"¿Por qué?" I heard a shrill voice shout as the heavens bellowed with their thunderous roar with all their might.

A middle-aged woman with gray hair that seamlessly blended with her darker locks that were elegantly poised in a rosette-shaped bun emerged from the staircase. Her stern face was marked by aging lines, made more apparent by the obvious look of worry enveloping her entire face.

Her worried look turned into a suspicious one, and she fanned her embroidered white fan as her gaze shifted from me and back to the young woman again.

"What is going on here, Segunda?" she asked incredulously while looking at me. "Why are you wandering around the house with just your undergarments on? ¡Qué horror! Get dressed! We do not want people to think of you as an immodest lady who choose risque and indecent clothing!"

The old lady pulled my right hand and made me stand up. She was coaxing me towards a room across the staircase, right on the other side of the hall, when the younger woman stopped us.

"I-ina, wait! This is me, Segunda. Not her."

The middle-aged lady dropped my arm. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted, her stern face now in horror as she looked at the girl, dressed in the same fashion as hers–in camisa and a multi-layered brown skirt made of silk.

"¡Mi hija! It is you, indeed! But who is this mujer that looks a lot like you?"

"I-I do not know, Ina. S-she came out of nowhere and fell onto me," the younger lady stammered.

"Who are you? What do you want from us?" the middle-aged lady said as she shielded the younger lady from me. She then ran towards the altar and grabbed a golden crucifix etched with intricate decorations. The lady trembled while placing the front side of the crucifix in front of me through her outstretched hand, creating a space between them and me.

"I-I don't have any ill intentions," I said, trying to sound as harmless as possible. I raised my hands in surrender, and I was about to open my mouth when the woman aimed the crucifix at me, more forcefully this time.

"Listen, diablo! I do not know exactly why you took my poor daughter's likeness, but I would never allow you to harm her, especially not in my house!" she said as she pushed the crucifix directly on my face, making Jesus' head and my nose only at a distance of a hair strand. "Diablo, begone!"

"P-Please calm down," I said, still raising my hands in surrender. "I-I am not a diablo. I am human, just like you. See, I am not hurt when I hold the crucifix."

I held the crucifix and tried to lower it, but the middle-aged lady yanked it back up.

"I-I'm Katherine. K-Katherine Dimayuga. You may call me Kaye," I said in the gentlest voice I could muster, still holding the crucifix. "Manang Ana asked me to come inside–"

The middle-aged lady did not let go of the crucifix, but her face softened as her eyes showed a hint of recognition of Manang Ana's name.

"Oh, Ana and I came to an agreement a few days ago through correspondence," her horror-stricken face turned into a look of disgust with a hint of concern. She tried to regain composure by straightening her clothing as she commanded me to place the crucifix back on the altar.

"You must be so scared, my poor child. You were left here by your family all alone, and were then sent to an unknown land," she tried to act concerned for me. "Then on your journey towards here, you were even attacked by tulisanes who stole everything from you, even your dignity. I pity you, and the heavens also pity you. But we cannot do anything but weep at what happened to you."

She paused and looked at me. I think she was gauging if I was pleased with her concern. I felt nothing, and I made it look obvious with my actions.

"What do you mean? They aren't undergarments," I answered as I glanced at her daughter from the corner of my eye, who was wincing, probably from her mother's ludicrous actions, while fidgeting with her religious scapular.

The middle-aged lady stopped her pretend cry, her face now contorting to disgust.

"What did you say?" she said as she raised her left eyebrow and fanned her face furiously. "I never knew your kind mother had let you spend so much time with the indios," the middle-aged lady spat, with special emphasis and added disgust on the last word.

"You bring shame to women like us who strive for modesty in our every movement to embody the teachings of the Holy Church! They lump us with you, but we are not like you. Kami ay hindi nakakacasuklam!" +

As confused as I was, I felt my blood boil at how this lady looked down at me. I mean, sure, my oversized plain white shirt sometimes conceals my shorts. But this does not make me an immodest woman, and I maintain my dignity wherever I go.

And what was her problem? Calling other people indios as if she herself is not an indio? I know that indio is a slur Spaniards used to call Filipinos back then. But she is not even a Spaniard–she looks nothing besides being a Filipino! What, with her brown skin and a wide nose? Her slightly slanted eyes may indicate that she probably has Chinese blood, but she is still nonetheless a Filipino.

"What's wrong with being comfortable in the way I dress?" I challenged her, trying my best to remain calm despite the surge of anger I feel in my veins.

The lady looked at me in disbelief.

"Segunda, go to your room," the lady demanded, which made Segunda scramble from where she was standing. I refused to say anything as I watched them.

"You ought not to hear the scandalous way that this mujer is talking back at me. You also should no longer see her risque and indecent clothing. I will deal with her insolence, but kindly pray for the indulgencia of the soul of this mujer."

Segunda left, but I could see her from the doorway, trying to eavesdrop on the conversation while pretending to pray.

"You dare wear clothing that reveals all your skin and even call your mother as manang," Segunda's mother said as she circled around me, eyeing me from head to toe.

"While you came from an esteemed family, your parents seemed to be too neglectful not to teach you the right manners. Bueno, be grateful that I am merciful and provident. As long as you are with me, you will be clothed, fed, and taught the right way a lady of our status should act."

_____

+ Note on the dialogue: This references Fr. de Castro's remark on women's clothing in Spanish occupation, in that women should wear tapa pecho ó panakip sa dibdib or they will look nakakacasuklam; from Stéphanie Marie R. Coo. Clothing and the colonial culture of appearances in nineteenth century Spanish Philippines (1820-1896). History. Université Nice Sophia Antipolis, 2014. English. ffNNT : 2014NICE2028ff.