FEATURE | Spectrum of Colors: The Unknowing Radiance of its Hue of Color...
๐๐๐๐ง๐จ๐ฅ๐ | โ๐ฆ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ฐ๐๐ฟ๐๐บ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ผ๐น๐ผ๐ฟ๐: ๐ง๐ต๐ฒ ๐จ๐ป๐ธ๐ป๐ผ๐๐ถ๐ป๐ด ๐ฅ๐ฎ๐ฑ๐ถ๐ฎ๐ป๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐ถ๐๐ ๐๐๐ฒ ๐ผ๐ณ ๐๐ผ๐น๐ผ๐ฟ๐
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โ๐๐ฏ๐ฆ ๐ธ๐ณ๐ช๐ต๐ฆ๐ณ'๐ด ๐ซ๐ฐ๐ถ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ฆ๐บ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ณ๐ฐ๐ถ๐จ๐ฉ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ฑ๐ข๐ช๐ฏ๐ง๐ถ๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฆ๐ด ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ด๐ค๐ฉ๐ฐ๐ฐ๐ญ๐บ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ญ๐ถ๐ณ๐ด ๐ต๐ฐ๐ธ๐ข๐ณ๐ฅ ๐ด๐ฆ๐ญ๐ง-๐ข๐ค๐ค๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ต๐ข๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฅ ๐ฒ๐ถ๐ช๐ฆ๐ต ๐ณ๐ฆ๐ด๐ช๐ญ๐ช๐ฆ๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ.
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โ"๐๐ข๐ฌ๐ญ๐ข." "๐๐ข๐ฅ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ." "๐๐ข๐บ๐ฐ๐ต."
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โThose are some of the first words people used to describe people like me. Not my name. Not my dreams. Just labels spoken with laughter, disappointment, or disgust. They echo through school hallways, social media comment sections, family gatherings, and even places where I thought I would be safe.
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โI remember teaching myself to be tougher because others would tell me "๐ฃ๐ข๐บ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ๐ข๐ฏ๐จ ๐ฎ๐ฐ ๐ฉ๐ช๐ญ๐ข๐ฌ" โ to make myself smaller lowering my voice or forcing my voice to be deeper because once they hear me speaking normally they would say "Ngi bayot man diay ka" ; to think twice before expressing myself. Not because I wanted to, but because I was afraid of becoming the next joke in the classroom or the next topic of gossip.
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โThere were moments when people laughed as I passed by. Some would imitate the way I spoke. Others would tell me, "๐๐ข๐จ๐ฑ๐ข๐ฌ๐ข-๐ญ๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐ฌ๐ช ๐ฌ๐ข," or tell me to say "๐ญ๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐ฌ๐ช ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฐ" or ask, "๐๐จ๐ข๐ฏ๐ฐ ๐ฎ๐ข๐ฏ ๐ฌ๐ข ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ-๐ข๐ฏ๐ข?" I smiled as if it didn't matter, but the truth was, every comment stayed with me long after everyone else had forgotten it.
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โI even learned just to laugh at jokes that were meant to humiliate me. I smiled when classmates mocked the way I walked. I stayed quiet whenever someone said, "๐๐บ๐ข๐ธ'๐จ ๐ฑ๐ข๐จ๐ฃ๐ช๐ฏ๐ข๐บ๐ฐ๐ต," ๐ฐ๐ณ "๐๐ช๐ฏ๐ฅ๐ช ๐ฌ๐ข ๐ต๐ถ๐ฏ๐ข๐บ ๐ฏ๐ข ๐ญ๐ข๐ญ๐ข๐ฌ๐ช." I told myself I was used to it. But the truth is, no one ever gets used to being treated as if they don't belong.
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โThe hardest part wasn't always the insults. It was wondering if I would ever be accepted for simply being myself. There are days when I question if I should change the way I speak, the way I dress, the way I walk, or even the way I existโjust to avoid another insult. I've been called "๐ฌ๐ข๐ฅ๐ช๐ณ๐ช," "๐ข๐ฃ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ฎ๐ข๐ญ," "๐ด๐ข๐ญ๐ฐ๐ต ๐ด๐ข ๐ฃ๐ข๐บ๐ข๐ฏ," and told that I would "๐ฎ๐ข๐ด๐ถ๐ด๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐จ ๐ด๐ข ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฑ๐บ๐ฆ๐ณ๐ฏ๐ฐ" simply because of who I am. Imagine carrying those words every day while still trying to believe that you are worthy of love. No one should have to question whether they deserve respect or they deserve love just because of who they are.
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โThe bullying, discrimination, and slurs I experienced and heard every single day doesn't always leave bruises that people can see. Sometimes, it leaves anxiety before entering a classroom, fear of introducing myself, and the constant worry that I will never be accepted. It is the loneliness of feeling like I have to prove that I deserve the same respect others receive without question.
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โBut despite of everything, I am still here.
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โI am more than the names people call me. I am more than the stereotypes they believe. I laugh, I cry, I dream, and I love just like everyone else. My identity is not a mistake, and my existence is not a burden. I should not have to earn the kindness that every human being deserves.
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โThe sun does not choose who is worthy its light. It shines on everyone equally. ๐๐ญ๐ญ ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ด๐ฑ๐ฆ๐ค๐ต๐ณ๐ถ๐ฎ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ค๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ด ๐ฉ๐ข๐ด ๐ต๐ฉ๐ฆ ๐ถ๐ฏ๐ฌ๐ฏ๐ฐ๐ธ๐ช๐ฏ๐จ ๐ณ๐ข๐ฅ๐ช๐ข๐ฏ๐ค๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ช๐ต๐ด ๐ฉ๐ถ๐ฆ ๐ฐ๐ง ๐ค๐ฐ๐ญ๐ฐ๐ณ๐ด. Everyone deserves sunshineโincluding people like me, who have spent far too long walking through storms we never chose.