“I’ll Believe in Anything”

If I had to choose between sunny and rainy days, I’d always prefer the cold, calming noise that comes from the light showers that come along at the start of June. They remind me of raindrops pitter-pattering on the streets of Manila, striking my umbrella and wetting the hems of my trousers, and of the warm soups waiting in carinderias or at home.

Most importantly, the rain never exists without the possibility of the sun breaking through. It almost always yields that desired warmth and light – the colorful half-circle that appears in the sky (with an occasional twin on some days), and its brightness that always seems to follow you.

I’ve read many works in which the sun, or its sunshine, served as a symbol of love and life. People often use sunshine to describe affection or anything associated with love. Features of a person are frequently painted this way— their eyes, their smile. Sometimes, they themselves become the sunshine of their partner’s life. As they say, “You are my sunshine,” or in the context of this work, “Give me your eyes, I need sunshine.”

I guess I was one of those people. I am someone who associates sunshine with people she loves – from my first partner with her bright smile, to the boy whose optimism felt like talking to the sun personified. They have always come as the anticipated light, a presence that follows the comfortable rain, yet longed for regardless.

Recently, this figurative use of sunshine became more prominent as the metaphor-synecdoche lyrics gained popularity through a TV show, reminding many that they deserve peace; that they deserve to love and to be loved. Lately, it has transcended the screen and taken over social media. Queer people have shared their partners and experiences, with the same message reverberating across every feed: “Regardless of who I am or what I identify as, I deserve the same sunshine as everyone else.”

Watching this unfold through an LED screen leaves a bittersweet feeling to me. Sweet, because I am witnessing people who are unafraid to share parts of themselves, and how willing they are to share their world with everyone else. Bitter, as it’s a constant reminder of the continuing protest. It is a stark reminder that some people still refuse to see them as equals nor human.

Amid the mixed emotions harbored with each swipe, it also leaves another harsher strike, a lingering feeling of unknowing and not belonging.

Being queer or questioning in secret still feels that way. While others bask in the sunshine, I remain hiding inside, unsure where I belong underneath the sky. I still don’t know what “label” I am suited to have. My identity has shifted like classroom arrangements, or like the clothing styles I’ve worn, or the nicknames that felt “more correct” on any given day. Articles and tests never quite capture the feeling, or perhaps it is the mix of inculcated denial that who I am isn’t “acceptable.”

I have lived with the constant reminder that the existence of this community is debated to this day. I’ve been told that “everyone deserves to live,” only to be hit with the caveat, “...only if you live your life based on what is ‘morally right’.” It drills into me that something born from unconditional love is capable of such ostracization. Yet, how is it wrong if I love someone who happens to be the same sex? Why is it wrong not to feel the same pang in your chest that others do when they fall in love? The barrage of questions from others and myself has felt like a thunderstorm, the unkind version of the rain I found comfort in. 

I admit, this storm has pushed me back into the closet faster and longer than the ten seconds of bravery it took to step out of it. But looking through the peepholes born from years of clawing through the wooden boards, I can still see that waiting flicker of sunshine, composed of different tones and hues, ready to arise after this. There are already places where the storm has begun to subside, greeted by the welcoming sky.

It will take some time before mine clears, but I know the wait will end. I will get my own sunshine, because I deserve to feel it again, too.

(This work is based on a song by Wolf Parade of the same title.)