Why do people hate coños ba? I mean, should we be faulted for being this way? It’s not like, you know, we’re menaces to the society right? Give us a break. The moniker itself is degrading. Eh you, would you like to be called a pek-pek ?
People kasi don’t understand how hard it is to be raised this way. Being raised by well-off parents, who themselves were called coños during their time, we were made to watch Sesame Street, rather than, what’s that show again… with the monkey puppet and turtle mascot… ah Batibot. English is the language we use at home. Even my yaya talks to me in English. Well, at least she tries. The thing is, being under her care for 14 years, I can’t help but acquire her Taglish. I guess that’s how the “make-tuhog-tuhog the fishballs” myth started. Blame it on our yayas. But did we think that it was absurd? No, because that was what we grew up to.
Going through grade school and high school, I met more girls “of my kind”. We talked pretty much the same way. In school, we were taught by the nuns to be this and that. Individualism was not highly encouraged. That’s why naman, my friends and I almost dress, act, and talk the same. Cliques were common. Almost everybody belonged to one. We called ours GI for Gorgeous Inc. Pathetic? Maybe. But we didn’t mind then. Moreover, I noticed that we didn’t use Filipino much in school. Hence, I still needed the help of a Filipino-English dictionary when I read Dekada ’70. Oddly, we studied Spanish, and yes, Latin.
Upon entering college, I must say I was na-culture shock. I had to learn to ride the jeepney to get around. At first I was shy to say “Para!” pa nga eh. Add to that, the awfully tight schedules which did not allow me to eat “real food” for lunch. So instead, I learned to settle for fishballs and the six-peso monay. But I don’t mind. I just hope Mommy won’t find out. Otherwise she’ll reprimand me for eating kalye food.
I wonder why people look at us differently. As though we belonged to a different species. Being this way, talking this way, dressing this way should not translate to being absurd. It just so happens that we were brought up this way. Should we be blamed for a past that we did not have a hand in? Being branded a coño is as much a curse as being branded a jolog. Being branded, per se, is upsetting.
I try. I try real hard to fit in. I just wish others won’t make it any harder. I hope others would take time to get to know the real me. Beneath these clothes, I’m just like everybody else. I bleed, just like everybody else.