To which my mother’s family 
thinks they are advising,
“huwag yan,
hindi ginagamit yun,”

“yun,” referring to 
my father’s family tongue
as if it isn’t a 
proper noun,
as if it isn’t worthy 
of a
name.

To which my tito
adamantly

lowering his voice
in the way that is 
supposed to imply 
assertion because he
is the he
and he is the 
elder
which are all  
assumptions I
despise:

states,
“Tagalog, 
‘to yung opicial language 
sa Pinas.
Yung lolo mo
galing sa Batangas,
Yung lola mo
galing sa Bulacan,
lahat namin
Tagalog,
lahat namin
Manilenyo.”

To which I respond:
pisting yawa talaga
each syllable firing more
force than the pistons 
in my impatient 
leaded mouth:

gusto kong mosulti Binisaya,

this is my birthright
in my broken pronunciation
skittering across accents
pressing within me,
regret burning from the
realization of lost years
my lola’s voice scolding,
gahi, Nana, gahi

dili 
ko taga 
Manila
because
I feel more close
to the sea.
I see my lola
and her sisters,
those three
loud, proud Marias, 
and I beam:

Ako ay Cebuano,
ug ang akong sinultian

matahum.
Note: Translation available here
Keana Aguila Labra (they/she) is a published, Best of Net nominated Cebuana-Tagalog Filipinx poet, reviewer, and editor in diaspora residing on stolen Ohlone Tamyen land. They hope to foster a creative safe space for under-resourced and underrepresented communities with their online magazine, Marias at Sampaguitas. They're the author of two books of poetry: Natalie (Nightingale & Sparrow, 2020) and No Saints (Lazy Adventurer Press, 2020.)
header image:  Brett Jordan via Unsplash