“Are you going to stay there?”

It’s like having a balance (scale) in your head, rocking back and forth. You try to weigh both sides.

On the one side…

It feels really nice to be proud of your accomplishments without being called “mayabang.” A place where you get to tell people you love your job and be told “You deserve it and you worked hard for it!” Instead of “suwerte lang yan.”

It feels like true love being in an environment where a woman can proudly refer to her “wife” or “girlfriend,” or a man his “husband” or “boyfriend”, instead of feeling awkward and hearing “yung kinakasama niya.”


It is endearing that anyone can confidently walk around in a sports bra, with rolls and cleavages out, without someone commenting, “ay grabe confidence ni ate” or “kulang sa atensyon.”

It is mind-blowing that I can apply for student loans and grants so fcking easily—online. And that I can walk into a clinic, any clinic, and just show my government health card, and not being asked “ay, may private health insurance po ba tayo?”

It is wonderfully liberating that there is a wide spectrum of freedom for both men and women to have choices with their own bodies and their own beliefs; to be encouraged to think on your own without a man in a white robe or a woman with a rosary guilting you “kasalanan yan sa Diyos!” or “hindi ganyan kumilos ang babae!” To be able to say “I support divorce, sex education and abortion” and being asked “why” instead of being judged and told “bawal yan sa simbahan.”

…

But then, someone sends you a photo of your parents and you see them on video calls. You see the added lines on their faces. The people who raised you, loved you, watched you grow up are now growing old. So your heart breaks. It weighs tons as you realize: I’m here, and I’m not there.

Then all the good things you thought of earlier suddenly weigh a lot less, and the balance starts rocking back and forth again.