Pink dresses, frilled clothing, and porcelain dolls along with their kitchen sets.
These are only some of the elements I grew up with as the youngest daughter of 6 children with a 17-year age gap. I grew up in a family that strongly believed in gender norms.
My parents did their best to surround me with all things feminine.
Nothing wrong with that- I certainly enjoy indulging in my femininity yet also feel no guilt when I enjoy hobbies suggested to cater to the masculine audience. I've always struggled to understand why our society labels certain themes or assigns them to be catered to male or female audiences. Although the internet and the majority of consumers try their best to eliminate such expectations. I don't wish to define myself by my interests or hobbies. I don't wish to become a woman loosely based on the girl I mourn. But what makes me a woman? What made the girl from my past evolve?
The idea of my girlhood and womanhood being defined by other people does not humor me. Even I- myself can't clearly define the boundary in which I've faced and accepted womanhood.
I question whether I've finished my childhood already or if I'm still forced to stay in the comfort 
of having minimal to no responsibilities. But that's quite a stretch considering I've been carrying a load of silent responsibilities as a child. Maybe those experiences define me? I grew up feeling like I had the responsibility of being the family's mediator. It immensely confused me as to why I was the only one with a different last name from the rest of my siblings. "Mama, kaynaman iba akon apelyido?" I remember 4-year-old Jovie asking her mother and receiving the reply- "Pakianhi ira tatay.", which made my barely developed brain formulate different thoughts inappropriate for a child to have. Elders explained the feud in my family and made me question whether I was really the reason why my family was in chaos. Whether I was the reason why my older siblings couldn't have the luxury of having both parents by their side and settle with our physically and emotionally abusive grandmother and uncle.
The childish thought that I was the root of all chaos grew stronger as I grew older as it became evident how different and horrible my family's treatment towards me was. As a child, it was clear to me that my mother did not enjoy entertaining or providing for me. She prepared food my sisters asked for as I went to sleep hungry. She would be on her phone looking for entertainment as I weakened in bed with a high fever. When I was 5 years old, I had a very high fever. My father worked in Cebu and my mother left me and my brother who was 17 at that time alone at home. My brother left me to hang out with his friends knowing very well I was sick. With my frail body, I walked around the baranggay trying to look for my brother because I felt extreme starvation and dehydration. I returned home with my fever in a worse state and still alone because I couldn't find my brother. As I got older, you can say my relationship with my mother didn't get any better. She indulges in pointing out certain insecurities and developing new problems about myself I prefer not to discuss. She often compares my academic capabilities with other people. She hates it when she sees myself enjoying and laughing with friends while I become non-verbal when I'm with my family. But I don't blame her. I do indeed become better when I'm with my friends.
I've been in different circles, and I've learned and faced a lot of realizations along the way. As a child, it was very difficult for me to socialize with children in my age group. I often talked with adults, and they'd be fascinated by my EQ and how well I analyze and understand situations. I often received comments about me having the mind of an old man which led to adults easily confiding to me. I enjoyed listening about infidelities and other familial issues and giving adults advice on how they should handle such scenarios. Maybe that's also one of the reasons why I am fascinated by tarot cards and oracles. I often feel like I have no one to confide in so I resort to asking for guidance from my cards. I'm easily attached to any connection I make with people, whether toxic or not. I can also easily detach myself as soon as I feel something is off from their energy. Friendship with the same sex is something I cherish as I believe it is a great part of girlhood. I look for a part of myself in every friend I make. It's quite amusing how many male friends I have despite being a frequent enemy of men. There's just something about the male population that I greatly despise.
I've found how gravely dependent I am on friendships. It is very difficult for me to let go of friends whether casual or long term. I had a friend group that lasted for 3 years, and the fallout greatly affected me. It left me in great sadness for 2 months. I walked into hallways crying about how bad the fallout was. But then again; 3 years of friendship has nothing against 6 years. During math period back in the 5th grade, I was assigned to sit next to a girl who barely attended classes for 2 years. I didn't like this classmate; she had eyes that seemed to hate everyone. Looking back, she was just really an introvert. Our friendship was the most lax and interesting dynamic. An introvert and a hyperactive extrovert who feels as if she'll die if she doesn't talk or move. She listened to every thought that came into me and went out of my mouth. Sort of a yin and yang dynamic. Our friendship wasn't merely a connection built because of a seating arrangement. It was built through contradicting interests, completely opposite values, and conditions in the family. The perfect spice in this blend was trauma bonding. We've been together through almost all quests. I've been through 6 friend groups, and I always end up returning to her no matter what.
I've been out under a lot of expectations even as a child. I was expected to be clever and quiet which I successfully channeled. My aunt used to become so irritated with me because of my obedience. I was diagnosed with Urinary Tract Infection when I was in elementary, and my mother clearly told me to control my consumption of sweets. At every family gathering my aunt would lecture me; not because I overconsumed sweets but because I strongly rejected every offer of consuming. My whole family recognized me as a clever child who performed very well in school. I enjoyed reading about history and my cousins once borrowed my iPad for entertainment and they rudely pointed out how boring I was because my downloaded videos were all about philosophies and history. I never understood why I was expected to be so obedient but got criticized for obeying.
My schoolmates and teachers also expected my performance to be satisfactory. I was a student in the Special Program in the Arts; I specialized in theatrical arts and received a great amount of recognition for my skills and excelled in my rank. I topped the auditions and entrance exam. It was all rainbows until my theater-mates decided I was too good and targeted me for bullying. Although I enjoyed performing, I did not enjoy the whispers they'd make during and after my performance. I did
not enjoy the way they rolled their eyes every time I performed and received recognition from our seniors and specialists. To protect my peace; I shifted my specialization to creative writing. Although I enjoyed the craft, I still missed performing. By 9th grade, our teachers held auditions for the school recital, and I got in. I hated attending rehearsals because of how draining and tiring it was. As usual, my teachers and peers expected me to perform well, and I delivered. But no expectation is worse and more impactful than my own. I create self-destructive expectations. So, what makes me a woman? My circles? The struggles I've faced. The expectations I try to reach. The expectations I try to avoid. Who knows. My girlhood has only begun; figuring out womanhood cramps my brain too painfully. Maybe when I reach the time; then I'll know how far I've gone.
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| July 2019 |
Returning home after a fun yet tiring vacation.
That is truly how my friendship with her feels. We both have strong issues with our mothers', so it feels as if we're each other's parental figures. We can survive months of minimal to no communication and still be as close after one small talk. Like ghosts exploring and returning. But do my circles and my experiences from them define my womanhood? The ache from the loneliness and presence rooted in them shouldn't get to decide who I am and who I get to become but only who I was. Why is it expected that we are who we surround ourselves with, partially it is correct but still; I refuse to be recognized based on old connections that harmed me or even both ends. I despise expectations more than anything. It leaves me in corners where I'm given no choice to take.
I performed quite well in school; I'm not an overachiever but I have achieved certain things. I enjoyed reading and writing stories, so I often received them as gifts. I didn't like studying but I enjoyed arts and literature; especially when I'm the one performing. I was an editorial writer back in elementary and received special awards when I graduated. My family expected me to perform well in everything.
not enjoy the way they rolled their eyes every time I performed and received recognition from our seniors and specialists. To protect my peace; I shifted my specialization to creative writing. Although I enjoyed the craft, I still missed performing. By 9th grade, our teachers held auditions for the school recital, and I got in. I hated attending rehearsals because of how draining and tiring it was. As usual, my teachers and peers expected me to perform well, and I delivered. But no expectation is worse and more impactful than my own. I create self-destructive expectations. So, what makes me a woman? My circles? The struggles I've faced. The expectations I try to reach. The expectations I try to avoid. Who knows. My girlhood has only begun; figuring out womanhood cramps my brain too painfully. Maybe when I reach the time; then I'll know how far I've gone.
