UPLB Writers’ Club
© Copyright 2024
All rights reserved No part of this literary zine may be used, reproduced, and sold in any manner.
For more information, reach out to:
UPLB WRITERS' CLUB
Email: writersclubuplb@up edu ph
Facebook: facebook.com/uplbwritersclub
Instagram: @uplbwritersclub
Twitter: @uplbwritersclub
Featuring Works by:
Zaian Perez
Martha Medina
Abel Mejico
Rods Cortez
Teresa Mikaela Hilis
Felise Calza
Aaron Gabriel Mendoza
Layout and Design by:
Felise Calza
Aming mata’y nagtagpo
Ako at ang salamin
Siyang sa kabila na nakangiti
Mantsa sa labing nakadidiri
Aming tinginang malamig
Kuskos at punas ng bibig
Ang “sarili”, napapikit
Tikim ng labi, mapait
Aming puso’y nagtagpo
Siyang guguho ng mundo
Labing pinagkait sa puso
Lasang tunay, tugma, at totoo
Aming mundong minamaliit
Nakaduyan sa aming init
Mantsang nakakaakit
Sa labi nakakapit
Aming mata’y nagtagpo
Ako at ang salamin
Aming sarili, ‘di mapagkaiba
Nakangiti, parehas may mantsa
Mantsang totoo, at mantsang tunay
Mantsang baliko, at mantsang makulay
Mantsang hindi na muli magpapaapi
Mantsang bahaghari, ipagmamalaki
a whisper.
it comes in the form of hushed calls as the sun starts to rise, free from the spotlight of the day, from the ears of judgment. miles away, and yet, our breaths synchronize as if it’s the most natural thing on earth they say it isn’t, but it is a ghost on my pillow, a distant call to my heart we succumb to sleep at the same time, and nobody knows, but i wake up with contentment anyway, like this is the comfort i’ve always known and cherished
it’s a bunch of songs i’ve gathered with the thought of you words that lace themselves onto each other with something to say, echoing what i’ve yet to say, or what i’ve yet to admit feelings between the lines and rhythms and beats this is what i feel, this is how you take up my mind in the midst of my mundane i’ll be walking down some street without a destination in mind, i’ll hear that tune, and i’ll think of you. how i’d like to come home to you, one day.
today, we talk about love. and we drone on and on about what it means to love and to be loved, how our brains comprehend such emotions. the dopamine. the oxytocin. you are easy to me you are the easiest equation there is, and sometimes, my conscience proves science wrong it is my heart that speaks your name, not my lips, nor my head
it is ironic a love like ours it’s hard to understand, you see it’s decades worth of being damned, of silence, of developing a strange familiarity to the dark it is a secret today, we n, greeting the world with uncontested pride ear and yet, i choose to love like this
e of love i choose to paint with. our love is ajar doors and tinted windows. i am not afraid of se. shame has never been my friend, and yet. ht strikes and we decide to take a drive down the ts pass us by, i hold your hand from the seat next always has been but you hold it with conviction ouch it tells me: i am here we are here the nd love, and love, and the way you link your
itanggi
man man
niya
ibigin
man man
ang ang ang ang ang
nila niya nila katotohanan katotohanan
puso puso
puso puso
natin mo mo
walang walang walang
totoo mas mas totoo nakatataas
pa pa sa pag-ibig . natin
Anatomi a y (ay n s ken, 2024) a o
How come I entrusted my soul to the writings on the wall that promises forever that begs to decipher that which simmers ignorance and arrogance all at once?
How come, when I refused to show promise under the sheets you swore to comprehend just to wait brusquely pining away, broodingly, in the cycle of concupiscence How come, when I bore my feet to the cold, hard ground begrudgingly insisting my asexuality, you dealt with liquid courage for the sake of humiliating every part of my being?
To say that I died is such a minute part of the grandeur that is to bury a soul in its fragility I witnessed the grand ceremony of my love's murder and tossed rotten flowers at my descending casket to take a word to the wise from an avowed therapist You have taught me that your heart beats in the rhythm I could never match as mine beats in a pattern too bizarre for your comfort too rapid, too sluggish You have asked a few times, am I okay? Am i unwell?
I contend for I am not an illness that needs to be cured
I am not a sliver of violence that needs to be quelled I am not a mistake that needs to be rectified
A series of misgivings have turned you into an unfamiliar silhouette and I beg you to retire in the cradle of our flowerbed
It was surprising how difficult accomplishing one simple task was
And yet here Eleanor stood shaking; hunched over the porcelain sink with puffy, bloodshot eyes, severely dehydrated as all the waterworks had expelled themselves through their tears. Even through their trembling, the electric hum of the razor had dulled, passing the point where her scalp was Eleanor glanced below to peek at their handiwork as strands of fried hair clumped by sink and bathroom tiles
The entire ritual was a point of nausea: like her organs had all conspired to commit some internal mutiny, compressing their mass upon her chest, rendering her heart hopelessly claustrophobic Indeed, shaving her head off that one fateful day felt like a leap of faith, a winning impulse against the vitriol that was her pastor father’s nagging, echoing through the bathroom door as if someone had projected a speaker by the other room
While her predicament proved unbearable, Eleanor decided a worse fate was to keep on masquerading as someone she was not.
And so she soldiered on, as if accumulated rage put her on autopilot Her daze set her in flurry of her own history: a shameless tomboy in her primary years All good A phase she will outgrow, her father declared Her obedience led her to deviate from her awkward comfort in sporty pursuits
Feeling uncomfortable in donning knee-length dresses and vanilla perfume? It’s fine, I’ll grow into it soon enough
Realizing she felt comfortable forming friendships with laidback boys and tomboyish girls who weren’t alike with the high-maintenance, hyperfeminine cliques in high school? Eh, it happens. Doesn’t make me special.
Dismissiveness towards your own individuality felt normal until you realize how much you’ve molded yourself to cater to others, and not to your self
The day He began making himself known, Eleanor had been figuring out some aspects of herself as well
Dimly lit parties, alcohol-induced consciousness ignited som of lips parting from physical exchanges Touches that were and electric Instead, Eleanor felt underwhelmed, duped, even A non-existent chemistry with a cute boy she had sworn she liked (or perhaps, felt compelled to like?)
But the time He thrived?
Eleanor had remembered being nestled under a willow tree not too far from the church office Her, no his– dear friend had tagged along to save him from the monotony of a summer job He had recalled an affinity for plaid jackets and silver piercings then, much to the dismay of her father
She tagged along, head nestled on Eleanor’s lap She looked too at peace for Eleanor to even bother adjusting his position Somehow, amid their smooth camaraderie that summer, this event ended through ‘You’re just like a guy sometimes, anyone ever told you that?’
Then the chaste, sweet kisses again and again. It tasted of floral, tart strawberry. Eleanor could not get enough.
Except of course, when a pastor took notice of them, they had to break apart.
It has been years since, and a plethora of circumstances have riddled their way into his life The girl under the willow tree was ancient history now, transfixed in the arms of her boyfriend of seven years But more hearts found their way of declaring themselves to him, all in their delightfully unexpected ways
But today, today is the day He will truly allow himself to begin Through self-reinvention Through reconstructing himself to the person they forbade themselves from being
Through the frenzy of reverie, it hadn’t occured to him that the razor had plowed through their scalp, only remnants of a buzz cut remaining.
First act of reclaiming: Done Now a true pillar of identity: a name Perhaps, Adam? An irony worthy of a chuckle, especially when he tells his father No Sam? Michael, from the archangel (Gods, no)
In time, he’ll think of the one that sounds right But it is on this day, he knew, there was no going back from who he wanted to become
No matter how much the world reminds trans women that they are supposed to be men, transgender women ARE women Period More importantly, as trans women, I honestly think we should be commended for living our truest lives and enacting our dreams and aspirations to be the women we are destined to be Despite all the tests we face every single day just to prove our womanhood to society, we are holding out and enduring all the blood, sweat, and tears we shed just so we can be our most authentic selves and be the happiest we can about ourselves Due to these daily tests and challenges we experience, I honestly think we are just as womanly as any other woman could be In our own right and by our own means, of course
Born as boys, we, trans women, were born in the wrong bodies. We never claimed to be born biologically as women, nor do we claim to be able to perform the reproductive functions of able-bodied cisgender women. However, in mind, soul, personality, identity, and even place in society, we have slowly proven ourselves to be the same as our cis counterparts We are still proving ourselves even more today and in the future Furthermore, just like any other woman, we have done so much to stand our ground and prove our rights Our cis women counterparts had achieved so many feats in society to enable us to stand equally beside men and fight for our rights, and we have fought just as much in proving our own identities and places in society our womanhood Despite so many similarities in appearances, attitudes, behavior, personalities, cognition, even fashion, style, interests, and many many more, trans women are really so much different from ciswomen From the circumstances since birth, it is no wonder why we, women, are segregated from each other, and worse, pitted against each other and discriminated against each other.
For instance, unlike cisgender women who were born in the right bodies, we, transgender women were not Right from the start, they grew up as girls, while we had to grow up as boys Some of us trans women did not know right from the start that we were girls trapped in a boy’s body, while others knew right from the start that they were not supposed to be who they were As a result, many of us felt lost, empty, and incomplete
Unlike cis women, we had to find our identities just so we could know and eventually live our most genuine selves We found ourselves in different ways, times, and circumstances in our lives, with each trans individual having their own story of personal discovery. What was common among us is that in the way we used to live, we learned that we had differences from our peers, whether in interests, passion, behaviors, expression, heart, or even soul. From here, we are not even sure yet if we are exactly what we found. We had to contemplate a lot about ourselves just to find the correct “label,” “lifestyle,” and identity we can assume and this probably took a lot of time and effort, at least for me
Unlike cis women, once we find our genuine selves, we have the need to express ourselves and come out This is something that most of us feel obligated to do even if it’s not really necessary Why do we even have the need to tell others about how we identify and want to become when we can simply just act on them and carry on? To be fair, it’s not like I see it as pointless though I just find it absurd that it has become almost a necessity for someone to fully transition and realize themselves. I do appreciate the fact that it allows for healthy communication, transparency, and clarity for the people around us, and even ourselves. What matters though is that we do it when we’re ready, somehow, in some way, and in some time we choose. When we’re ready enough to “come out” of the closet and be the prettiest superstar we could ever be
Unlike cis women, once we come out and actually start to realize our identity, it has become something we have to fight for By choosing to be true to ourselves, which confusingly goes against the principles of society when it should rather affirm it, we become more vulnerable to discrimination and oppression The influence of the patriarchy is something we can not always deny, especially for us trans women who are victims of the patriarchy in multiple ways: as a woman, as a queer person, and specifically as a trans person. Discrimination and oppression are so ubiquitous that they can be found in multiple facets of our lives, may it be in our schools, peer groups, religious organizations, and even families. This type of womanhood we face is distinct to us, the experiences of a queer trans woman, in contrast to most women and queer people in our respective communities.
Unlike cis women, we are also faced with the burden to prove our womanhood, sometimes even resented with the benefit of the doubt which should not even exist in the first place We are all unfortunate victims of circumstances that are incongruent with our genuine selves All we want is to be true to ourselves and live our most authentic lives, yet just to be ourselves in the society we operate in, we have to pass society’s multiple series of tests, whether explicit or implicit, of womanhood just to earn the bare minimum of acceptance, or worse, meager tolerance
Unlike cis women, we are women with severe social disadvantages; we are denied access to what they, cis women, may mostly take for granted. Such is the social curriculum prescribed by society in schools, peers, groups, communities, and families. This social learning provides the prescribed conduct and expectations for growing up girls, and trans women have to work overtime just to catch up, to learn how women are supposed to be, and to act since they were robbed of their youth as the girls and women they could’ve been And despite this lack of crucial development in their lives, they are required to be a strong woman, sister, daughter, mother, wife, and friend, among many other roles they have in society
These, on top of the fact that, unlike cis women, we do not deny how we spent so much time in depression as we mourn for how we had been, and grieve for what we could’ve been born as, and how we have no means to correct our past, but rather just to adapt and mitigate for the future. If only we had the luxury and power to alter destiny and throw back time, I am sure that most of us would choose to be born as cisgender women and live as a girl, free from the struggles of severely oppressed trans individuals but it’s not like that choice exists I am also very sure that most of us, rather, just deal with reality as it is as what we can really do is accept things the way they are and make the most out of everything as we attempt to live our lives to the truest we can
How unfortunate it is that reality is indeed cruel for women like us, when all we want is to be viewed, treated, and respected as women. We never have claimed to be the same as biologically born cis women: we could never have ovaries, a uterus, and their reproductive functions at least not yet at the moment However, is it really those meager body parts that determine what really is a woman? Surely, they may define what a female is, but to define a complex idea that is a woman is a more difficult and nuanced feat A woman is someone who nurtures, cares, and empathizes with people Despite her softness and sentimentality, she can fight for herself and her loved ones She is strong, despite how many people tower over her as they try to drag her down These are what I think of when we talk about women, and no different are us, trans women We have worked so much to be just as good, socially and physically functional, or as feminine as any other women, even biologically born women, in today’s society. Sure, we may have yet to cover the reproductive aspects, but we have developed, adapted, and assumed womanhood so much that we have covered most of what it consists to be a woman. A woman is more than her body parts and her reproductive functions, and we have very much replicated her role in society and its various parts Even for cis women like them, whether they admit it or not, we are catching up to their craft and learning what they may easily ignore as biological women free from oppression experienced by trans individuals: they never had to defend or prove themselves as a woman as society views them as such no matter what Meanwhile, we trans women have to master our craft of assumption and living, manage our expressions and behavior, prove our places as women, maintain and solidify our identities as women, and live our truths as ourselves even if the world attempts to destroy us and remind us that we’re supposed to be men when we are absolutely not
No matter what people say, I will always stand by my ground that trans women are women, since then until now, and will always be women, in our own rights. We have done so much to be women, and we are doing the most work to prove we’re just as womanly as any other woman today despite our physical and social handicaps and disadvantages. At the end of the day, we’re not simply just living as trans women and doing our identities. Rather, we are assuming the gender we’re supposed to be, living our most authentic selves, and realizing the woman we are destined to be Never ever let anyone stop you from being the best woman you could ever be, my beloved sisters! xoxo
-20240618
“Hindi na ako babalik sa bahay namin!”
Sumayaw ang bida hab huling linya na panapos
11:50 pm, Friday
Katahimikan.
Dilim
Kuryente! Kuryente?
Okay, Ano nang gagawin? . . . Ah!
Oras na naman para mag-isip-isip
Kakatapos ko lang panoorin kanina ang pelikula gamit ang Netflix account na mage-expired na kung hindi ako makakapagbayad sa katapusan. Nakakatawa na lahat ata ng pelikulang pinapanood ko, may bading na matapang at palaban In short, rebelde.
Lumayas kasi hindi tanggap ng magulang ang kanilang pagkakakilanlan. Hindi suportado sa pangarap kaya ini-struggle ito ng mag-isa
Huh? Ang alin?
-katapos ko lang manood at dapat nagpapahinga ako sa kama pero kung ano anong boses ang naririnig ko. Parang may mga bubble speech sa itaas ng pader na dapat habulin ng tingin bago maglaho
“Bading!” “Tibo!” “Bayot!”
Tila mga salitang akala ng iba ay isang atake o panlalait sa isang tao. Sige, Gamitin niyo pa para ma-normalize!
“Eh ano naman?”
Nakapagtapos ka?
Bakla ka naman!
Salot, panggatong sa impyerno!
Ano naman kung binigay mo lahat ng needs ng tumatanda mong magulang?
Mabibigyan mo ba sila ng apo?
Tibo ka kasi!
Pamilyar
Parang linyahan lang ng pamilya ko at pamilya ng bawat bading sa mundo
Nalaman lang na hindi straight, parang burado na lahat ng magagandang ginawa mo sa mundo. Para saan ang dugo’t pawis na pinagpaguran para makuha ang achievements at ambag sa family and society?
. Nga naman, sino ba kasing nagdesisyon sa ambagan na yan!
12:00 am, Saturday
“Happy Birthday, Bading!”
“Bading kang pinagpala sa lahat!
“Cine-celebrate ng sangkabaklaan ang pagkasilang mo!”
“Hail the Modern Jesus!”
“Mothered like the Virgin Mary!” -
“Happy Pride Month din, beh!”
Ang ingay ng notifs sa flashlight ko Este Cellphone Buti na lang maikli attention span ko at naputol pag-iisip ko
Infairness
Naramdaman ko yung warmth Una ata `to
“Happy Birthday, Anak. Uwi ka na, please? Miss ka na ni Mama.”
Teka lang naman, kaka–ngiti lang nung tao oh!
“Hindi mo ba kami mahal, Anak?”
A. B. C.
Tangina may pop quiz nanaman sa utak ko sa anong ire-reply!
Pagmamahal, Magmamahal, at Nagmamahal.
Ang hindi nila alam na nabubuhay ako para magmahal Magmahal hindi dahil may hinihinging kapalit o kaya naman ay dahil hindi nararapat mahalin pabalik.
Nagmamahal kasi
Natural.
Walang halong kemikal.
Puro, no preservatives added!
Hindi desisyon, kung hindi ay nakaugat sa pagkatao…
“Thank you, Ma! Nakauwi na po ako. Dito.”
Pagkatapos mag-reply kay Mama at pinagtatadtad ng reacts ang message ng kaibigan ay nilibot ko ang flashlight sa kwarto Tumayo na din ako para mag inhale exhale. Sumayaw sayaw din ako na parang tanga kasi nakaka activate daw yun endorphins
Syempre, araw ko pa rin naman ito ‘ no!
Hay, hindi ko pa kasi na-asikaso yung mga gamit ko sa bagong apartment. Inuna ko pa kasi manood ng pelikula Syempre! kailangan ko din ng unting validation na hindi isolated case ito. Normal.
Sa wakas, malaya
“tunay mong kulay ibalandra't wagayway ganda mong taglay”
The UPLB Writers' Club is a non-profit organization of young writers and literature enthusiasts based at the University of the Philippines, Los Baños. Founded in the 1970s, the organization has since then marshaled its efforts to promote meaningful and socially relevant literature inside and outside the university.