The Character Called Erna Cabarrubias
By Mikael Rizada Borres
Trigger Warning: Self-Harm
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Part One: Honesty
To heavily borrow and rephrase what I once wrote in a Today’s Carolinian feature article: Many people say that “honesty is the best policy,” but that policy has yet to be fully implemented. Most individuals have had to learn the arts of backpedalling, conspiring, falsifying, double-crossing, and slithering to protect their reputations. If they fail to master these arts, they can always blame it all on the edit.
Erna Cabarrubias is one of the few souls in this world who have fully implemented the policy of honesty. She did not, does not, and will not have to learn – much less master – the art of deceit.
I asked Erna about the last time she lied. She racked her brain around to find an answer; she couldn’t find one. When people ask her who, what, where, and how she is, she feels no need to dither. The only thing she could find is her thought that lying is a way to cheat and rob yourself of reality. “I always tell the truth,” she told me when I asked what made her fascinating. “I see no point in hiding, even white lies.”
She does not, however, espouse herself as the paragon of virtue who declares pronouncements on those who wear the “liar” label as penchants around their necks. She understands that another person’s circumstances are too consequential to not consider when assessing their level of honesty. “Ganahan ko makahibaw sila na I treat everyone as people with stories. Di jud ko mu-judge ug people.”
(I want people to know that I treat everyone as people with stories. I really don’t judge people.)
“Everyone has dignity. They have their own reasons why they are, how they are, why they do, and what they do. I don’t have any expectations of you, guys.”
She does not require others to tell her the truth, but she does require herself to tell others the truth, or at least her honest opinion. “If people ask me, ‘OK ra ka?’ muingun sad ko ug, ‘No, di jud ko OK.’”
(If people ask me, ‘Are you OK?’ I would really say, ‘No, I’m not OK.)
The frank and direct answers Erna gives sometimes make her hesitate to say anything at all, especially when she gets asked about how she feels just off the heels of a struggle or argument she had, or when her mind is shrouded in some red mist. “For me, if naay hardship man gud, ang atong first na reaction is to be overwhelmed, to be upset, or to be overjoyed,” said Erna. “So I really acknowledge na fleeting ra jud siya [na thought]. It could last hours sad, siguro. Mao na, I tend to keep it to myself kay murag, para nako, dili siya worth sharing if naay touch of emotion, if overwhelmed pa kaayo ko.”
(For me, if there is hardship, the first reaction is to be overwhelmed, to be upset, or to be overjoyed. So I really acknowledge that the thought I have is really a fleeting one. I think it could just last for hours. That’s why I tend to keep it to myself because, for me, it’s kind of not worth it to share that thought if there’s a touch of emotion or if I’m still overwhelmed by the thought.)
She will indicate to those concerned about her that she is feeling some type of way, but that’s all the information she is willing to share. At most, Erna will share any negative sentiments only with her boyfriend, including sentiments about their own relationship. They have concocted a system they follow in case they argue, or when the red mist thickens to the point where they are not seeing straight. They will lash out at each other and say it all to each other when they fight. But when they feel that all has been said and done at that point, one of them can say one word: “watermelon.”
When one of them says “watermelon,” that signals to the other person that they should leave one another for some time. If Erna says – for example – “Watermelon. 15 minutes,” that means they shouldn’t be talking for around 15 minutes.
Part Two: Vulnerability
At the time of the interview, Erna and her boyfriend were a few months out after one of them said “watermelon.” She said it after a fight they had revolving around one of her most painful insecurities, which is her facial appearance. In that specific argument, she felt like her feelings about her looks were “invalidated” by her boyfriend. They have come to reconcile since that fight with the boyfriend acknowledging his fault, but the insecurity remains within Erna.
“I used to keep one, big-ass album of what I used to call my ‘face journey,’” said Erna, who then picked up her phone to look for the album. She only took photos of her face for the album, but she would rarely – if not never – have her face in pictures with her friends or family. She showed me a picture of her when she was a sophomore architecture student. The picture was poorly-lit, but one can see the abundant amount of acne on her face. She described it as the lowest moment of her self-described “face journey.”
She could not recall when that specific picture was taken (her best guess is that it was either during her run as a councilorial candidate for the University of San Carlos - Supreme Student Council or during her term as an elected council officer), but she knows that the anxiety about her insecurity began around her councilorial election run. As a candidate, she spent hours practicing and training herself for the campaign, writing her speeches and defending her platform to her political party’s bigwigs. She also had to attend to her coursework as an architecture student, having to invest her energy and time to finish her design plates on her drafting table at home after jetting in from school.
To her, the stress of the school election and the coursework made her feel like she neglected the state of her own face. “It got to the point na one day, like, ‘Mau na diay akong nawung?’” Erna asked herself at the time.
(It got to the point when one day, like, [I would say:] “Does my face really look like this?”)
She would sometimes wear a face mask whenever she went to school, beginning in 2019, a few months away from when everyone was required to wear them. “Maudto ko school, muinana akong friends: ‘Ngano nag-mask ka?’ Muana lang ko na, ‘Ay, libre man sa Angkas.’ Nay ma’y libre sa Angkas before.”
(I would go to school, and my friends would ask: ‘Why are you wearing a mask?’ I would reply to them: ‘Angkas gives them for free.’ This was when Angkas did give them away for free.)
To cope with how she thought and felt about her face, she went through other peoples’ stories on Reddit, reading about their experiences of grappling with acne and the lessons they have learned from their years of self-hatred. “Sigi sad ko ug pray na, ‘Lord, when man ko mu-glow up?’ Mga inana gani.
(I kept on praying, saying, “Lord, when will I glow up?” Kind of like that.)
“Naa ju’y time na mura’g na… trigger warning, but pag-2019, pag-Christmas, kay mura’g nag-harm na jud ba. I still have the scars right now,” Erna said as she rubbed one of her wrists.
(There was a time when… trigger warning, but in 2019, at Christmas, I was harming myself. I still have the scars right now.)
“Pag-December of 2019, nag-novena ko, ‘nag-simbang gabi’ ko 9 days straight,” she recalled.
(In December of 2019, I went to church every night for 9 days straight.)
Not only was it her most desperate hour, but it was also her loneliest hour. “Lisud gyud, lisud kaayo if naa jud ka’y insecurities, di kaayo nimo masturyahan to other people. Ingnun ra ka nila na, ‘Try facial’ or ‘Try kini.’
(It’s hard, it’s really hard if you really have insecurities, you can’t really talk about it to other people. People would just say, “Try facial’ or ‘Try that.”)
“I’ve tried!” she exclaimed. “I tried changing my sheets. I’ve tried everything, but it really didn’t work.”
Di na gyud ko ganahan sa akong nawung (I really don’t like my face). That line would haunt Erna during that Christmas, and it would still haunt her to this day. Although she has since found a facial skincare regimen that works for her, until now, she still lacks confidence when it comes to her face. “OK na lang ni [akong nawung] karon,” she remarked. “Bisan bati gihapon akong nawung karon, pero OK na lang ni.”
(My face now is OK. Even if it’s still ugly now, it’s OK at this point.)
When I asked Erna if she thought she was beautiful, she answered: “At this point, mura’g ni-accept na ko na di jud siya [beauty] appearance bitaw. Like, people can be so beautiful but corrupted, or kuan inside.”
(At this point, it’s like I’ve accepted that beauty is not about appearance. Like, people can be so beautiful but corrupted, or whatever inside.)
Part Three: Purity
Erna may think that she is unattractive, but she finds consolation in the idea that true beauty lies within her spirit and is not defined through superficial standards. She knows she is a good person, and that’s all that mainly matters to her now. “Beauty is purity,” said Erna. “It’s not aesthetics, it’s really purity. The beauty of being pure is maka-help ka ug other people heal. Maka-inflict ka or mura’g maka-inspire ka ug other people to be pure. Mura siya’g maka-gwapa sa uban.”
(Beauty is purity. It’s not aesthetics, it’s really purity. The beauty of being pure is that you can help other people heal. You can inflict or inspire other people to be pure. It's as if purity can make others beautiful.)
Erna’s level of purity, which also correlates with her level of true beauty, is exemplified by her capacity to help people in need. She sees her future self as someone who reaches out to make their worlds better or at least more bearable.
She was at her most beautiful when her heart’s capacity to help, love, and care was at its maximum during the aftermath of Typhoon Rai (more locally known as Super Typhoon Odette). She recounted how the calamity decimated parts of the residential compound her family and relatives lived on. “When Odette hit, side sa akong mama sa compound, ang nabilin ra kay ang ref,” she recalled. “Power plant sa akong dad, naguba sad.”
(When Odette hit, my mom’s family’s side of the compound, the only thing left was the refrigeration. My dad’s power plant broke too.)
For the month following Odette's devastation of Cebu, she led her family by helping them navigate through the days before some sense of normalcy came back. Her aunts and uncles could not drive around because the roads, blocked by debris, could not be driven on by cars. Only Erna, who can drive a motorcycle, could maneuver through the treacherous and narrow roads. It became clear that Erna was the only one who could manage the household since she was the person who had relatively more access to resources than her family and relatives.
“I kept the household running,” said Erna, who then shared how she would wake up every day and agonize over where to get water, food, sources of electricity for her family, and ways to withdraw cash. “Grabe jud to akong sacrifice pag Odette, para sa akong family.”
(My sacrifice for my family was really huge during Odette.)
She stepped up to the occasion, and looking back, she feels that the responsibilities she was burdened with were all worth it; helping others during that Christmas of survival was worth the toil. The inconvenience could not trample the paramount mindset that Erna had, which is that she should help given that she is able and willing to help.
With Erna’s heart that is willing to reach out to others to lend her hands, does that make her pure – and by extension, beautiful? “I still have demons inside me, but I try my best.
“I try my best to do the right thing. I swear. Even if it’s so hard, even if a lot of people will disagree with me, I do my best to do the right thing.”
Erna and Mikael held an in-person interview on Friday, December 2, 2022.
Recommended Song: The Most Beautiful Girl In The World - Prince
