by: Rhian Tabuada
Publiction by: Yelena Fabricante

MOVIE: Paper Dolls

Within these city lights, I thrive and find freedom on the stage. Heavy makeup hides my face, yet I wear a bright smile, red lips stretching to my ears. In this crowd, I find my identity embraced, and I feel at home in their arms.

Poverty is no joke in my life. Every waking hour, I have to shrink back into the shell I once shed, the tight space crushing me deep inside the darkness, forcing my voice down until I am speechless. Yet, if it means I can help my family, I will endure the pain of hiding my true self, of who I am.

However, within the four walls that tower over me, there is a man who seems to defy the norm. Old man, why do you accept me? Your religion despises my kind, urging you to raise your pitchforks to drive us out as if we were witches, pushing us to the stake to be burned alive.

Your eyes, old and wrinkled, yet full of wisdom, may have once shown a flicker of hatred, but now you see me as someone. Gone is the time when you saw me as a spawn of the devil. No, you now see me as a human like you. I am your equal, but I never expected you’d call me your family.

I am truly honored. How I long to be with my own, but here, on the soil of a land miles from home, I find someone who can fill the void. In my eyes, you’re the second father I needed. And in your shoes, you look back at me with the same affection, as if I were your own daughter. Son. Child.

But fate is cruel to both of us. Now I am stripped of my title, my job. Kicked out, shunned, and returned to the soil I came from, with nothing but my clothes and the money I managed to scrape and save.

When will I see you again? Time flies. Even now, as I pick myself up and face my own patients–who now call me their nurse–I still see your eyes in them. I am no longer a dancer, but that doesn’t mean my identity has been taken from me. I am who I was meant to be, like a bird finally freed from its gilded cage.

I flap my wings against the wind, soaring over the horizon. But just know, if you’re still there, I will find you. And maybe, once more, we can be family.