bewitched-bothered-bewildered

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

MODULE 3, Entry 2 of 2.

My Online/Offline Identities

This may seem very unlikely in this day and age, but I have no self-created social media posts on SNS! But we will continue to dissect what exactly I have on all my active SNS accounts (i.e. Tumblr, Pinterest and Facebook), and discuss my overall lack of self-created posts.

Facebook

These two posts are the only things I’ve added to my timeline in the last half year. They’re posted by my Mom and my older sister, respectively, who are more active on Facebook than I am. I don’t really use Facebook so much for anything. I haven’t updated my profile picture or cover photo in over a year! :( But I do use Messenger a lot, mostly for school-related communication or with friends.

Tumblr

My real-life Tumblr account mirrors the same findings. I don’t create my own posts, and only reblog those that I find funny or interesting. I usually use Tumblr as a source for fandom meta-analysis, in-depth astrology updates, and obscure linguistics and Roman history posts. I feel like my account is very disorganized, which is uncharacteristic of me, a person who labels everything and plans out things to a tee. Tumblr gives me an avenue to be in the moment, to like what I like and post whatever. Tumblr is also an excellent source for a wide variety of esoteric topics, a huge factor in my constant use. 

To get a more organized understanding of my online interests (as Tumblr posts are numerous and not very organized), we will look at my Pinterest boards. 

Pinterest

Pinterest also allows for a diverse slew of topics of interest, except without Tumblr’s user input. But Pinterest is more organized because it provides boards. And I think, with 374 followers, I am able to relate my ideas more with the community without really interacting with them. My interest are mostly fandom-centered (e.g. Game of Thrones, Maze Runner, Harry Potter, Les Mis, etc.). I have a few boards on KPOP, but they stopped being active after I lost interest. I have my girly boards with clothes and make-up and aesthetics. My most popular and extensive board is the one on humor!

Discussion

I believe several things have contributed to my lack of self-created posts:

I didn’t grow up with social media. My mother in particular didn’t allow me an email or a Facebook account until I was 16. So most of my life was not centered around chatting or online life. In fact, I don’t like chat-messaging for hours on end! This explains a lot about my inactivity on Facebook, for example. Updating people about everything going on in my life seems a bit tedious and somewhat narcissistic  unnecessary for someone who was only exposed to the culture for two years. In this sense, I am more of an offline entity than an online one.

My offline shyness translates into my online persona too. I avoid allowing posts that show unflattering angles or shots on my timeline, and I (like in real life) feel that I’d be a little self-absorbed if I started doing that.

I only really stick with sites that hold my interest. I believe I mentioned in my other blog entry that I love information. I can spend hours looking up the most obscure topics because they make me happy. Online too. This is why my accounts on Snapchat and Twitter started becoming inactive after a few weeks.

The sense of community is enough for me. Knowing that other people are interested in my pins, or seeing my friends on my timeline from time to time is enough for me to feel “at home” in my virtual world. Sometimes I leave comments or reacts on Facebook. I leave likes on Pinterest. On Tumblr, I leave anonymous comments on my the page of my mutual, Sydney Clark (@trulymadlysydney), who’s been like a sister to me in the year I’ve been on Tumblr, telling her how I’ve been or congratulating her on her latest achievement. 

In all, my virtual persona is very, very similar to my actual personality. I believe it is the product of a restricted upbringing, in the sense that online life was never really part of my life until recently. I carry a lot of myself into my virtual world (my shyness, my punny humor, etc), whilst exploring the topics that interest me in real life (fandoms, Roman history, French language, and so on).

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

BINHI Reflections

My time spent with Ate Sheila at Blessings Bookbinding and Photocopy Services truly was a blessing, and I mean this sincerely with all my heart. At first, I was very apprehensive about not knowing anything. Even with Ate Ekha’s help and all the workshops we attended, being on the spot was different: How was I supposed to last 6 hours without making things awkward? What if I made mistakes with the printing and Ate Sheila would have to suffer for it? I didn’t want to be a burden. But when I got there, everything went better than expected.

Ate Sheila showed me that people don’t automatically think the worst of you, not all the time. She was extremely patient with me, teaching me how to print and charge and bind. It was a very fun experience! Also, I was very grateful that the Ateneo has students who are courteous and polite (even under imminent deadlines!).

(^^ me with my first binding, I was so proud!)

But on a more meaningful note, this BINHI exposure allowed me to experience camaraderie in the short six hours we spent together. Our kwentuhan went on about everything--her kids, her life story, the tragedy of losing a future in the face of an unexpected pregnancy. And contentment in the midst of all this hardship. I remembered our discussion in SocSci about how certain tasks were given less value than others in certain contexts. If you think about it, photocopying and printing can be easily written off as menial, as easy. But actually being there? It was not menial or easy at all, and yet Ate Sheila was pure grace under pressure. And she was happy where she was, despite all her setbacks in life. She was a doorway to a life outside my own, with the stories of her province and her daughters.

Ate Sheila inspired me to stop and look at the people around me. The janitors, the secretaries, the security guards, all of those often overlooked. They all have their own stories, they all have their own complexities, and as human beings, these aspects of them deserve to the time to be recognized. It’s not that I don’t know this, only that this action is often taken for granted by people like me, too blinded by the business of our own lives. We all struggle. Some just struggle more gracefully, more quietly than others. All the more reason to treat everybody with kindness, and make the effort to reach out, makipagkapwa in recognition of their humanity.

There was not an awkward moment. I learned that most awkward moments are in my head. Ate Sheila and Ate Katherine (the security personnel) actually gave me food! They showed me bonding and hospitality that I will forever be grateful for, and I will cherish them in my memories.

(^^our yummy chicharon)

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

MODULE 2, Entry 2 of 2.

Questioning my Hogwarts Identity

In life, there are things you are sure about. And then there are things you are sure about.

Of course, you may be sure of your mother’s name, the time of day. You’re probably sure that you’ll fall asleep tonight to and wake up tomorrow. But to be sure is something else entirely. Being sure is a feeling deep in your bones, it’s your gut telling you I know. I know and you have to trust me.

You’re sure there is no purer good in this world than a happy doggo, for example. You’re sure you’ll marry Tom Hiddleston one day 😍 You’re sure there’s a math god out there somewhere you must have annoyed in your past life because Lord knows mathematics will never make sense to you. Being sure doesn’t require proof. It’s a sense of intuition, of knowing without knowing. Trusting without questioning.

For most of my conscious life, I was absolutely sure I was a Ravenclaw. The world of Harry Potter and the magic of Hogwarts meant so much to me growing up. It gave an introverted child hope, some semblance of wonder in a world that was difficult to adjust to, some form of camaraderie when friends were hard to come by. And despite the changes that came with the shift from preadolescence to the turmoil of the teenage years, being sorted into Ravenclaw was definite part of my identity. And it continues to this day.

Actual footage of me:

This is my phone’s lockscreen. Isn’t it pretty?

This is my Ravenclaw shirt. I wore this to OrSem!!

But this topic of Identity Formation prompted me to question the topic of my Hogwarts House. Based on Marcia’s Identities and my super plenty Ravenclaw merch, I seem a bit foreclosed, don’t I? Maybe it would be healthy to introspect further on this ‘truth’ I have taken for certain all these years. 

Members of the four Hogwarts Houses possess common hallmark traits that mark them as belonging in either Gryffindor, Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. 

You might belong in Gryffindor, Where dwell the brave at heart, Their daring, nerve, and chivalry Set Gryffindors apart;

You might belong in Hufflepuff, Where they are just and loyal, Those patient Hufflepuffs are true And unafraid of toil;

Or yet in wise old Ravenclaw, if you've a ready mind, Where those of wit and learning, Will always find their kind;

Or perhaps in Slytherin You'll make your real friends, Those cunning folks use any means To achieve their ends.

These basic traits come directly from the first Harry Potter book, and they exemplify a few characteristics. 

Gryffindors seek adventure and desire glory, above all. They tend to leap before they look, and are very direct in dealing with problems. Passionate and individualistic. Their symbol is the lion, and their element is fire. 

Hufflepuffs are fiery in a different sort of way, more akin to the warmth of sunlight than to a scorching flame. Hufflepuff house is collectivist in nature, and its members focus on fostering relationships with care, comfort and love. Practical and hardworking. Focus on decency, loyatly, tolerance. Their symbol is the badger. Their element is earth.

Ravenclaws are similarly non-confrontational, but instead are highly individualistic. Their love for knowledge and learning is not limited to scholarly pursuits. Ravenclaws are drawn to the esoteric, and hence are the most open-minded and accepting of radical ideas and unique interests. Knowledge for knowledge’s sake. Their element is air, and their symbol is the eagle.

Slytherins might take knowledge and use it to achieve their ends. This is not to say that all Slytherins are heartless or ruthless, only that they are ambitious and will do almost anything to achieve their goals. They value their reputations, and are not afraid of risks. Their element and their symbol, water and the snake, respectively, reflect the versatility and duality of this House.

(For a more in-depth analysis, more info here.)

Ravenclaw’s love for learning is the most apparent in the way that it resonates with me. My friends would probably tell you that I waste my time on things that are not that useful in real life. The intricacies of Roman politics? I can probably tell you about them. The science behind graphology? Check. Fictional languages? I know Sindarin, some Esperanto. Weird esoteric knowledge makes me happy. Close-minded ignorant people do not. On the surface level, I’m a sure Ravenclaw.

But what about my values? I value fairness, meritocracy, hardwork and fair play in achieving my means. Doesn’t that resonate with Hufflepuff philosophy? What about my motivations? In that regard, I am most definitely Slytherin because I prioritize my achievements before all else (maybe at the expense of other things, like adventure or friendship). My reputation always comes first. What about my aspirations? I always wanted to be a Gryffindor--not because of the movies, but because I was always a timid child. Gryffindors have the strength to speak up, to stand up and fight, jump into the unknown without fear, and I’ve always admired that.

I was reminded of Freud’s iceberg. Surface level appearances are hardly enough to encapsulate what lies underneath. Also, I was so filled with confusion and doubt at this point that I could safely say my foreclosed status was moving into the moratorium territory. (Challenging this truth actually scared me so much that I messaged Sydney to rant about it!)

This entire process made me question why it was necessary to ‘sort’ oneself into a house in the first place. Aren’t humans too dynamic to encapsulate into one of four categories? I remember Dumbledore, the Headmaster from the HP series, mentioning that they sort children too soon. Children change and evolve. People define and redefine themselves all the time. My status as a Ravenclaw may be valid now, but who’s to say? I might finally become a Gryffindor when I develop the courage to take chances, to embrace amor fati.

I think this reflects the process of identity formation pretty well. Questioning this sure aspect of myself and finding so many contradictions opened my eyes to all the other things I have to question in my life. Do I really want to pursue medicine? Is BS Psych the right course for me? Did I allow other people to influence my decision? Was I just too scared of the uncertainty of following my passion for archaeology and linguistics? And perhaps the most terrifying question of them all: Now what?

Now I just have to write the future.

Hello Ma’am, this isn’t really important, but you know I was so shook (HAHAHA) by questioning my Ravenclaw status, so I took SO MANY some tests!

Here are my findings:

I found that I, at this very moment, am indeed a Ravenclaw, but with heavy Slytherin and Hufflepuff leanings. This reinforces the fact that my Hogwarts identity is heavily influenced by my upbringing, but also that it is whatever I define it to be. Like a person’s actual identity, nothing is set in stone. This experiment was a very fun way of proving/disproving that statement.

Also I’m really glad this photo wasn’t a waste!!!

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

MODULE 2, Entry 1 of 2.

Who I am with different people, as told through the freshest memes. (Also, I made them myself! :D) Without further ado, I present some of my many faces! 

With strangers:

With acquaintances and authorities:

With not-so-close friends:

With close friends:

With relatives:

With family:

With myself:

(Disclaimer: ^^this gif isn’t mine!)

BONUS: With crushie ;))

I realize this doesn’t capture everything about me, but there’s no better place to start than with my love for memes. thank you Gen Z culture

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

MODULE 3, Entry 1 of 2.

Changes in the Parent-Child Relationship

I was really interested in the two articles on Individuation because they were clearly written by Americans, for an American audience. As we all know, American culture is one that emphasizes individuality and independence, which is an ideological climate that is very, very different from Philippine culture. 

From reading Smollar and Youniss’ work, it seemed that much of the initiation towards separation was done on the child’s part. The child is driven to explore outside the family, transform parental bonds, redefine the power dynamic, while the parents adjust accordingly. In my life, it seems as though it is my parents who might sever the parental bond. Interesting, isn’t it?

This infographic is an analogy of the individuation process as I have experienced and am currently experiencing it now, but instead of Smollar and Youniss’ focus on child-driven separation, my version also includes the perspective of my parents (as I have gathered from what they told me). The process is divided into four maybe five? sections. The years are my own categorizations.

The Childhood Years (0 to 8) My parents were fond of me during my childhood years. I remember excitement and happiness. My dad would teach me how to swim, ride a bike. Mom would dress me up, maybe treat me to a “pedicure.” (She would only color my big toe!) I remember Mom would tell me to stand at one end of our long hallway, while she stood at the other. Then she would make me as fast as I could whilst screaming as loud as I can, right into her arms as she would catch me into the tightest embrace. Of course, there would be times where they would get mad at me, but they were mere flashes in the pan, forgiven and forgotten within the day.

In the infographic, this relationship is crafted with excitement and eagerness by my parents (because there is a certain fondness for babies, isn’t there?). The parents form the child into the mini-me versions of themselves.

Preadolescence (9 to 13) These years mark the beginning of true disputes. These were the years my parents started literally hammering me to fit into the mold that they wanted me to take (in terms of mannerisms, behavior, etc.). My mother always said, “I’m not afraid to be the unpopular parent, as long as my children are the better for it.” Corporal punishment was a big thing in our household (though thankfully, the thick wooden slat above the TV has been long out of use). 

These were the years I first felt any resentment towards my parents, who didn’t allow me to go out with friends or experience the use of social networking sites like every other normal child. I wanted to find who I was (if I was anybody at all), but I felt caged in. Still, I swallowed my pride and obeyed. I had no choice. My parents too were a lot moodier, especially Mom who was undergoing menopause. Hence, there was a “turning up of heat” in the process with the intense exchange of emotions.

The Teenage Years (14 to 17) Ah, my teenage years! This was the time I started crying about boys and worrying about carbs. My parents took a secondary role in my life during this time, while I started problematizing the society-based standards imposed on me. (Why is no one making me ligaw? Why am I not pretty? etc, etc.). Like glass, I was very fragile, but a semblance of identity had started to solidify. But ‘cracks’ started to appear as well.

By cracks, I refer to the products of how my parents raised me when I was younger. For example, remember when I said they didn’t allow me to go out with friends when I pleaded to? By the time they gave me the freedom to go out, I no longer wanted to. All my friends had built cliques and friendships without me, and I felt out-of-place, like an outsider. I turned out shy and an outcast with most of my relatives, often outshined by my more outgoing sister. And I am still paying for their mistakes repercussions to this day.

Young Adulthood (18 to this very moment) Turning 18 was more tumultuous than anybody expected. Because my parents babied me, growing into an adult with all the uncertainty made me cling on to the comforts of childhood. I have been sadder and angrier now, more than I ever was before. I started self-harming, and seeing a psychiatrist. I am reclusive and socially awkward. All the mistakes of the past seemed to have accumulated into one big mess of a person, too brittle to adapt to life’s new demands.

At this point, my parents are tired. I feel I have drained them of the will to support me when I am such a toxic person. Mom said my sister and I were opposites. Ate rebelled in her early teenage years, estranging herself from our family early on. While I, on the other hand, “grew beautifully” (obediently, like a dog), and didn’t complain. I’m a late bloomer, I guess, in the sense that all my bottled up teenage angst came at the onset of adulthood. For this, I have hurt my parents unnecessarily, and I have worried them beyond reason too many times, all within the last year or so. They always tried their best within their capabilities to accommodate me, but now their hands are bloodied, wounded and tired. Enthusiasm has turned into exasperation. In frustration, they have told me that they don’t know if they can keep draining themselves because of me. I guess we’ll have to see.

Adulthood (? to ?) I don’t know where I’ll go from here. I don’t know if my parents will have the strength and the patience to support me if I trigger another suicidal breakdown (the last one was about two weeks ago). But I do know that life moves on, whether I’m ready for it or not. Adulthood will come for me, regardless. I only hope I won’t have to go through it completely alone.

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

MODULE 0, Entry 2 of 2.

15 September 2018

Dearest Katelyn,

           I don’t know what to say or how to say it. These past few weeks have been the highest and the lowest points in your life. Suddenly, you’re free—free to go where you please, to do what you want. You have a beautiful campus with beautiful people, and possibilities that make your life before seem dull. Yet here you are—lost, anxious. You have no friends here. At least not yet. Again, you cannot connect with them. It’s the way it’s always been. College was supposed to be different. Did you throw your life away? Will you watch it pass you by? You didn’t join any orgs this year. You are very afraid that that’s exactly what you’re going to do. You can’t commit, you say. You don’t know if you’re good enough. You’re not enough. Well, let me ask you something.

Look at the drops of rain outside. See the mud and the earth, the ants that crawl. It thunders and it weeps outside; the skies are gray. The windows clang against their metal frames. It’s chaos. But it is beautiful in spite of it, is it not? The wind is cool, your hair is splayed. The bed is warmer than it’s ever been. You count the splatters on the wall.

           Now think.

Do the showers make you weep, my love? The clouds and the dark grey? You cry for your future. You cry for your friends. You cry for all the things that worry you, and yet you never weep for joy. For laughter. For blessings. All you see are the problems, the work, the stress. But life is colored by the smallest things you take for granted—the sun in the morning, the blue of the sky. There is so much more to the world around you, and there is so much more to you too. There is a world within, the depths of which only you can know.

           I can see that you’re afraid. Behind the façade of indifference, you are lonely. You shut people out because you think you aren’t worthy of their love, that they’ll leave and replace you like they always have. Let them in. Take the chance. Get hurt. Be loved. Open yourself up to the fact that maybe you haven’t found the right people yet, but you’ll never find them if you don’t try. You’re more interesting than you think. Share that with the world.

           And for once, don’t center your life around grades. You’ve given up so much to get where you are—you lost your childhood, your friends, your happiness, your life. Give it a rest. Give yourself a rest. Join extracurriculars. Take chances. Your fear of failure will get you nowhere. Don’t sit and watch as the world passes you by. I know you’re lost. You don’t believe you can make it through life. But, Katelyn, you have found reserves of strength you never knew you had, in something inside you that you didn’t know was there. Do it again. And again. And again. Prove your mom and your sister wrong when they call you weak. You have it in you. I know you do.

           Life is beautiful. You don’t always have to be the best. It’s okay to make mistakes—what would life be without them? You’re everything you want to be, my love. You’re everything you’ve ever been. And you’re exactly where you need to be. Take it easy on yourself. Take it slow. Live one day at a time.

Breathe. Fail. Live.

I’ll be here every step of the way.

Katelyn

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

MODULE 1, Entry 2 of 2.

DAY 1: TUESDAY

Where I went: Around campus -- from Zen garden, to the New Lib, to Sec A -- under the trees and the rain.

What I did: Talked to a close friend for around an hour and a half. Sometimes, chance encounters are meant to be.

How was it a vacation for me? I was engulfed by a sense of familiarity. Finding my place in the Ateneo has been very difficult for someone like me, for someone who takes years to open up and form substantial bonds. I know no one here, and often, no one has the time to wait for you. Talking with Caleb felt like escape. It felt like coming back home. Acceptance.

How did it make me feel right after? One reason why Caleb and I get along so well, despite us having extremely different personalities, is that we share the same world views. We thrive on discourse, on dialogue and debate. With the rain pouring outside the windows and the calm ambient of the lib, I forgot about my worries. I actually walked to math class with a smile. Though later in the night I did regret not using my time to accomplish more work, on the whole, I think it was a long-deserved break.

DAY 2: WEDNESDAY

Where I went: The daily route from home to school.

What I did: This day, I practiced an exercise in positivity. Along every street my Dad and I passed through, I tried to find something--anything--beautiful.

How was it a vacation for me? The ride from home to school is often times the most tiring 45 minutes of my day. Locked in the car, my mind drifts to the things I have to do today, the deadlines, the traffic. Inconsiderate drivers abound. Sometimes, you feel how tired you are when all you want to do is sleep. For this vacation, I decided to push away all of that, and look. And I liked what I saw. Buildings as vibrant as those along a Spanish avenue, crisp green vines against dull whitewashed walls. I noticed people, how vibrant the color of their skin; wondered where they came from, where they were going. The was a world beyond my problems.

How did it make me feel right after? I really did not want to go to school that day. Wednesdays had PE for the first subject, and being allergic to anything gross, I was not looking forward to a day of being drenched in sweat. No, not at all. Surprisingly, on my way to the weights gym, I felt a little bit lighter. It was not very substantial, but it was something.

DAY 3: THURSDAY

Where I went: Heaven! To dinner with the family.

What I did: I tried to do the mindful eating practice on the dinner that Mom prepared--salad, garlic Parmesan shrimp with cocktail sauce, and Spanish chorizo and cheese pasta. Yum!

How was it a vacation for me? Thursday was a drainer. We had quizzes, readings, and exams to keep us occupied, and all the studying from the day before did not make it particularly easy to stay awake. To my surprise, Mom decided to cook! And she made a feast. I looked forward to savoring the meal the way we had been taught in class. By focusing on my senses alone, perhaps I could appreciate the food more.

How did it make me feel right after? Mom’s food was the B E S T. However, I am sad to report that the mindful eating did not seem to impact how I felt so much? The food made me feel better with and without the mindfulness approach. Maybe being in the company of family and good food was enough. 

DAY 4: FRIDAY

Where I went: To Westeros!

What I did: After an afternoon spent working on requirements, I watched an hour-long episode of the long-awaited Season 7 of Game of Thrones!

How was it a vacation for me? This was easily the vacation I was most looking forward to, mainly for three reasons.

Fictional worlds was always an escape for me, ever since I was a kid. Books, movies--you name it. I would always close the lights, turn on the airconditioning, grab a blanket, and crank up the volume to 100. I have very fond associations with this practice, and it has always been a form of reward for accomplishments and hardships.

Game of Thrones is easily the bestest series I have ever watched (with BBC Sherlock a close second). The political intrigue and the shades of gray run deep. No character is protected by plot armor. More than this, I see reflections of myself in some characters--reflections of the limitations I have been insecure about, imperfections that I have always viewed as my downfall. To see Sansa and Arya and Jon overcome their flaws, to thrive in spite of them (or perhaps thrive because of them) gives me hope. Maybe I can learn and improve. Maybe I will be better than I thought I would be.

Delayed gratification. I was saving this particular episode for a special occasion (as it is the first episode of the last season). And the daily vacation seemed like the perfect place for it.

How did it make me feel right after? IT FELT LIKE I COULD CONQUER THE WORLD. Unlike the other vacations, I did not have to push away the negative thoughts that plagued me. After weeks (or maybe months?) of not watching, to be thrown back into the chaos of George R. R. Martin’s creation reminded me that against all odds, the only limits are my own.

FINAL EVALUATIONS

Taking vacations, ironically enough, is something you have to get used to. Personally, I found it difficult to plan what to do (when really all I wanted to do was sleep and work). But thinking about it in retrospect, the lessons were right. Everyone needs time to slow down and breathe. The world has a lot to offer, from great food, to great people. Even the most mundane car rides can be fruitful and uplifting. It was nice to let myself have break, to really eradicate all the things that give me wrinkles and cause me stress. I did notice though, that I had feelings of guilt after the vacations, somewhat like my mind was telling me I did not have the time to stop. Or maybe that I didn’t deserve it. An interesting point is that this feeling of guilt is strong when the vacations are taken in the middle of the day, as opposed to the start or the end. I feel like mindfulness is tailor-made. Maybe for one person, it is staring at the wall for a few hours. For another, it is blasting music and dancing behind closed doors. This experience makes me feel inspired to find the pathways of relaxation that suit me. I appreciate the reminder to rest. There is more to life than that which stresses me out.

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

MODULE 1, Entry 1 of 2.

[bewitched-bothered-bewildered]

MODULE 0, Entry 1 of 2.

E pluribus, unum.

What defines my lineage? Is it the eyes of my father? The jaw of my mother? Perhaps my teeth are like my grandfather’s, or my nose like my grandmother’s. What defines a person? A person is more than just their gait or their face, the lilt of their voice. A human being is the amalgamation of every trait, every feature, every microscopic imperfection that defines their physicality. And the internal self is the same.

Complex. Hybrid. One. 

The face of my personality is a globalized creation. I am made up of the things I am, the things I have been, and the things I want to be. I see the world with the blue of Sansa Stark’s eyes, in shades of innocence and hope, and the shattering of what I thought growing up would mean. The brown of Fanny Price’s eyes are my pride -- pride against the Filipino standard that dictates that introversion is a flaw, that women should be talkative and outgoing in order to be noticed. When I was 14, Jane Austen’s Fanny Price showed me that even the most quiet of girls deserves a happy ending. That sense of hope echoed within me, influencing the way I thought and saw the world. But soon, time forced me to leave the safety of my childhood. 

Victor Hugo’s Cosette is the backdrop of half of my portrait. She is my love for theatre, both foreign and local; she embodies my fondness for the French language, and the disuse of my mother tongue. She represents an awakening to the ills and the realities of the world outside. Cosette is a child growing up. She sees the problems of her nation -- the poverty, the stagnation, the disunity -- yet she feels helpless. The world of Les Miserables revolves around the men who drive the story’s narrative. Cosette challenges me to contribute to society, to change my foreign ideals in favor of a more locally-oriented one. She inspires me to never back down, even when I feel weak.

My globalized self wishes to speak with the voice of Peggy Carter. Unfazed by the limitations set on women in the time of WWII, Peggy drives me to smash the patriarchy with a stapler, whilst in red lipstick and three-inch heels. She is the voice telling me that the gender roles in the Philippines are passé. She is my sister, my mother, my lola. She is all the women who have been put down for their sex, but instead choose to stand up and fight back. She is who I strive to be.

Who I am is the opposite--I am a shy girl, more oriented towards the arts than to leadership or strength. The base of my portrait is the marble bust of Roman face. I adore the humanities. I could spend hours in museums inspecting each painting, every sculpture, immersing myself in a time long past. History is my escape. Sometimes I feel as though I am caught in the middle. My love for times before is often at odds with the world I function within today. The hand in the portrait represents this disparity. Memes meet marble. Feeds and golden filigree.

And lastly, the only thing in this picture that belongs to me. My nose. My identity.

For the most part of my life, I hated what I looked like. The women in my family are mestizas. My mother has the features of an American, with her delicate nose and her demure mouth. My sister has the alabastrine skin that bards sang about. Her eyes are a warm shade of chocolate brown and her nose is as pointed as a peak. Next to them, I was a half-baked potato: yellow and soft and round. Western standards determine beauty in the Philippines, and beauty determines worth. You have to be tall, and fair, and white. You’ll see it nearly everywhere you look, from EDSA billboards to your sachet of lotion. In my entire face, my nose was the hardest thing to accept. It represented the beauty that I did not have, and the Filipina that I was. To me, my nose symbolized more than just my features. My nose reminded me that I belonged to the Philippines, that I was ashamed of my country. And it took a lot for me to face that reality, but when I did, I realized that there is no shame in my Motherland. And much like how I felt towards my looks, I came to love my being Filipino, with all its flaws and limitations. My country may not be perfect, but its people are my people. It is home.

Including my nose in this portrait is an act of acknowledgement. This is accepting what I have. This is loving who I am. This is loving where I come from.

Many things have made me the person I am today. All of my faces, all of my masks have come from different places, different people. These influences have shaped me into the person I have grown into.  My flaws and imperfections strengthen me. Variety and unity define me. 

E pluribus, unum. 

Out of many, one.