“Mahirap ba maging bakla?” I asked. It was a harmless question but it cut through her anyway. Her. What a strange pronoun to use. It’s not one I would like to use but JR, who now goes by the name of June, insists on it.
“It depends. Alam mo naman, maraming klase ng bading.” The others looked at her as though she just told us the world was square and not round. “Maraming marami! Kasing dami ng kulay sa pinaka-malaking box ng Crayola! And together, we all form a magical rainbow.”
“Typical,” I thought to myself. “Lacing truth with humor so it doesn’t seem so blunt.”
“Di niyo ba alam yun? Maraming klase ng bading.” June began. “May bading na parlorista, may bading na effem. ‘Yan yung typical na maingay, walang time kung makapag-pulbo at minsan nagda-damit babae. ‘Yung parating naka-pambabae, draggar. Merong nagpapaka-lalake na walang tigil mag-gym. ‘Yun yung tipong nambabarurot sa kama! Merong mataba. May specific market naman ‘yan. Merong payat. May matanda. May bata. Siguro depende yan sa klase ng kabaklaan mo. Sa Pilipinas, mas madali maging bakla kung pa-discreet ka. Straight acting daw eh nakakabahing naman ang pagka-paminta nila.”
“How ironic,” a friend chimed in. I was grateful she broke the silence. Our more conservative friends were still in shock.
“For a lifestyle born out of diversity and known for open-mindedness, you people sure do engage in a lot of stereotypes.”
Photo Credit: La mala educación
Cherry Lips (Go Baby Go!)