Fridae

Some of us have secret identities. For most who do, they create an alter ego of themselves -- brought out through Internet chats, eye ball parties and other activities such as email and Internet dating. What the majority doesn't know is that some of us in our own circle of sorts do it out of a real need to remain incognito, a secret and sometimes even a lie.

We, make versions of ourselves. Not all do this because a number have outgrown and outdone their own insecurities, come out in the open and dared to be different. Like those left in the darkness, only willing to "come out" in obscure places like cyberspace and underground gatherings, I was forced to create a different me for different occasions.

It is a game of "pretend," we put on a mantle, a cover, some make-up and our best smile. I used to feel that each time I stepped out, I had to give a winning performance. A show that would make people believe, for that day that everyday, I was straight.

The ordeal was daily, the fa�ade was a natural addition to my everyday routine and I would almost willingly succumb to its inevitable consequences. Guys asked me out on dates left and right. Some were probably curious as to what I was all about. I never flirted with the boys in the office, that just didn't feel right. Nevertheless, they tried to figure me out, something none of them was ever successful at doing. Sometimes I actually wondered what attracted them to me, was it my looks? Personality? Smile? Or the mystery behind my love affair with solitude? The latter probably, and I don't blame them. I like the feel of mystery too, it makes me excited, expectant of some superlative discovery or grave disappointment.

After 5pm, I pack-up and leave the office. Leaving wasn't the best part of the routine, it was those get-togethers in friends' houses that was the lifeblood of my day. There we strip ourselves of all pretences, laugh out loud when we want to, giggle at the hopeless nutcase romantics who thought they were in love with us when we knew that it was the intrigue that surrounded our persona that made them pursue their quests in vain, we enjoyed the evenings with ease and relaxation. We were backstage. We were real people here, no lies, no secrets, just womyn loving womyn and no less than that.

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Aside from the office, my house was the main stage and my room, the dressing quarters. Family members would constantly ask about my plans to get married and have kids. At certain times, I would mislead their suspicions by dropping names of guys in the office or talking about my latest "date" with this "man" I met at a bar when in fact I was really talking about a woman. They can't tell the difference through my stories, I just changed the "she" to "he" and everything was "normal."

I was quiet about the reality that surrounded my truth. For some time, I was content with these versions and roles I played on a constant and everyday basis. I thought I was protecting myself from discrimination and a possible lifetime of isolation from my family and peers but little by little I felt urges to break out of the darkness and be a real part of everybody's world.

I will never live happily if I constantly hide from the "real world." I was living in a box, unable to freely express myself in the open and unable to appreciate things that happened outside of my circle of safety.

I desired to be free.

I started slowly. I stopped hiding too many things about me. Little by little, I dressed the way I wanted to, stopped fabricating "male love interests" and started being more open about my sexuality to my peers.

It wasn't so hard and because of the support of my friends and some relatives, I knew and felt that one day no matter how long it would take, the pretending would stop.

It hasn't stopped just yet. I am not even half way out of the darkness, but now I can see the light at the end of the tunnel.

Fire is a twenty-something writer-entrepreneur who's also one of the founders of INDIGO Philippines. You can reach her thru firewomyn@iname.com