A room of one’s own, again: Reclaiming queer spaces

This might be hard to believe but after my last breakup, I became allergic to sunsets.

Sunsets have a lot to do with how I view the horizon and where I live. I live in a mid-rise building where the living quarter’s highlight involves having huge picture windows. My unit is located on the side of the building where the sun rises at the far right and, even if one can’t see the sun directly setting, the horizon manifests the beautiful colors of the setting sun every afternoon.

Inside my unit, I could stare endlessly out the windows during sunset. Sometimes, that is just what I do, actually. Stare endlessly, while letting my mind wander, my feelings float around, my sentiments hover. It was a good and peaceful setting.

Until that breakup.

Unlike in the past, I would have living spaces shared with girlfriends, temporary ones we would rent for the duration of the relationship. It was only a few years ago when I was able to urge myself to get something more permanent, a definitive room of my own (or maybe a living unit is more like it). I guess the decision came easier to me since I was single and I wasn’t being bothered by the U-Haul syndrome.

Until she came into my life.

This girl inconspicuously came into my life at a time when I needed her. Even if we were figuratively worlds apart in terms of life exposures and experiences, I wasn’t one to throw an opportunity out the window when it presents itself at my door. Love is always a gamble anyway and I always held the belief that win or lose, it is always better to try betting. Life is short; go play.

So gamble I did. Between the two of us, I was the one who fared better in life, and I ended up inviting her to live with me. For almost two years, she was a constant presence in my life and in my living space. Things weren’t always peachy but no relationship is perfect anyway. We had lots of plans like any couple out there, until one act marred everything and the relationship instantly crumbled.

It came at a weird time. I was staring out the window, resting that afternoon with a book, waiting for the sunset, when she came home and declared the bad news, which in turn led to our breakup. I was staring at the sunset then, inside my unit, my living space, my current sanctuary. The bad news and the sunset didn’t go together very well. After a few days, she moved out, and was gone from my life. After a couple of weeks, I became allergic to sunsets and staying inside my living space during sundown.

Several friends offered words of wisdom and extended much-needed help during that time.

“Why don’t you try rearranging your furniture? Redecorate? So that your unit will have a new look.”

“Do you want to stay in our family’s beach house in Pangasinan for a few days? I’ll check to see if it’s available.”

“Why don’t you go home to your parents’ house for a while?”

“You want some company over there? I'll bring isaw.”

I am such a lucky person to have such offers of comfort during times of grief.

But one such conversation with a good friend and mentor struck me the most.

“Hey Shy, you think I could hide out in your father’s beach house in La Union for a few days? I just want to forget this for a while, leave Manila, you know?” I had made the same request to her before, but for different reasons. And she always obliged, to my gratitude.

But this time, she said something that struck me. She was also undergoing her own grief, dealing with the death of a relative. I asked her if she would be pushing through with her planned out-of-the-country sojourn, and her answer illuminated my grieving soul.

“It’s hard to travel for me during this time. Yes, you are escaping the pain, the grief, by being in a new place, preoccupying yourself with things to see and all that. But what happens when you return?”

That hit home. Yes, what will indeed happen? Often, when a relationship fizzles, we move away. But if we don’t have the chance to change living quarters, how can the process of moving on be speeded up? I really wanted to know.

“That’s why you have to deal with your current space. Deal with what happened right then and there. Conquer it. And re-conquer all the places that you two shared before. You can’t escape all the time. You just have to reclaim these spaces as yours.”

Reclaim. That has been the word of the year for me, since last year. And that has been the project since last year, up to today.

Reclaim. I avoided going to the nearby malls in our area where my ex and I used to hang out and watch movies or eat at places. My mom took care of that. Make new memories, this time with other people, to dislodge old memories you once had of the place when you were there with your ex.

Reclaim. Two new friends wanted a laidback beach getaway for one weekend, and I only had one place in mind for that: San Juan, La Union. So we hopped on a bus, took loads of pictures within two days, and soaked the sun and sand while exchanging stories about our lives. Share new stories with new people in a place where you once shared a kiss during sunset with your ex.

Reclaim. Twice, my ex and I briefly spent time in Baguio, a pivotal place for lovers here in the Philippines. We were there with friends and advocates to celebrate the kind of queer love we all support. This city up in the northern mountains has had endless reinventions of meaning for me when it comes to dealing with my own experiences of queer love, and it was indeed better to revisit it recently with someone whom I treated as a good friend, a kindred spirit, a beautiful soul whom I love, and who also sees and treats me the same way I do her. Even if our friendship and our love will soon get cut off by time and distance, it was still a worthwhile trip to make better memories with better people.

Reclaim. All I had to do whenever I got home was to think that I got that place solely for me. No, I never had to rearrange the furniture, buy new decorations, or perform strange cleansing rituals with incense or candles. Nothing in my home reminds me of her, and everything in it reminds me of me. That should always be the key to reclaiming one’s space.

Yes, so far, it works.

Libay Linsangan Cantor is a media practitioner, a film school professor and a Palanca-award winning fictionist. You can email her at leaflens@gmail.com. She blogs at leaflens.blogspot.com and leaflenspopmedia.wordpress.com.

Photos by the author, courtesy of leaflens.blogspot.com. Some rights reserved.

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