” when they actually were really gay. Not even if and when the stereotypical gay was the parlorista, keribels. I’m gay, and proud of it. Bakla ako, may reklamo?
I was always out to prove that there are so many forms of being gay, and I was the discreet kind. I never dressed up in women’s clothes... okay fine, I did once when I was fielded to a beauty pageant by my college organization... but on a daily basis, I am still all man. And even if I was the “penetrated and perpetrated”, as my officemate would call it, I have never had the desire to sport a vagina or labia.
Unashamed, but I’ve never needed to shout out to the world that I am gay. As such, this year, I joined my first ever Pride March, as part of the Yoga for Life contingent.
Now Yoga for Life is in no way particularly targeted towards gays. But the reality is that most straight men would either underestimate the effort needed to do yoga, or cower at the possibility of them walking out of the class in a tantrum of I-can’t-do-this. Oi, men and their manhood. That being said, majority of those attending Yoga for Life are men... let me qualify that... men who have sex with men or MSM. A frustrating fact that the straight women who join us have to face. Hehehe.
That being said, whether Yoga for Life belongs in the Pride March is a resounding yes, if not just for the fact that both Yoga for Life and the gay community advocate acceptance and tolerance. Not to mention, this year, the Pride March was to be jointly celebrated with World AIDS Day.
So Saturday afternoon, instead of heading to Makati, I headed to Tomas Morato. This is the first time I remember that the Pride March was not being held in Manila, Malate being the unspoken home of the gays. And being a Quezon City boy, I was glad and proud that QC finally hosted the event. And I actually hope it steals it away from Manila altogether.
I was anxious, because I am never comfortable in crowds, not to mention the extra pretense of a gay crowd. Remember, we are the ones who brought scrutiny to the whole new level of okray. So, I was dressed in my usual comfortable clothes, purposely veering away from any attention-grabbing garb to keep myself under the radar. All I had was a backpack of essentials, plus our Yoga for Life banner in hand, as the cab dropped me along Morato.
I needed to wait a few minutes before the rest of the Yoga for Lifers got there, a few minutes of awkward paranoia, shielding myself both from the sun and from being noticed by others. Upon being prompted, I walked to the meeting place, ready to see my comfort zone.
Greetings and hugs aside, we stowed into a coffee place craving for some protection from the afternoon heat while waiting for the parade to start. Some more Yoga for Lifers trickled in one after the other. Soon we were about ten, thereabouts.
The sounds of percussion drew us out of the café, and we were ready to march loud and proud. Yogi Bear and Babe were there of course leading the pack, dressed in black outfits, a cross between sleek and sultry. The Yoga for Life banner. Some fuchsia balloons. And then the rest of us. Most of us were actually Pride virgins, which may have explained the mix of excitement and anxiety... but really, everyone was game, and we were just all out to have fun and proud to represent Yoga for Life. Then the parade began.
We walked. I spotted Carlos Celdran walking by us, and our Yogi Babe approached him to join us for a picture. He was game! The energy was high. We were following a float of trannies, and their music and antics were keeping the energy high. It was a great place in the parade to be.
We walked. Now I knew that media would cover the event and all. So was I scared of getting exposed as part of the Pride contingent? Not really. Being gay is the least of my issues. What if my mom sees my face on TV? Well, she knows I’m gay. Other people? So what?! My HIV status? Well it’s not like it’s tattooed on my forehead, is it?! I was just hoping I don’t get interviewed... else I might just faint. Hehe.
We walked. Shortly we encountered some guests, protesters to be exact. Waving bibles, disapproving condoms, and declaring “God did not make you gay”, it was laughable, especially since there were just three or four of them there. Old issues that for me were non-issues. Geesh, nothing better?
We walked. A lot of people came out to watch, from the residences and the buildings we passed. Our Yogi Babe was outrageous, approaching people encouraging them to do yoga poses for photo ops. From street kids and fab femmes, to policemen and titillating trannies, to hiphop dancers and construction workers, she was just out to get them! Oi, straight female wins over the gay contingent on this one. Hahaha!
We walked. It was hot. Scorching hot. Not gay friendly. Make-up melts, you know. And oiliness, they say, is next to ugliness. And sweatiness is next to confiscation of the gay license. Argh. But seeing everyone still all out in spite of that was great. It was good too that the streets along which the route ran were pretty wide, compared to Malate where I imagine the density of people would’ve added to the afternoon heat. QC rules!
We walked. Tomas Morato. Eugenio Lopez Drive. Panay Avenue. Timog Avenue. One last turn back to Tomas Morato, and we saw the home stretch. The protesters were back, the same ones we passed going the other way. Namaste. Peace, peace, peace. Some other city should host their march.
We walked. Oi, just a few more blocks... Finally, we made it back to the starting point, a good hour or so of walking under our belts. Geez, an hour?! All for pride. All for pride.
We got a breather before the program started as the darkness of the night set in. A few more Yoga for Lifers joined us, better late than never. As the show started, I think my energy went off with the setting sun. I was pooped! I couldn’t wait to rest. But we wanted to wait until they acknowledged the groups who participated in the event. As fate would have it, they made the announcements in alphabetical order. Yoga for Life? Oi, we were third to the last out of sixty groups. Oh well, we’ll take it.
After some part of the program, including speeches by Quezon City Mayor Herbert Bautista, Vice Mayor Joy Belmonte, both putting Quezon City behind the advocacy of HIV & AIDS awareness and LGBT rights, some musical numbers, a cameo by Journey frontman Arnel Pineda, the descent of seemingly godmother to the gays Risa Hontiveros, and a short segment allowing our Yogi Bear and Babe to talk about Yoga for Life, I split.
I had actually promised the hubby we’d meet, considering the proximity of the venue. But I had tipped him off after the walk about how tired I was already, and had already called our date off. But I thought I’d just push myself a little bit more, and ended up in a cab to his place. I was tired, sweaty, sticky and smelly, but still got the hugs, the kisses, dinner, a movie, and arms to fall asleep in. Mmm. Not a bad way to end the Pride weekend... Happy and Gay!
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Pride
Friday, July 09, 2010
The Threesome
There's a threesome happening this weekend.
A threesome of book launches, that is... tsk, tsk, tsk, you and your dirty mind.
From the (dirty?) minds of three renowned bloggers, come three tremendous titles of particularly pink prose.
Now these are the books to break the rules.
From McVie of The McVie Show fame comes The Wetbook: Stories from the Bathhouse, an informative but rather funny take on an otherwise raunchy topic: the subculture of subcultures of gay sex in the bathhouse setting.
From the one and only homo hero, Manila Gay Guy comes Dear Migs: Letters to Manila Gay Guy, a compilation of the most notable letters he received through his blog, which becomes an overwhelming picture of the diverse experiences and emotions of Filipino gay guys, and the people around them.
And last but not least, there’s E's The Chronicles of E, the personal story of a handsome young Pinoy (naks!) who discovers one day that he is infected with HIV, revealing first hand what experiences led him to such life-changing event, and how he currently lives as an HIV-positive gay guy in the Philippines.
Being in the blogging circle, I have met Manila Gay Guy once before, and McVie a couple of times. And then of course, E is practically my BFF. That should be enough reason to get me there.
What would keep me away? Of course, there’s that one little complication about this being another social event... where anti-social me should not really belong. But aside from that, the reality is that seeing the list of people comprising the publishing team, I suddenly realized that one name stood out. It stood out because it was familiar. Lo and behold, it was one of my classmates from high school. Ngarrrr.
So at this point, I’m being brave and saying Bahala na! It’s not like E is gonna be shouting Hoy pusit! as soon as I walk into the room. Or will he? Hahaha. But fine, I still plan on going. Will I be recognized? Will I be asked why I’m there? Will he wonder how I got to know E? BAHALA NA.
As readers of this blog, you are officially part of the blogging community, so you are invited to this momentous event. You’ll get to meet the three bloggers in person... and if you’re smart enough to pick me out of the crowd... hahaha... oh noooo!
The book launch will be tomorrow, July 10th, Saturday, from 4:00 - 7:00pm, at theROOM, Ground Floor, Unit 8802 Crowne 88 Condominium, 88 Panay Avenue, Quezon City. The launch will feature performances, cocktails, and a chance to meet the authors and have the books signed. The threesome of books will be available at the launch in a limited edition box set at PhP450. The books will also be sold individually.
The threesome of books is published by Grey Matter Publishing, and the launch is being held in partnership with The Safety Series, an HIV advocacy campaign.
See you there!
Saturday, October 31, 2009
Pyramid Scheme?
I think we all know the common but mistaken notion that HIV is a gay-only disease. Lately, even the Department of Health came out with statistics showing that HIV infections among MSMs, or men who have sex with men, have been increasing in the Philippines. Could it be the fact that Filipinas are more conservative that makes heterosexual transmissions less likely? Or could it just be that more homosexuals are getting tested than heterosexuals? Or it is just one complicated pyramid scheme?
Conservatism and unknown HIV statuses will be difficult to quantify. But since the philosopher and the scientist in me have been acting up again, I’m so tempted to try to figure out some idea as to why HIV is linked to homosexuals. So banking on pure logic, let me try to analyze.
For this analysis, let me zero in on sexual transmission. And for both heterosexual and homosexual acts, let me focus on insertive sex, meaning vaginal and anal sex, since these are considered higher risk acts as compared to oral sex and other forms. Let me also make the assumption that the people involved are not consciously protecting themselves from HIV. Also, let’s factor in the statistics that say that the possibility of an insertive partner passing the virus to a receptive one is ten times more likely as compared to the other way around.
Imagine starting out with one HIV-positive male at the top of a heterosexual pyramid. He has two choices, vaginal and anal sex. It may be safe to assume that vaginal sex is the more common practice, especially in a relatively conservative society such as that of the Philippines. And because of the potential of pregnancy, heterosexual encounters, unless done within the context of a relationship at least, will more likely be protected. As such, that lowers the chance of the top level male passing it on to the second level female, unless in cases of the less common unprotected anal sex or pregnancy-prone unprotected vaginal sex.
On the other hand, starting out with one HIV-positive male at the top of a homosexual pyramid, assumed in this case to be insertive as well, leaves him with no choice but anal sex. And with no risk of pregnancy, and the assumption of not consciously protecting themselves from HIV, he does not have any other reason to use protection. Let’s just say, if he really couldn’t stand the idea of a fudgy banana then he wouldn’t be go anywhere near that place.
So at this point, all factors considered, including the fact that anal sex is more risky because of the absence of natural lubrication in the anus versus that of the vagina, making the anus more prone to lacerations due to friction which then become possible sites for exchange of bodily fluids, it seems that there is a higher chance in the homosexual pyramid for the HIV to be passed to the second level as compared to that of the heterosexual pyramid.
From the second level of the heterosexual side, the infected female will always be a receptive partner, primarily because she has nothing to insert. Second level males on the homosexual pyramid, on the other hand, can be purely receptive, or able to swing between being a receptive and an insertive partner, more commonly termed as versatile. Thus, at minimum, the infected second level male on the homosexual side will be as efficient in transmitting the virus as an infected second level female on the heterosexual side. But, should the infected second level male on the homosexual side suddenly turn insertive, the chances then multiply ten times.
Am I making sense? Are you still with me? Or have you nosebled to death?
Anyways, if we go further down the pyramids, it should make sense that further transmission of HIV in the homosexual one will indeed be more likely. Could this analysis be a logical explanation to the higher risk of transmission of HIV among homosexuals? I don’t really know.
Now I’m not saying everyone should turn heterosexual to make it less likely to contract HIV. Nor am I saying that everyone should confine themselves to oral sex so they will be completely excluded from either of my pyramids. Because any which way you look at it, no matter how small of a risk a sex act is, it is still a risk. Even if you say that there’s only a one-in-a-million chance, I say you just might be that unlucky one. Comprende?
So, now tell me, are you willing to take that risk?
- republished from Positivism's Ka-Blog!
Sunday, July 12, 2009
The Stigma Enigma
I’ve said it enough times. I’ve felt it enough times. I’ve worried about it enough times. I think it’s safe to say that everyone does acknowledge that there is stigma that surrounds HIV in the Philippines.
But is there indeed an enigma behind this stigma?
Hell, just going to get tested, or even thinking of getting tested, you might not have realized you’ve experienced the stigma as well. What will they think of me?, Will they judge me?, Will they think I’m gay?, Will they think I’m promiscuous? and so on. It’s sad that you have to worry about things like that, rather than just acknowledge the importance of knowing one’s HIV status.
But I’ve come to realize that the stigma experienced by those living with HIV is not the same for each and everyone. Some have it bad, some have it worse. These variances along the stigma scale can stem from the smallest things, and certainly HIV being regarded as a gay disease is just one of those things.
Certainly, babies and children who most probably contracted it through modes other than sex have no need to be defensive. And women have absolutely no chance of being mistaken as a gay man, not unless they have masculine features or something. And either way, I don’t think it will be as detrimental to their reputation.
For the not-so-straight guys, it’s less of an issue, because granted, they... I, included... supposedly fit the bill, right? But then of course, there’s the whole spectrum of gayness that we need to deal with. From the bisexual to the gay, from the flamboyant to the discreet, and so on. It’s one thing to disclose that one is HIV-positive, and a whole other issue to disclose one’s sexual orientation.
Straight guys have it worst I believe, because they actually need to battle the stigma of HIV being a gay disease.
So far, here in the Philippines, faces and most stories that have embodied the HIV-positive have been women and homosexuals. And certainly, it must be this representation that fuels the stigma of HIV being an anything-but-straight-male virus. But seemingly, it must not help either that no HIV-positive straight guys are coming forward to represent themselves as faces of HIV.
So it seems like it’s a draw. An enigma. A classic example of a chicken-and-egg situation.
So which should come first? Can we just sit and wait for the stigma to fade? Or can this serve as a challenge for some Filipino man to be a real man and say “Hey, I’m straight, and I’m HIV-positive”?
- republished from Ka-Blog by Positivism
Sunday, May 17, 2009
Layo-genic
It’s odd. The guys who have been interested always seem to be in another continent, another country, or at least another group of islands. It’s like fate is playing a huge joke on me. A joke that’s not really that funny.
But it begs the question: Is it time to consider a long-distance relationship? Layo-genic ba ako?
It’s one thing to be a loner, a whole other thing to be ready to grow old alone, and a completely different story to give up on relationships altogether. The first and the second, I think I’m there. But to give up on relationships is just totally unlike me. I don’t learn my lesson that easily.
It was very unfortunate that the very time I was about to declare myself ready to get back onto the relationship bandwagon, was the same time I found out I was HIV-positive. And this readiness to get into a relationship isn’t like a switch that I can just turn on and off at a moment’s notice. I still continue to long to be in a relationship, in spite of HIV.
And this HIV thing hasn’t been all that bad, admittedly and surprisingly. I mean, yeah, I’ve been turned down, possibly used, led on, told white lies, left hanging, and dropped like a hot potato because of it. Sounds like torture for a pitiful pusit. But that’s all normal in the big scheme of human relationships, I guess. Let’s just say it’s a reassurance that things are still as they always were.
Neither is it the case that HIV is like a small penis that one needs to make up for in terms of other aspects like a huge personality, a mind-blowing performance, a great sense of humor or a big bike. It’s more like... uhm... a missing scrotum, or a third nipple maybe. It’s not usual, but is still something one can live with.
So on the other hand, I have also been fortunate enough to have met people who were willing to look past the pusitness of things. People, HIV-negative ones, who knew that one’s HIV status was just a single facet in the gem of what makes up a person.
So where are these guys? Why am I still single? Well, like I said, everything is still normal. So the relationship potentials of these guys are still under the mercy of chemistry, timing, and, as I’m beginning to realize repeatedly, distance.
I can’t say confidently that I’m good or bad at long-distance relationships. For me, it can go two ways: Absence-makes-the-heart-grow-fonder good, or Out-of-sight-out-of-mind bad. My first boyfriend actually worked as a Hosto in Japan, and I think I saw him off twice before we had our fallout, mostly because of the profession he was in. The reality of it was that I would always be in competition with his clients and customers.
My third boyfriend, meanwhile, needed to go to Canada for a time. And it was his time there that just wore our ties out, as he got really possessive and paranoid. I thought I was sane about it, but I just did not understand why I suddenly needed to always defend myself and pamper his insecurities, when it was his own decision to go. Eventually becoming a daily habit, it just tired me out too much and I broke it off even before he got back.
So I haven’t really had much success in the long-distance relationship arena to speak of. But noticeably, there are some couples who are able to handle relationships across oceans and seas, especially with the technology these days that makes keeping in touch a breeze. I still always thought LDRs were difficult, and unnecessary, considering the so-many-men-so-little-time mentality.
Granted, I still haven’t found it that easy to find guys who are open-minded enough about the HIV thing. They’re there, but it can feel like looking for a needle in a haystack sometimes. A treasure which, when found, carries a huge weight and millions of pogi-points to the guy’s advantage. And no one said the haystack would be easier to find than the needle it hides.
Now – if ever I do consider getting into a long-distance relationship – I want to make sure I’m not just going to do it because I’m kapit-sa-patalim already. It’s should not be like it’s a last ditch effort. I’m not going to settle for anything less. I want to be sure I’m doing it for the right reasons. And with the right person.
But what if? What if the guy for me just really wasn’t fated to be just steps, a jeepney-ride, or a bus-ride away? What if I wasn’t meant to have proximity with Mr. Right at my advantage? Am I indeed ready for a long-distance relationship? Layo-genic nga ba ako?
Wednesday, July 09, 2008
Panic
What is it about me? I’m trying so hard to be inconspicuous, but I’m like a flame to insects. Male insects at that. This does not help my cause. At all.
It seems to be a regular thing in my life. I get stared at, get signalled, get second looked, get smiled at, get talked to, get followed, get stalked. Everywhere. On the street, at the mall, at hotels, in restaurants, at work, in public restrooms, even at church.
Just this morning, I was riding innocently on the public bus on my way to work. And then I noticed this one guy seated several rows in front of me. He kept looking back, seemingly trying to make eye contact. And then he started moving. Usually, people would shift seats moving closer to the door as they approached their destination... to make it easier to get off, right? Be he was moving back, towards where I was seated. Good thing there was a woman with two kids sitting behind me. She must’ve helped stop his evil plans.
A couple of weeks ago, I had a panic moment on the way home from work. I was innocently walking home from the bus stop, with my usual quick stride. Then when I overtook another guy walking in front of me, I heard him say something like “Are you in a hurry?” At that point, I panicked. I was pretty sure it was me he was talking to. Who else would it be? I just kept walking. Then he said in a louder tone of voice, “Why are you in such a hurry?” I never looked back. Not until I was in front of the gate, and in the safe zone of our house.
So what is it about me? I’m hardly good looking.
In a country where all the beautiful people get facials and down their daily dose of glutathione to stay fair, I’m the typical Pinoy, son of the sun, tanned whether I like it or not. I just take baths and wash my face with soap. Nothing more.
I do not go to salons and have my hair “styled”. No gel, no mousse, no wax. I go to a barbershop and have my hair cut. I’ve needed to resort to a semi-kalbo look, literally semi-bald, to prepare myself for my destiny of a receding hairline and thinning hair. Okay, I’ll admit I do occasionally go for what’s called a hair spa, but only because I get a free body massage from my hot barber. Yum.
I do not go to extra lengths to dress up. I do not wear my collar up. I do not wear skinny jeans. I do not ride with the elf-shoe fashion. I do not layer clothes. Put me in a plain old shirt, shorts and flip flops any day.
I’m skinny. I do not work out. I am not gym fit. I have abs, but not by choice. I sweat a lot. I have thick lips. I need my teeth whitened.
So what is it anyway? It’s something, I don’t know what.
What sort of impression do strangers get from me? Is there something about me that says “I’m gay”? Do I give off some sort of man-to-man pheromone? Do I look horny? Or slutty? Do I look like a good lay? Or do I look easy to get?
Paranoia.
Thursday, June 05, 2008
Brain Overload
My Thursdays still have not managed to let my guard down. Again, it was H4 day. I was out of the house by 7:00 am, and a tricycle and a jeepney ride later, I reached the HIV ward of San Lazaro Hospital. It was just 8:00 in the morning, and lo and behold, I was first on the list!
I don't think they expected anyone that early, so the nurse just sat me down by the seats by the door of the building to take a breather, before they took down my vitals and while they finished their duties and reports.
After some time, more people poured in, and I gamely sat in their midst. It was not exactly in my comfort zone to mingle, but it was nice. I was finding it a bit hard to keep up, but I surprised myself by being comfortable in that crowd. There were around 20 of us there, and I got acquainted with a number of them, as they introduced me as "the new one".
I noticed a couple of them whip out what looked like white bank passbooks. I read what was written. Health Regimen Booklet. Hmmm, so I figure this is how their ARVs are monitored. I wasn't looking forward to getting one of my own though.
By 9:00 am, the doctors came. My usual doctor wasn't there. So the other doctor and a new one were on hand. They started off making rounds of the ward and checking on those confined. By about 9:30, they headed for the doctors' office and I was called in shortly.
She already had my folder on her desk, but still asked my patient code. She then flipped through another folder, where she was looking for my CD4 test results. Finding it and taking it from the folder, she sat down and looked at me sternly. She asked me some old questions again, like who knows, if I had a partner, and how I'm dealing. She reiterated the need to tell someone in the family. Rebriefing I guess.
At this point, she stared at my results, and asked me what I wanted to hear. Whether I wanted to hear the number flat out, or just if it was bad or good. I sort of giggled a bit at the question, and just said I wanted it all. She still held back a bit, looked at me, and said it was below 350. My mind raced at that point, but I kept a straight face. Normal is above 500, so it's not that good. But how far below 350? The critical 200 was below 350. Absolute zero was below 350, too. Tell me! Tell me!
Finally, she said it. My CD4 count is 343. Not entirely bad, but not good either. Almost midway between normal 500 and critical 200. She then said that she'd advise I get started on ARVs. But not before more counselling. And not before I have a support system behind me. Family preferably. Friends possibly. Anyone really. I said I was planning to tell my sister, and realized this development just made it more urgent. A lot to think about in the coming days.
The doctor then sent me off, but not before leaving me her mobile number, so I could contact her when I was ready to get counselling with whoever I chose.
I was honestly a bit defeated that I wasn't doing as well as I was feeling. I bid goodbye to my new friends out front before heading off back to work. I didn't even drop by the Social Hygiene Center. I was planning to just check in on Dra. Malou and the gang there, but suddenly didn't feel like it. Maybe another time, when I was less distracted.
I'm a bit glad that I have work to think about, and colleagues to laugh it up with and get stressed out by. But I won't be avoiding this for long. I'm left with a lot to think about right now. Head... hurts... hehehe.
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
Mabuhay!
May 28 is Philippine Flag Day. So in that light, let me tell you more about my beloved country.
The Republic of the Philippines is an archipelago in Southeast Asia. It is comprised of around 7,107 islands, depending on whether it's high or low tide, divided into 3 major island groups, 17 regions, 81 provinces, 136 cities, 1,494 municipalities and 41,995 barangays or villages. Whew. That's a lot.
The Philippines is a melting pot. We’re neither black nor white, we’re somewhere in between, the brown beings of the earth. We’re a melting pot of races, generations, cultures, religions, nationalities, dialects, traditions and sexualities.
I actually feel I'm lucky to be a gay man in the Philippines. I believe the general population is accepting of gays, as they can be encountered everywhere, as hairdressers, make-up artists, fashion designers, stand-up comedians, impersonators, entertainers, dancers, masseurs, girls' best friends, and lately, the trend has spread to customer service, especially call center agents.
I guess the sad part about it is that the stereotype of effeminacy still prevails, which causes the misuse of the word bisexual to encompass discreet gays here.
Homosexuals here are lucky, but to some extent. We are accepted, but not entirely celebrated. I mean I don't see any gay marriage laws taking effect any time soon. But other than the close-to-dying generation and the closed-minded catholic sector, we can live pretty freely with the rest of the normal Filipinos here.
Living with HIV in the Philippines is another thing. I’d say it’s still on the border of being taboo, just like contraception and safe sex. No one talks about it. I never knew or met anyone who had it before this. I’d only see people with HIV on the news, or in documentaries, and not that often either. It’s even still regarded by most as a gay disease. I think the mere fact that only one specific ward in one specific hospital caters especially to patients with HIV and AIDS might sum it all up. Are we being tucked away in a corner of the closet? I’m still trying to figure out for myself how it is really to be living here with HIV.
Although I do look purely Filipino, I am actually not,. My family tree will reveal traces of British, Panamanian, and Chinese in my mix. So I myself am a melting pot.
Regardless, I like it here. I’m not your typical Filipino whose ultimate dream is to go abroad and pursue so-called greener pastures, and eventually forget or deny that they were ever Filipinos.
On my sidebar, to express my pride in being Filipino, or ‘Pinoy for short, I now stamp this blog with the official “Proudly Pinoy” seal. Sa isip, sa salita, at sa gawa (By thoughts, by words and by actions…).
PinoyPoz is Filipino, and proud of it. Mabuhay!
