So Racist? Maybe?

          I was on my way to ride a train where I would be fetching my mother. She was carrying a lot of luggage that's why she asked me to fetch and help her. As I was walking towards the station, I saw a man giving freebies. He was just standing there and not exerting much effort in dong his job. I approached him and asked for one. He gave me this:

Belo ad

          Belo is a name of a known dermatologist, that also has her own line of beauty products. The product that the guy gave me was a whitening soap. The ad's message was, "10% lighter. 100% more numbers."

           Now, I know what all of you are thinking. So, the ad's saying that if we have lighter skin, we'll get more phone numbers from girls? I mean, a lot of good looking guys really are "good looking" even though they have a fair complexion (just like me? HAHA). I personally think this might be offensive to people with darker complexion.

           This ad could've insulted and lowered people's self-esteem. Belo should think twice on the revision of this ad, AGAIN. Or else, Carly Rae Jepsen's song would've ended like this. "Hey I just met you, and this is crazy? I hate your dark skin, get whiter maybe?"

Where Am I?

Okay. This is my first post here at my blog. I have a lot of things in store for you. But first, let me tell you all about me through my 'literary piece'

             “Sige lang Ma’am, PUSH! (Go Ma'am, PUSH!)” From my current position, what I hear is that inaudible and fainted sound from outside. It’s hard to tell. I’m trapped inside somewhere dark, and somewhere hollow. It’s pitch black down here. I can’t feel anything but warmth, and big beats in ⁶/₈ swing rhythm on moderate tempo. It didn’t took long until the beat went faster, and faster — and FASTER. Noises from outside were getting louder and louder. As the beat went on, I didn’t notice I was slowly sliding and slipping away, like something is trying to push me outside where all those noises are coming from.  With all these happening, I think fate is going to be a little bit more creative than usual this time.

“Congrats Ma’am! It’s a boy!”

I tried to open my eyes but the light was just too bright for me to handle. When I had the chance to, I saw people wearing white masks. I could see they were smiling beneath their non-woven material masks. I started crying as I said to myself, “Where am I?”

            Oh, how I’ve grown so fast. Carrying a big and heavy backpack, climbing every step of the stairs to my classroom with my friends just up ahead greeting me a good morning, here I am now. Who? This boy is named Rhouel Vizconde Rallos. When? Year one thousand nine hundred and ninety-four, day 28 of the 10^th month, which is October. Born the same date as Bill Gates (believe me, it’s something to be proud of ‘cause most of the time you’ll think that you’d get rich just like him). What? Human. Son. Brother. Friend (and maybe someday, a grandfather). Why? It’s to prove something to them, and inspire them both at the same time. Who are those them you ask? It’s YOU.

It just seems like good ol’ fate introduced me to a different kind of world with words just too complicated for me to explain. It wasn’t as good as the old one, since most things I do back there are just lay back and ‘live’. Here, you have to move and do all sorts of stuff, like sitting down—right now. My elementary teacher came in, EPP subject (others call it HELE). I was seating at the right side of our room (the seats were arranged into a manner where there should be a large space in the middle of the room). Until the most awkward question in that current situation came, “Tuli ka na ba? (Are you already circumcised?)” At that exact moment, my heart stopped beating for a millisecond. I have to admit it, I’m a 5^th grader and I’m not yet circumcised. And looking at the other guys’ reaction to the teacher’s question, it looks like they already went through the process.

“What am I going to say?!” I said to myself, panicking.

I don’t want to be a laughing stock here for being such a ‘kid’. I don’t wanna live as a failure, or be uncool. I don’t want people to come at me and yell “SUPOT! ( a call name used by Filipinos on boys who aren't circumcised)” I DON’T WANNA BE A LOSER?

In the end, I gave up. I was weak. I felt depressed and sad. I really hated bullies. Even from the start (I thought bullies, racists, homophobes, sexists, et cetera, needs a little counseling).

“Opo Teacher? (Yes, teacher?)” I answered…

I passed the subject and graduated elementary without people knowing I was lying that day. And for those of you who might’ve been thinking, yes, right now I have already gone through ‘that’… Good thing there’s this thing called ‘high school’ where I can start all over again and try saving my life before it all sinks down like Titanic.

Or can I?

My first week in high school was worse. There’s this one girl who suddenly asked my name. She then whispers to her seatmate afterwards. “Niloloko ka oh? Ang pangit mo daw?” her seatmate said. Well, that was a good first impression? I know I’m not really handsome or anything, but that was just so rude for a girl that is not even really attractive to say that. And even if that girl was a beautiful celebrity, she can’t just go around saying harsh things like that.

I simply nodded, trying to ignore the girl’s rudeness and lack of kindness. I tried to not let it go over me too much, though I was REALLY struggling to.

Things didn’t end there. I was called all sorts of names. I was a weakling for having no skills at sports, at all. They think I’m not cool for being so fat, for not having a girlfriend and for wearing boxers “high-waisted”. Even some people’s insults also suggest me to consider having a nose job.

This planet is such a brutal world and in every single day of a teenager’s life, insecurity was inevitable. It was inevitable yet, can be controlled.

On the contrary, things weren’t really all downs because I had my big break when I was chosen to represent my school in an oratorical contest, emceed the Junior-Senior Prom, sang our graduation song, and graduated with “props”, which pretty much sum up my bucket list for high school. So I graduated high school, and I produced a lot more tears than expected. My high school friends are like a family to me since they’re the ones I could really talk to seriously, and those great moments were just priceless.

Time passed by and I seemed to have grown — both literally and not. This dude right here, has grown from the older dude whose name happened to be Rhouel and happened to be a sore loser. I’ve been getting more fit than before. ‘Cause from the boy who used to wear XL Shirts, I’d say his shirt size isn’t getting any larger (he used to be a large, then medium and now wears small-sized shirts). To tell you the truth, I still am a loser. But I’m trying my best to step up my game. Since now I’m best friends with “Society”, I think I know all the rules and how the game goes.

Right now, as I am typing this article, I finally realized the real reason why I existed in this world; why every person in this planet has been given birth and; why most of these things seemed to be a nightmare. I’m not going to tell you anything. But instead, I leave you this note:

Hey kid, where are you, you ask? You are in an ugly society. That society just made love at a motel called planet Earth. An accident happened and they had you as a result, a sore loser. Don’t worry, everybody else is. That’s why I’m giving you this mission: Grow. And don’t let yourself go all the way down. Everything depends on you and on what you do. Live. Dream. Inspire. We all start as losers, and our goal is not to remain one. I know it’s hard but it’s worth the hard work—all of it.

Your loser,

Rhouel Vizconde Rallos