This is part of #KaraniwangLGBTQIA, which Outrage Magazine officially launched on July 26, 2015 to offer vignettes of LGBT people/living, particularly in the Philippines, to give so-called “everyday people” – in this case, the common LGBTQIA people – that chance to share their stories.
As Outrage Magazine editor Michael David C. Tan says: “All our stories are valid – not just the stories of the ‘big shots’. And it’s high time we start telling all our stories.”
Azia, 23, was maybe 12 years old when she realized she’s transgender. “Mga 12, nagduwa kog Barbie, and dira na ko nagkuyog-kuyog mga babaye. Feeling nako babae (Around 12, I started playing with Barbie dolls, and played with girls. I felt then that I’m a girl),” she said.
She was lucky, though, that – as one of three kids – her family was accepting. “Kabawo sila nga baye ko. Akong papa wala pa ato, unya kanang pagkabawo na niya, wala lang, kanang gi-ask-an lang unya… nadawat na niya. Wala nangulata (They know I’m transgender. My father didn’t initially know, but when he found out, it didn’t matter to him, he just asked me and… he accepted me. I was never abused).”
A lot of transgender-related practices were learned by Azia from her peers – e.g. using hormones. “Friends nanudlo. Sunod ra sa mga friends (My friends taught me. I just followed my friends).”
It was also her peers who influenced her to do sex work.
LIFE AS SEX WORKER
At first, Azia just accompanied her friends. “Mga 16 ko ato (I was 16 then).”
But she observed how they did sex work. “Sa mga dalan-dalan sila nag-unsa. Unya chat-chat. Afam, ana. Sa WhatsApp, sa Pinalove, ug sa Facebook (They picked up guys from streets. At times when chatting. Foreigners. In WhatsApp, Pinalove, and Facebook).”
But even then, she knew of the risks involved. “Pero dili kaayo mi. Kay mahdlok man. Maskin kanang mag-meet-meet. Kulatahon. Basi bugal-bugalan, ana. Kung feeling nako kulbaan ko, dili ko mag-meet (We don’t meet others often. We’re also afraid. Even when meeting. We could be physically abused. We could be harmed. So when I have apprehensions, I don’t meet clients).”
LIFE AS TRANS
Azia tried to study by doing the Alternative Learning System (ALS), a program offering an alternative to formal schooling for those who can’t access formal education. But she did not complete the community-based, non-formal education program.
Mainly: there are expenses related to studying, and “dili lang baya tuition imong huna-hunaon (tuition isn’t the only thing you spend on).”
So when her friends started working, so did Azia. “Ang mga friends naa lang didto. Silingan man sa baryo, sa Mabolo (My friends were always there. They’re neighbors in the province, in Mabolo).”
And the role of her friends in her life’s direction can be said to be gigantic – e.g. they taught Azia how to transition, and – after introducing her to sex work – they also taught her how to keep herself safe, so much so that she’d consider safer sex practices only if “himuon pud nila (they also do these).”
Alas, she said, “mutuyok sa friends ang buhi sa trans (the life of a trans person revolves around her friends).”
MOVING FORWARD
Azia is still in her 20s, so “wala pa nagplano (I have yet to make plans),” she said. Meaning, “padayon ra (I’ll just continue).”
And yes, she knows not everyone approves of what she – and her friends – are doing. But “good luck nila (I say good luck to them)”, adding that “wala baya mi nila gipakaon (they don’t feed us).”
So Azia’s focus is on the more immediate – e.g. finding clients, assessing if she’d be safe if she went with client 1 or client 2, ensuring she has condoms and lubricant, et cetera. “Focus jud (I just focus on these),” she said.
And in truth, that is the “norm” in the life of many like Azia, a trans Cebunana sex worker.
