You're That Bitch: & Other Cute Lessons About Being Unapologetically Yourself

by Bretman Rock

People often ask me what my beliefs are, and the answer is simple: I believe in myself, duh!

the Aloha spirit, which is carefree, kind, spiritual, and peaceful.

I’m also that bitch every minute, meaning I’m always authentically me.

there are so many different sides to me.

I want you to learn how to stop and smell the flowers and just realize: Wow, I’m that bitch, too.

I was born to be beautiful.

"to be" not "I was born beautiful"

I’m actually glad I experienced being ugly, because now I know how not to look like that ever again. Being gorgeous has always been my destiny—it just took a minute.

My parents never walked in on me playing with dolls and freaked out like, “That’s for girls, bitch!” Nobody around me ever made a big deal about it—that wasn’t the environment I grew up in. My parents let me be me, because they saw a lot of both of themselves in little Bretman.

Something else I drew from both of my parents as a kid: being a bit of a rascal.

pay me to pluck out her white hairs.

LOL relatable

But she was the only person who never scolded me, and she always answered all my questions, no matter how stupid or annoying.

My grandma Lilang was the first person in my family to actively signal to me that it was okay to openly express my feminine side. I don’t know what the fuck I did to her for her to love me that much, but from that moment with the blush on, I felt like it was me and her versus the world. She was also the first person in my family to tell me it was okay to be gay—when our priest talked about how two men sleeping together was wrong, she’d lean over and whisper to me, “Don’t listen to him—he’s not always right.” Duh, Nana! I already wasn’t paying attention at mass to begin with.

One time I was eating a peanut butter sandwich, wearing a cute little red and blue jersey jacket with the letter B on it that my mom got me. “The B is for Bretman.” I beamed. “Are you sure it doesn’t stand for ‘baklâ’?” my uncle said, laughing. Baklâ is Filipino for “fag.” My dad picked up my sandwich and threw it at his brother. “Don’t ever call him that again!” he yelled. I really wanted that fucking sandwich, but it was so sweet of my dad to do that. It was the first time anyone ever defended me for being a flaming homosexual. And you know what? My uncle never called me baklâ again.

After that, if other people made comments about me being gay, I remember my dad would shoot back, “He’s gonna make me rich one day.” Such a cute burn.

Insecurity was something I never really struggled with because all that early support from my family kin...

There is so much power in acceptance. Acceptance created the bad bitch I am today.

That was the moment I realized you can do anything when you’re really feeling yourself. You can do anything you want when you’re a bad bitch.

I’ve realized that kapwa isn’t just your family and friends and human communities but also your relationship with the earth and everyone on it, living and nonliving things. I think, in order to find your inner bitch, you’re gonna need to be able to make these connections—to find that fierce energy within yourself, within other people and living beings around you, and channel that energy back out, in bigger and bigger circles of nurturing. You know, like you care about your family, and then you care about the environment that you’re in, and ultimately all of that care, love, and acceptance kind of cycles back to you. Period.

I can’t help who I am. I don’t think it’s possible for me to be any other way than “this.”

When you’re on the road, you kind of just pray you don’t get hit.

A very Filipino experience lols

No need to call social services, besties—in the Philippines, all children get their asses beat. Every Filipino kid’s worst nightmare is seeing a shoe, stick, belt, or slipper because you will get hit with it.

Again a vedg Filipino experience

“You eat until you’re full,”

I’m ashamed to say I succumbed to peer pressure more times than I want to admit.

there’s one thing about Filipinos, no matter what we’re going through, in general, we’re going to find the silver lining. Instead of complaining, we know the skies will eventually clear up and life goes on.

It was only when I moved to America that I saw so many distraught people all over the place. It was so weird to me, like Wow, what’s wrong with everyone? That was the exact opposite attitude to the one where I grew up. Where I come from, we’re literally always looking for any reason to celebrate.

Filipinos are very passionate people. Some might say we go a little too far.

Having a great time is a Filipino’s primary goal in life.

And I respect our traditions. The phrase I always heard growing up, especially when I heard my Tagalog friends getting scolded by their parents, was, “Aren’t you ashamed of what others will think?” Whether our parents know it or not, they taught us respect and humility really, really young.

We might live for the glamour of a celebration, but everything about Filipino culture is also designed to keep people humble. Especially the folklore. Adults used it expertly to keep us kids out of trouble. Like, if we were rowdy, or stayed out too late in the forest, or frolicked on the beach during high tide, our parents and grandmas reminded us about all the aswangs, shapeshifting mythical creatures that would get us if we weren’t good.

There was Manananggal, the aswang who severed her own torso, turned into a bat, and w...

Tiyanak, who disguised itself as a baby, and would eat whoever picked...

And the dreaded Tiktik, whose long black tongue slithered down chimneys, then ripped out and ate the fetuses ...

“Bretman, you know what happens when you fight girls, right?” “What?” “You’re going to start growing boobs.” Then I’d beat my sister up even more. Don’t threaten me with a good time, bitch.

America has a spectrum of racism, but the Philippines primarily has a specific version of it, what we call “colorism”; an internalized bias that favors lighter skin, which has been a thing pretty much ever since the Spanish explorer Magellan colonized our country in the 1500s.

Moreno, meaning browner or darker-skinned,

Being Moreno is considered not beautiful under colorism, while being light-skinned or Mestizo (mixed) and straight-haired is idealized and idolized.

maputi (light-skinned).

Blackface is still a thing on our TV shows, and it’s just not discussed back home. That’s the ignorance that I grew up in, and brought with me when I first came to America.

The only difference is, in the States, we are more woke about our racism—we mostly know it’s a problem. What sets the Philippines, and most other Asian countries, apart is that we still don’t see colorism as a problem. It’s not that nobody calls it out, it’s just hard to call out when a lot of Filipinos continue to lighten their skin.

think it’s v. important to stay connected to your roots, but at the same time stay open to the idea that maybe some of the old country ways and ideas and traditions can be super flawed, too.

Y’all don’t even understand how blessed you are to have skin that doesn’t burn when you go out in the sun. You get darker, cuz that’s just how much your skin loves you. Be glad you turn brown and not red.

learn your history, honor your traditions, but also keep your eyes and ears open for what maybe needs a little updating and zhuzhing up. And appreciate your uniqueness. We all don’t need to look like the same brand of white—we have to have diversity in this world, even if the media doesn’t celebrate it.

(Just not vagina. I’m no vagitarian. That’s one thing I’m certain of.)

My mom was fiercely loyal to her community and her neighbors, and that was returned to her. Not to mention that you can literally buy yourself out of anything in the Philippines if you have enough pesos. Even assault and arson.

I felt like the haircut was the universe telling me, “Girl, the dad you thought you had is gone.”

Stay calm.

That just escalates an already explosive situation.

Talk to people you trust.

Just because you saw something happen, that doesn’t mean you have to deal with it yourself, especially when you’re a kid. Find someone you trust who can help you ...

It’s all right...