To my queer, younger sister, 

I hope your heart heals from Cess soon. Because she was your first girl crush in high school, she felt like everything. I know how the memory of her etched itself into the soft parts of you, the parts still learning how to bruise yet already eager to believe. But no love can truly blossom if she chooses the comfort of her dogma over the courage to stand with you. 

You had always known she was religious, yet you still chose to love her, believing that maybe it would be enough to transcend her prejudices. You’ve always had a heart that holds on. I remember the night when you sought my advice. “Siya pa rin talaga,” you said. You knew she was stringing you along, but for you, all that matters is to keep the conversation going. 

Christmas came, and with it her guilt-ridden message. When the time to choose came, she couldn’t carry the weight of going against what her faith demanded. She told you outright that whatever ambiguous situationship you have can no longer proceed. Until the end of the year, you cried most days, rereading your conversations again and again. 

I promise you—she’s not the only woman you’ll meet. There’ll be others, some freer and more self-accepting than her. That’s the heartbreak of loving deeply in a world that’s still learning to love you back. Yet despite all these, you never falter. 

That’s what I admire about you. Even with a heart so tender, you don’t resort to passivity when the world pushes you to yield. You still wear your hair short, your voice remains steady, and you assert your freedom to love unconditionally. Mama still argues about your butch clothes, wishing you’d wear something deemed more feminine. Still, you walk out in that lumberjack plaid polo and black slacks anyway. 

There certainly is joy in living unapologetically. But sometimes, I can’t help but feel scared, especially with the SOGIESC bill still languishing in Congress and suffering in the chokehold of religious institutions. You fought hard for its passage and defended it even among our relatives with strong discriminatory beliefs. 

For all the tears you shed and the fight you advanced, I wish I had known all the right things to say. I still have a lot to learn and unlearn, but I’m listening. I want to be the brother who bonds with you about girls and shows up when no one else will.

I can’t promise love will come easily, nor will I be perfect along my journey. But I do promise I’ll be there both when your heart bruises again and when it is already being nurtured as tenderly as you do to others. 

Someday, someone will choose you over fear, over silence, even over religion. She will bravely stand with you, just as you have valiantly fought for yourself and your fellows. You deserve to be chosen, to be loved wholly and without apology. ●

First published in the June 28, 2025 print issue of the Collegian.