I don’t remember you well, but I want to see you again.
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Published in
4 min read
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5 hours ago
I’m planning my wedding, and I’ve been thinking of her lately.
She’s my dad’s sister, so her name should be on the guest list — but I have no way of finding her.
No social media profiles, no instant messaging apps — my aunt has vanished, and my relatives can only speculate as to why. She is an enigma to me, and I only have the briefest tendrils of a memory with her.
I was twelve years old and visiting my relatives in Los Angeles with my dad. Aside from Disneyland, the other event I was most excited for was the premiere of the live action Bratz doll movie. Cheesy one-liners from my favourite dolls come to life spoke to my soul as a child.
My dad definitely didn’t want to watch this sparkly, girly movie with me in theatres, so my aunt volunteered to come with me. I didn’t know her very well since she lived in LA and we were living in Hong Kong at the time. So I was shy, awkwardly waving at her when she arrived.
I remember her towering over me, her immaculately manicured fingers caressing my cheek as she greeted me hello. I remember her long hair and that she had a deeper voice. I told her I liked her nails, as her nail polish glinted in the movie theatre light.
After sitting through what was likely a very cringeworthy kids movie for her, I remember her telling me goodbye, and that’s where any recollection of her ends.
It has been sixteen years that moment, and I haven’t seen her since.
Nobody told me she was trans. I had to puzzle it out, put two and two together. When I finally asked my dad about it, he confirmed she was trans but didn’t really elaborate further.
Even at the age of twelve, I could tell that her being trans was something to tiptoe around, that it existed but not really. In the Philippines where my parents grew up, members of the LGBTQ community were tolerated or downright scorned, rather than celebrated.
I wonder how my aunt felt, growing up with a devout Catholic mom and dad. The absence of her narrative gnaws at me lately, like a hole where a missing tooth should be.