FIRST FILIPINO TRANSGENDER CHIEF ENGR SHARES HER GREATEST LOVE
VALENTINE’S Day in the 21st century usually evokes images of love-struck couples, of men bearing gifts and of stores bursting with modern “symbols” of affection — flowers, chocolates and teddy bears.
Such expression of love is the same for seafarers whose job entails a long-distance relationship (LDR) for about a year or more; hence, it is the typical concession of sending material gifts to their loved ones back home.
Then, there are different situations for seafarers who identify as members of the LGBTQ+ community.
A case in point is Aljon Asusano, the first transgender chief engineer in the history of Philippine seafaring.
AJ to her friends and Dyosa Makinista to her mates, the young chief engineer enjoys the same excitement and frustrations brought on by LDR, only in her case, such love must remain private, away from the discriminating eyes of the public.
Asusano does not mind, though. The sparkle in her eyes and the firmness by which she shared their Romeo-and-Juliet kind of relationship suggests a sensible perception of what is to come and her fortitude to embrace the unpredictable.
What makes Asusano different is not her gender identity in a macho industry or the torment it caused her amid a ship full of men. It is the intensity of love she feels for one person that a mere mention readily breaks her into tears — her mother, Nancy.
Asusano always knew she was gay and fortunately for her, her family and community in Famy, Laguna, were welcoming. She had to hide this, however, when she entered the Maritime Academy of Asia and the Pacific (MAAP), a prestigious maritime school with a regimented form of education in Mariveles, Bataan.
“Right on the first day, our heads were shaved, and we were made to undergo severe exercises. It was difficult for me, and all I can remember are a few random things — the blinding rays of the sun, an explosion of water, terrible exhaustion, and finally, wanting to quit.
“That’s when I saw Mama, standing on the bleacher with other parents. She was frantically waving a red handkerchief at me. She was crying.” Asusano’s firm voice trembled as she broke into tears.
“Everything flashed back to me. Mama selling random merchandise in Manila and sending us groceries in Laguna from whatever little she earned. Then she’d sleep in the bus station until dawn when she could go back peddling on the streets. There were days when we had nothing to eat, and we had to study by the streetlamps. It was a hand-to-mouth existence, but Mama raised all five of us brothers, sacrificing herself in exchange for our welfare.
“When I saw her weeping and waving at me that day, I decided right then and there that I would never, ever quit. For her. For all of us,” Asusano said.
Luckily, Asusano learned that MAAP does not discriminate.
“Our president, Vice Adm. Eduardo Ma Santos, is such a good leader. He accepted us as who we are. They changed my life; in fact, it was in MAAP when I first had a good and sumptuous meal,” she said.
Reality unfolded for Asusano on her first shipboard deployment as an engine cadet. She was treated inhumanely for nine months by vicious “macho” crew members. She was insulted, degraded, threatened and bullied.
She endured verbal abuses and humiliating insults. Some days, Asusano would retreat in the safety of the engine control room where she could eat a piece of bread in silence.
“Then I would remember Mama. Of the days she spent under the grueling heat of the sun, hungry, with no place to sleep. I knew her hardships, and I would never want her to struggle again. I only want a comfortable life for her and my brothers. I want her to be proud of me.”
Today, Asusano continues her life at sea, still with the extra effort of showing her prowess as a marine engineer. And while she has already received her license as a chief engineer, she admits that discrimination, albeit minimal, is still present onboard ships.
“Yes, I am gay. But this does not limit or define me. I am a human being with lofty dreams for her family. A person who surrenders everything to God.”
And in her silence, Asusano radiated her truest character — a person whose love for her mother rises above pain and despair. It is an all-consuming, soulhealing, out-of-this-world kind of love.