The gene runs in the family, my mother tells me. There is a distant lesbian relative. Another one is gay. Both from the father side. While I always adhere to nurturing as reasons for deviation, the causes no longer matter. Time has caught up, society now tolerates preference.
My own journey was hard-fought, for there were no masculine gays during my awakening. All the out guys were flamboyant. Screaming fags, whose presence amuses the straights. I can take the credit for joining the revolution. For I was among the first of the anonymous who crawled out of the closet, and into the Internet I recognize the person I would become.
Ten years into the future and the kids of today are a little more open. Even the hypermasculine ones now show their faces; in their various stages of undress without the judgement bore by the men before them. And in this time and age, while real acceptance remains a distant dream, I am certain that tomorrow will be more gay, open, and the stigma, which my 4-year old nephew from the cousin's side will be short-lived.
"Ang kaso, hetong bunso eh lalambot-lambot." My aunt said the last time we talked.
"Alam mo na.." She then bent her arm backwards to show the gesture.
"Nabugbog nga ng tatay niya nung isang linggo." She continued. "Inapakan pa nga sa likod."
"Bakit daw?" I shook my head.
"Sabihin daw ba na babae siya. Hindi ko alam kung saan niya nalaman yun."
"Pero sobrang lambing na bata. Matulungin pa."
"Sabi niya sa akin, mag-aaral daw siya ng mabuti para di na kami mahirap."
Remembering the conversation one afternoon, while shopping for gifts for the brethren's children, I thought of giving the Grover shirt this Christmas as a succinct recognition of his gender choice.