TRIGGER WARNING: This article contains information about suicide which may be triggering to survivors.
Part 1: The Discovery
I was born and raised in the Philippines, a country with a very prominent population of Roman Catholics. Religion is a big part of our culture and as Filipinos, we pride ourselves in the richness of our culture. Because of this faith, I always had a relatively conservative set of beliefs, especially about gay people. I was taught that it was only natural for people of the opposite sex to like each other. I was repulsed by the idea of same-sex attraction because of this “fact”. I thought gay people were abominations and destined for hell. But little did I know that I was talking about myself.
For a very long time when I was younger, I thought that I was incapable of developing feelings because I had never liked a guy the same way other girls would. I also never quite understood why my girl-friends were so caught up in boys. I did not understand the excitement nor the obsession. I did not experience the butterflies, the stomach-turning, the head-spinning–those things that every movie/book is always talking about. I had “crushes” on boys, but my feelings for them were very mediocre. It was as if one of my senses was not working and everyone around me was experiencing something that I could not experience. It was actually so bad to the point that I cried to my mom that I was going to end up alone because I truly did not like anyone.
But then I realized my “crushes” weren’t actually real crushes merely because they were boys. I was crushing hard on one of my girl-friends in the fifth grade and I actually did not realize it for a while because I thought that “crushes” could only be with people of the opposite sex. I’m not sure if it was a mixture of denial and cluelessness, but I only came to terms that I liked my friend about a year later. Someone who I really looked up to had come out and it made me question if I too was queer. I started becoming more exposed to social media and seeing a lot of gay icons. In the beginning, it didn’t quite click at first because I had my own stereotypes of the LGBTQ+ community and specifically about gay women. I had the image that a gay woman needed to look tomboyish and act masculine. Though my own gender expression is not entirely feminine, the image of gay women I saw in the media at the time was still not something I could relate with, therefore I found it difficult to associate myself with that image or label. But then, I discovered more people in the gay community on the internet who I connected with and it became clearer to me where I was on the spectrum of sexuality.
Eventually, I discovered that I definitely was not straight. And I was disappointed.
Part 2: The Denial
One does not have to be religious to want to deny their queerness. To not be straight in a heteronormative world is like asking for a societal death, especially in certain households of our country. It is not an easy life in general. But I was particularly in denial because I did not want to have to come to terms with my own religious beliefs and the reality of my sexuality. I had no idea how to find a common ground because I felt like I belonged in two communities that did not want to belong to each other. I was torn between two worlds. Eventually, I chose to deny my sexuality and focus on God. I was dead set on living my life in chastity and “carrying the burden” of my sin (my attraction to women). It worked for a little bit. I felt self-righteous and such, being a good Catholic and all. I even found myself in the hands of a conversion therapist in high school because I was desperate to “undo” my sexuality. She would ask me to rate my attraction to girls every week and she would punish or reward me accordingly depending on whether or not the number would rise or fall. I was under the impression that I could really do it–that I could stop really feeling what I was feeling but I couldn’t. I couldn’t help that I loved the girl who loved horses and not the guy who loved me.
It’s a little difficult to exist in a reality where you are constantly reminded of your own torment. When I was a sophomore in high school, I was still so repulsed by my own existence because of my religious beliefs that whenever I felt the slightest attraction to a girl, I would feel a shadow of shame looming over me. At this point, I had already accepted the truth of my sexuality but was still very much incapable of making my peace with it. My hate for myself was so intense that I wanted to take my own life. I thought to myself, “If I am going to hell anyway because I’m gay, why wait?”
In November of 2013, a 16-year-old Janine created a plan to end her life and wrote out a note to her friends and family. My plan was never fully carried out, obviously, but its failure made me realize the gravity of my actions and the toxicity of the thoughts that I had in my head. I was eventually put on the road to self-love and acceptance but not without the full support of those who loved me. I had to realize that in order to truly become better and to be on the road of recovery, I had to love every part of my identity even if that included my queerness.
Part 3: The Destination
What a lot of people don’t realize is that ‘coming out’ is a lifelong process especially in this heteronormative society where everyone assumes everyone’s straightness. So my “destination” was not actually the first time I came out, however, my destination was when I came to fully love every part of who I was. I just remember one day thinking about the roots of my attraction for girls. I thought back to my first real crush and thinking there was nothing ever wrong with that attraction and those that came after. It was not devilish. It was not ill-willed. My feelings were not feelings that stemmed from an “abomination”. All I wanted was to be special to her the same way I wanted her to be special to me. I wanted what everyone else wanted–a love that was unselfish, kind, giving, and real. I did not want to live with a lie. So one day, I just said fuck it.
It took me longer to find a balance between my faith and my sexuality, but I eventually found an in-between with my two most prominent identities. I just had to remind myself that I do not have to figure everything out all at once. I am still in a long-winding journey but nevertheless, I am happy to be in it with the love that I now have for myself. I have moments in this new part of my life, whether I’d be driving at home or just be walking around on campus, where I think–there was a chance of me not being here at this moment. But I am here and I am queer. And I am proud.