religion and me

living in a religious household is probably one of the major things that has made me who I am today. if I could make a timeline and pinpoint what really made me think the way I do, act the way I do, i could safely say that my father being a jehovah’s witness has been a major foundation for who I am.

after all, I learned how to read by reading the bible. my family always reminds me and others all the time that the first real word I read out loud, was “Nebuchadnezzar” (the ruler of babylon) – sounded out slowly syllable by syllable at the age of four or five, during a bible study with my family.

I would attend jehovah’s witness meetings with my family, fitted in pretty little pink dresses, sitting on my dad’s lap, raising my hand to answer questions about the bible. I would go door to door with my dad, carrying watchtowers, and would eventually tell my dad, “I want to be a pioneer when I grow up.” Pioneers are those folks who become basically full-time door to door folks and make it their career to “spread the word of God.”

but I didn’t become a pioneer. what happened?

well, I got older. I started making friends at school. I got invited to birthday parties I couldn’t attend. I couldn’t join clubs afterschool, because I was supposed to go home and study the bible. But the older I get, the more I realize maybe it wasn’t so much my dad being religious that kept me from being more involved with things – I think my dad was just straight up strict. plus a jehovah’s witness, which didn’t help.

and then I started noticing that my mom – who was not a jehovah’s witness, but a catholic sprung from a family of devout catholics – would attend the Sunday meetings with my dad and my brothers, but I noticed there was something missing with her. She would dress us up for the meetings, attend on Sundays, say amen to prayers that my dad would say at the dinner table. But it all seemed empty.

And I too started feeling that vacuum inside – the feeling that these religious routines were becoming habit, not devotion; as I would read passages from the bible during meetings, my mind would wander. or I would think, so what, if the bible says this? why is this the ultimate source of knowledge? and if my mom is catholic, does that mean she’s goin to hell? does my dad care if she’s going to hell?

I also remember waking up one night, as a teenager, to my mom sobbing… I remember it was around the time that I was applying to colleges, and my dad wanted me to go to UCLA and stay home, and my mother wanted me to go to berkeley. I went to my parents’ room to see what was up, and I heard her speak between her sobbing: “I’m sorry, Lakay (Ilokano term of endearment meaning “old man”), I just can’t. It’s just not me… That’s not the way I was brought up..”

I knew right away what they were talking about. My dad had always wanted her to become just as devout a Jehovah’s Witness as he was. To him, he was spreading the word of God and because he loved my mom, he wanted to my mom to be the same and reap the same benefits that were promised in the bible. But she couldn’t – because it just wasn’t her. And I knew that it wasn’t me either.

And so I went off to college, and I developed strong beliefs, developed into a strong-minded, independent young woman. In my rhetoric classes we critiqued the idea of Adam and Eve from a feminist perspective; I participated in rallies and protests; I voted; I had sex!; I participated in all these activities that I couldn’t or “shuoldn’t” have done under a household of Jehovah’s Witnesses. And it felt good.

But then I would visit home. And somehow, I would become that passive, I need to meet my dad’s expectations, person once again. I wouldn’t discuss what I was learning in college. I wouldn’t speak of the relationships I had. And to this day, I still hold back on a lot of things – I don’t discuss sex, let alone, staying over Patrick’s place in the bay, with my folks. I don’t discuss my strong beliefs about homophobia or politics at the dinner table. When it comes down to it, I pretty much think I’m a coward when it comes to me being honest with my folks – my dad especially -- about who I am and who I’ve become.

I think since I was a little girl, I noticed the joy that my dad would have when I met his expecations, albeit very strict expecations. And I noticed how deeply my dad was hurt when my oldest brother told him that he didn’t want to be a jehovah’s witness anymore (although now, he’s back to being one). I watched my dad bow his head into his hands and cry like a baby that day; and my mom simply just shook her head in silence. I’ve never been good at handling conflict with my family – and I’ve internalized a lot of guilt for transgressing my dad’s beliefs over these years. But I’ve also internalized a lot of guilt for not being honest with my family or, more importantly, myself.

When I’m with my friends and at work, I pride myself for being an honest person, always keepin it real, to the point where I tell my own students one of the best qualities you can have it to be honest. But I’m a hypocrite when it comes to my family. At 26 years old, it’s something I’m continually dealing with.

So what’s this got to do with me today? Patrick’s moving to L.A. (yay!). And we’re thinking of moving in together. And we want to discuss it with my folks. Everytime I think of the idea, I get a swirly feelin in my stomach, and I yet again become that passive little girl trying desperately to not conflict with daddy. I can already see my dad bringing out his bible, whipping to a specific page, and telling me that it's a sin , it's fornication, to do what we're doing. BUT. If patrick is going to make that big leap to move down here, the least I can do is just suck it up and be a fucking woman and be honest. And truth is, I want to live with patrick. and if my parents don’t approve, why should that stop us? but at the same time, I don’t know how this transition to L.A. is gonna be for patrick, if there’s this discomfort of my family being uptight about things… because the one thing I really want is for patrick to like it (maybe love it?) when he’s here. AHHH,,, it’s all really frustrating… BUT I’ve made a resolution with myself that this is the time to stop fucking being a hypocrite and a coward, and grow up. grow up and be honest. with others. and myself. Because after all, that’s all we can really do. The rest will just follow…