Oh, for crying out loud!

Ever since I could remember, I’ve been frustrated with my name – Diwa. To most, people think it’s a boy’s name but it is not. Diwa is a Tagalog word meaning “essence” or “spirit”. For example, “Diwa ng Pasko” in English translation “Spirit of Christmas” or “Essence of Christmas”;

Have you ever been frustrated having your name misunderstood, miss-read or misspelled? I had a lot of those and especially when I buy favorite coffee at my favorite coffee shop. They would sometimes misspell it to: Dina, Tina, Gina and the weirdest one I got was Diway. Where did the letter y come from? I kept thinking, does my voice sound strange? Do I eat the letters that people can’t hear it correctly? Is my writing that bad? I don’t want to be a sexiest here but is my handwriting too manly?

I’ll take you guys to my memory lane, if you can bear with me. I remember when I was around six years old (twenty-three years ago), someone called on the phone; I picked up the receiver and someone (a lady) was looking for my dad. I told her that my dad was out at the time. The lady asked what my name was and I said to her, “Diwa.” Right after getting my name she said, “hijo, paki sabi sa tatay mo na tawagan ako.” English translation: “Son, would you please tell your dad to call me.” If you know the Philippine history, some Spanish words were adopted. To continue, I never really remember anything after that conversation. I know I didn’t retaliate when hearing that the lady made a mistake of my gender.

Years later, I was old enough to have my own bicycle and yet not wise enough to know if I was being conned/tricked. I think I was around eleven or twelve years old at the time. Around that time, my parents thought of cutting my hair really short (short as a boy’s haircut) since I’m too thin. At that time, they thought that my hair was taking all of the nutrients since my hair was already almost at my legs.

One day, I went out for a stroll and there were these two boys riding a bike who saw me. They started laughing and pointed at me shouting, “Ah, bakla!” (“Ah gay/fag!”)

I was shocked and ran back to my house and told my “yaya” (maid) about it. Yaya thought that maybe if I wore earrings, I wouldn’t look like a gay person. I thought that it was also a good suggestion and so I did wore a huge pair of earrings that my mom gave me. I stepped out of the house and saw the two boys again. They saw me and said, “Ah, bakla nga!” (“Ah, he is gay!”) Children can be very mean sometimes. I think this was one of the reasons why I hated my looks.

On the very same month, I was out riding my bike with my brother and then we went for a stop for a drink at this little shop. When suddenly a guy came running towards us and then told me and my brother that my dad got hit by a car. I was terribly shocked and he told me he’s at the other side of the street. My brother ran quickly while I was holding the bicycle. In my terrible state, the guy said to me to also check it out and without knowing I let go of the bicycle and came running.

At the end of the other street I saw my brother confused, there was nothing. The street was clear, I ran back to that little shop the guy was gone and so was my bike. I then realized that I got scammed. My brother and I walked back home and we saw our dad having fun with his sisters. I went up to him crying and told him that I lost the bike. My favorite aunt felt bad and told me that she’ll accompany me to the police to report it. Inside the police station, my aunt was talking to a police officer and a few feet across I was sniffing and they looked at me. I was pretty much sure that my Aunt told the police what my name was. Suddenly the policeman called out, “boy, halika rito” (“come here, boy”).

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