It is a Choice.

I was still euphoric over the SCOTUS pronouncement. A few weeks ago, Time Magazine discussed this. At that time, it still didn't seem clear how the justices would vote, even Justice Kennedy (who later penned that moving statement). My timeline was filling up with rainbows all over.

It's not even the first country to declare same-sex marriage legal. But somehow, decisions in the US will always carry that much weight, by sheer economic power at the very least. Anyway, it carried much weight in my mind. I could just imagine how joyous every LGBT must been feeling!

Not too fast. Not everyone. Soon enough, I would read dissenting opinion. Reading these from outright gay-hating fanatics was of no surprise, of course. But eventually, reading a friend, a friend like me, gay, and his post of negativity started to put some dark clouds in my rainbow-filled sky. Eventually, as much as people were celebrating the decision, others felt that they needed to be just as loud about their feelings of disgust, of outrage.

Looking at my other, alter-ego 'professional' FB profile, I read more negative feelings and reactions, many of them from my friends. I could feel some vomit rising from my gut.

The feeling of hate and disgust over the negative, bigoted statements is real. That is part of my humanity. But I didn't want to stoke further anger so I chose to post something more benign - a sadness over the negativity I have been reading, in between the rainbows. Some were quick to tell me to 'unfriend'. I was tempted.

But I felt there was something inherently unsettling if I just immediately 'unfriend' them. Have they really become 'unfriends' because they chose to believe otherwise? Have they suddenly become mean to me because of that negative post or that hateful comment? Where have all the years of friendship, of genuine, reciprocal concern gone? Has that changed because they felt differently, even if strongly, from mine?

No, I cannot reduce their humanity into one negative post or comment. I cannot erase the friendship because of that difference. Now, if they choose to change their attitude and behavior towards me because we belong on opposite sides of a fence, then I cannot do anything about that. But until they do, I will not allow myself to hate these friends of mine just because their opinion differs.

It is a choice I have to make. I will fight the seemingly overwhelming anger I have started to feel towards them as I read their comments. I will choose to react differently and just let that pass. I make this choice because ultimately, it will build my character. Not letting my emotions 'click' for me will always be better for me.


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SAHC: 1st Sem Confusion

My elder sister was one year ahead of me in UP. During the first days or even weeks of school, I'd go to their tambayan to hang out and eat my baon. I thought that was the most natural thing to do. Be friends with her friends. After a few days she told me, in no uncertain terms, that I should find my own friends. And stop hanging out with her and her barkada.

Ouch. After having been quite popular in high school, I was suddenly this nobody, this invisible freshman, one of thousands. Since I wasn't comfortable with my blockmates yet, I was forced to roam Palma Hall alone.

But that didn't last. I resolved to start befriending my blockmates. And soon, I was hanging out with some of them, mostly those from the provinces. We all felt quite alone and we needed company. Beyond them, too, the block started to gel as one group. Though there were existing cliques, grouped by school, the shared experience of a boring Philosophy class, a challenging Botany course, and the ones in between (Psychology, English, Humanities) made it easy for us from such disparate backgrounds to stop being strangers.

We also decided to participate in those interblock contests. There were the volleyball and basketball competitions, both of which I avoided. But I joined the team in the Quiz bee (feeling brainy enough). More opportunities to bond as a block. And for me, I started to socialize more and my circle grew larger.

But I also started to turn my attention to the pretty ones in class. Psychology in UP always attracts some very pretty girls. I was determined to make ligaw. I wanted to know if I could do it: if I could have a girlfriend. And if it would silence the gay voice inside. I chose this sweet girl, cute and petite. Always in a skirt. She was always so nice to me anyway.

So torpe me did it the only way I knew how. I wrote her a letter. (Oh my, just thinking about that makes me cringe.) I professed my intention to get to know her better. (Ugh.) Thankfully, she turned me down in her sweet, sweet way. "I believe we are better off as friends." But though I still had a bruised ego, I felt my question was answered. No, I can't do it. I shouldn't do it. It's God's way of telling me that I should be myself, be my gay self. That first semester ended with more friends and some measure of peace.



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SAHC: Unang Yugto: Iskolar ng Bayan

I can't recall how I spent the summer after graduating from high school. All I remember is how excited and anxious I was about entering UP, my first taste of co-education after having spent at least 8 years in an all-male school. Very few of the batch was going to UP. The barkada was spread out - Ateneo, De La Salle, UST, UE, Mapua. I was going to this big university with virtually no friends. Afraid.

The much-talked about 'medical examination' at the infirmary was another source of anxiety. We were all going to be stripped naked. It both scared and delighted me. I just hoped that I would be with some interesting co-examinees.

But during the day itself, there was hardly any time to even check out the other students. I was nervous. We stripped down to our underwear. And we exposed our genitalia, and our rectal area only in front of the doctor. Much ado about nothing.

My first subject on the first day of school was Psychology. We were a block of about 20 freshmen. I quickly checked out my classmates. There were just two cuties. One of them was the cousin of a cousin. That one got crossed out immediately. The other one was Chinese, and borderline nerd. That got crossed out, too. The block was not going to be anything inspiring.

But on a deeper level, I made a decision to hide my sexuality. I wanted to give myself a shot at being straight. A fresh start. Maybe the presence of females as classmates would 'stimulate' my straight hormones. I went back to the closet in my first semester at UP.



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Transubstantiation

Previously, a friend asked me if I actually believed that the host turns into the body of Jesus at consecration leading to communion. I didn't know how to reply. Years of school catechism (or my understanding of it) has ingrained in me the concept that transubstantiation happens, matter of factly. The consecrated host I receive is His Body. No questions asked. I even recall viewing photos previously showing a bloody host on a communicant's tongue. I think it was part of the photos of some miracle, maybe related to Padre Pio. But I'm not sure. Those photos were supposed to reinforce the transubstantiation that actually happens.

As a Catholic, am I supposed to believe that it really happens?

I thought I was. Yet as I searched my heart, I knew that I swallow a host that symbolizes his body, his death offered for my sins. It was not going to turn into his flesh. Am I not being true to my Catholic faith by believing in this?

Now I think that my faith does not dictate believing in transubstantiation. I pondered on the events of the Last Supper. As Jesus was instituting the Sacrament, he did not turn that bread into his own flesh. For one thing, he was still alive and well. Even Jesus himself was raising that bread and breaking it as a symbol of his impending death and sacrifice. And as I eat the bread or the host, and consider it as His Body, I am reminded of this ultimate loving sacrifice. "Do It In Memory Of Me.", he commands.

I don't think I am less of a Catholic because this is what I believe in. I continue to remember His Death and His Victory over death and sin every time I hear mass. And that memory serves to reinforce my resolve to be a better human being - loving, caring and real.


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