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.”
As soon as Sela’s second child was born, she knew her daughter was different. “Kasi sobrang itim po niya. Ang taong po sa akin was, ‘Anak ba siya ng foreigner na Itim?’ Sabi ko ay, ‘Hindi po. Baka mana lang sa akin kasi maitim po ako.’ Sabi niya, ‘Mommy, hindi talaga. Iba talaga yung anak mo’ (She was really dark. I was asked, ‘Is she the child of a Black parent?’ I said, ‘No. Maybe she just took after me because I’m dark-skinned.’ She said, ‘It’s not that, Mommy. Your child’s really different’).”
They already told Sela she has a daughter. But after the attendants bathed the child, they went back to Sela. They told her that the child was “kakaiba (peculiar)”, and that they found two sets of genitalia. They then placed the word “ambiguous” in the hospital records.
Tests were done on the child. After an ultrasound, Sela was informed they found testicles, so they “had to identify the child as male.” In that hospital at least, records show Sela had a son that time.
CONTINUING CHALLENGES
Things didn’t get easier from there. The very next day, people from that hospital’s newborn screening center went to her to inform her that seven to 14 days after the child’s birth, “puwede na siyang mag-crisis ang buhay. Puwede po siyang mamatay pag wala pa rin gamot (the child could have life-threatening crisis. The child could die without medicines).” Even then Sela said they were already a victim of lack of knowledge. They were given the bad news with a solution of finding hydrocortisone tablet or capsule (that was not readily available) to save their child, only to find out much, much later that injectable hydrocortisone (that was more readily available) would have sufficed. “Naisip ko, pa-eight days na yung baby ko. Eh seven to 14 days lang puwede siyang mamatay (I thought then, my child already lived for eight days. And she could die in seven to 14 days).”.
The child was eventually diagnosed to have Congenital Adrenal Hyperplasia (CAH), so “may salt wasting po. Wala silang asin sa katawan (she had salt wasting. They don’t have salt in their body).”
Medical expenses aren’t cheap. This is not helped by the fact that – to date – only one pharmacy sells the medicines needed to keep the child alive, i.e. Apotheca in Makati City. A month’s supply of hydrocortisone costs ₱5,100, while fludrocortisone costs ₱2,100. Another medicine – sodium chloride – is at least widely available, though still costs ₱700 per bottle. “This is ongoing. Lifetime na ang medication niya (Her medication is for a lifetime).”
The child’s sex assigned at birth was also eventually changed to female, which happened when Sela transferred to the Philippine General Hospital (PGH) due to the lack of a pediatric endocrinologist in the provincial hospital where she gave birth. And there, she was told to delay the registration of live birth because “kalimitan ambiguous is babae (when a child has ambiguous genitalia, the child will be a girl).” And this was what was reflected after karyotyping.
INTERSEX CONCERNS
Sela is able to detail challenges faced, and still currently faced.
For instance, since she still lives outside of Metro Manila, lifesaving tests are not readily available for her child. For example, “yung 17-0HP test, wala po silang ganyan sa Quezon Province na laboratory (17-0HP test is not available in any lab in Quezon Province).”
Secondly, medicines are not only costly, but are also limited. At the peak of Covid-19, when lockdowns were imposed, Sela recalled asking for help to go to Makati City to get supplies, but was reprimanded for “using the child for your personal benefit.” “Hindi naman nila alam yung kalagayan namin kasi hindi naman nila naranasan (They don’t know what we go through because they don’t experience it).”
To add to the access of medicines, the pharmacy is also allegedly not giving the law-required 32% discount if Sela and other parents like her buy supplies for three months. “One month lang ang binibigay nila na discounted. Yun daw po ay policy nila. Tapos humihingi kami ng resibo, hindi po nila kami mabigyan. May resibo man, wala yung price (they just give discount for a month’s supply. That’s supposedly their policy. And then when we ask for receipt, they don’t give this to us. Or if they do, they omit the price of what we bought).”
And thirdly, getting support from agencies is tedious. The Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD), for instance, gives ₱5,000 every three months. But the list of requirements is long: medical abstract, barangay indigent certificate, receipts (which is why there’s a need for that official receipt from Apotheca), laboratory request, quotation/s for medicines, and so on.
LOOKING FOR SUPPORT
Sela said they’re still lucky because “andami pong nagmamahal sa baby ko. Siguro dahil pagdating sa baby ko, ang taray ko (a lot of people love my baby. Perhaps because when it comes to my baby, I am sassy).”
Now three years old, “kaka-start niya lang lumakad nung January. Napa-laboratory na rin namin kung bakit maliit siya. Normal naman po (she just started to walk last January. We had laboratory test done to check why she’s tiny. But everything’s normal).”
Sela is also preparing herself “kung ano ang maging desisyon niya paglaki niya (what she decides for herself when she grows up),” adding that the child did not undergo surgery so she can make this decision for herself.
FINDING ‘FAMILY’
For Sela, it helps belonging to an intersex organization because it makes their voice louder. “Pag kami lang kasi, di kami papansinin. Pag kami lang nagsabi tungkol sa ganitong usapan, hindi kami papansinin (If it’s just us, no one pays attention. If it’s just us complaining, no one heeds us).”
And she wants other parents of intersex children to be courageous. “Lakasan na lang ang loob. Kapal-kapalan na rin ang mukha. Kasi kailangan talaga para sa mga anak natin. Kung sino ang puwedeng lapitan nila, lalapitan po. Kung sino ang mahihingian ng tulong, hingian ng tulong. Para sa gamot na lang ng baby (Be brave. Grow a thick face. We need this for our children. Whoever can be approached, approach them. Whoever can help, ask them for help. Just to medicate our children).” – WITH MICHAEL DAVID dela Cruz TAN
THE ORIGINAL ARTICLE APPEARED IN “I EXISTS”, A COFFEE TABLE BOOK PRODUCED IN 2023 BY INTERSEX PHILIPPINES, INC. (IXPI) TO HIGHLIGHT THAT THE ‘I’ IN THE LGBTQIA ACRONYM EXISTS, AND THAT MANY OF THEIR ISSUES CONTINUE TO BE NEGLECTED EVEN BY THE LGBTQIA COMMUNITY.
FOR MORE INFORMATION ON IXPI, OR OF “I EXISTS”, CONTACT IXPI, THE PIONEERING ORGANIZATION FOR INTERSEX PEOPLE IN THE PHILIPPINES.
