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.”
When she was 26 years old, Liezel asked her elder sister to accompany her for a medical check-up. “Sumakit yung sa may balakang ko (I had pain in my hip area),” she said, so “sabi ko (I said), time to get a check-up.”
One of the questions asked her then was whether she already menstruated; and this got Liezel thinking. In elementary school, when her classmates already started menstruating and she didn’t yet, a classmate asked her about her period. “Sabi ko, hindi pa. Baka late bloomer (I said not yet. Maybe I’m a late bloomer).” In high school, she was asked the same thing; and her answer was the same: “Sabi ko late bloomer, baka sa college (I said I’m a late bloomer, maybe it’ll happen in college).” And then she was asked again in college, and “nagsawa na ako kaka-explain ng late bloomer, hinayaan ko na lang (I got tired telling people I’m a late bloomer, so I just let it pass).”
The OB-GYN who checked Liezel told her that she actually saw other similar cases, and yet that her case was “rare”. And then – mainly through physical examination – Liezel was told she won’t be able to bear her own children. “Siguro doon sa physical examination pa lang may nakita na siyang something wrong about me (Maybe from the physical examination alone she already saw something wrong with me).
A succeeding ultrasound showed that Liezel had “infantile uterus. Yung uterus ko parang pang-baby. Yun daw ang dahilan bakit hindi nireregla (My uterus was similar to a child’s. That was supposedly the reason why I didn’t menstruate).”
But the same OB-GYN gave Liezel an advice – i.e. not to make changes to her official documents to avoid complications.
All the same, “nung nalaman ko yung ganung situation ko, tatlong araw akong nagkulong sa kuwarto. Di ako lumalabas, di kumakain. Basta nagkulong lang, muni-muni lang. Bakit sa dami ng tao, bakit ako pa? So yun ang tinanong ko sa sarili ko (when I found out about my situation, I locked myself in my room for three days. I didn’t go out, didn’t eat. I just stayed in my room, thought things through. Why me among so many people? That’s what I asked myself).”
But that time also made Liezel think that “kaya siguro ako naging ganito kasi God has a plan for me. Meron akong role to help change the world (maybe I am like this because God has a plan for me. I have a role in changing the world).”
AN ONGOING STRUGGLE
The third of five kids, Liezel is the only one with an intersex variation in her family, which has always accepted her. And though she now wants to know her specific intersex variation, this is proving to be challenging, mainly because of the would-be costs.
For instance, when she inquired about the cost for an computed tomography (CT) of the abdomen, she was told she had to prepare from ₱30,000 to ₱40,000.
“Dahil sa socioeconomic problems, tinegga ko muna. Kasi after CT scan, meron pang other lab tests na gagawin para ma-clarify o ma-sure ang diagnosis. Good luck bulsa. Budget ang concern. Kasi ako’y isang breadwinner. Una muna ang family needs bago ang sarili (Because of my socioeconomic problems, I didn’t pursue this for now. Because after the CT scan, there are other lab tests to be done to clarify or confirm the diagnosis. Good luck to my pocket. Budget is the concern. I am also the breadwinner. So the family needs come ahead of mine).”
In truth, Liezel still doesn’t know her intersex variation. And so she self-diagnosed herself to have Mayer-Rokitansky-Küster-Hauser syndrome (MRKH). “Ginagamit ko, assuming lang, upon my research lang. Ina-assume kasi wala pa testing. Ipon na muna (This is what I use, only assumed, based on the research I did. I just assume because I have yet to be tested. I have to save money first).”
THE NEED TO HIGHLIGHT INTERSEX ISSUES
Now a part of Intersex Philippines, Inc., the pioneering intersex organization in the Philippines, Liezel is looking at the issues of the intersex community not just subjectively but also objectively. And she said that “these issues abound”.
For instance, based on her personal experiences with medical professionals, none knew of intersex variations. In her case, “basta sinabi lang ay (they just said it’s a) rare condition.” And for her, this is a bad thing because “hindi naman kasi (this isn’t) rare. When you say it’s rare, parang kakaiba (you insinuate it’s otherness). When you say it’s rare, parang mag-isa ka lang, wala ka kasama, wala ka kakampi (it’s like you’re alone, no one is like you, no one is on your side).”
Also, the centralization of services in Metro Manila is proving to be disadvantageous to those living in the provinces. Liezel, herself, had her initial tests done in Tuguegarao, and “the support there isn’t enough.” She particularly lamented “teaching doctors about intersex variations, when – to begin with – I went to them to know about my condition.”
And then there’s the still-limited services offered to intersex Filipinos, since – aside from their intersex organization – even government agencies are said to not do enough to help members of the intersex community.
IN SEARCH OF ACCEPTANCE
Liezel already experienced pain in loving because of her intersex variation. Though she thought she found love from a former close friend who initially said he was fine with Liezel not being able to bear his children, he still cheated with someone who would give him children. Perhaps sadder is the “acceptance” of Liezel that this is “understandable”, since “men are bound to go with someone who’d bear their kids.”
All the same, particularly now, Liezel is claiming power for being intersex. “Kahit meron ako condition, di siya nakaka-affect sa normal life ko. Di ko siya tini-take na disability or disorder (Even if I have this condition, it doesn’t affect my normal life. I don’t consider this as a disability or a disorder).”
And with this, she wants other intersex people to know that – if they still fear coming out – “take time to think because this will have effects on your mental health. Kung ready na sila, ready na tanggapin ang bashers and judgment, puwede na lumabas. Andito lang kami to help (If they’re already ready, ready to face the bashers and the judgment, then they may come out. We’re just here to help).” – WITH ARTHUR ABAD NWABIA
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.
