Kilig

I grew up as a mutt in the Philippines. My day-to-day conversations were a mix of 5 languages: English and Mandarin in school, Fookien to my grandparents, Bisaya to my grandmother, and Tagalog to everyone else. I realized there were some words I could say in one of these languages that would take stories to convey in another. Kilig and hugot are two of them.

Kilig is the feeling of butterflies in your stomach the first time your crush asks you out to dinner. It’s the rush of blood to your cheeks when a stranger comments on your outfit. The warm fuzzy feeling when your favourite love song starts playing.

Hugot is the longing you feel for that almost maybe relationship. That feeling the night after your last breakup when you put on all the latest Ed Sheeran songs. The sense of loss from growing distant with a best friend. To hugot is to draw out a feeling from deep in.

Kilig is lightness. Hugot is weight.

There are hundreds of associations I can convey to another Filipino with just one of these words. I could tell a friend: “Hey, I felt so kilig when she gave me those flowers.” Boom. He instantly knows I’m at that early butterfly-in-stomach, rose-coloured-glasses phase of a situationship.

To lose kilig and hugot would have meant losing a way of understanding how the people around me think. Here’s another example: My language, Tagalog, has the word “po” at the end of every sentence. It doesn’t mean anything except to signify that the person you’re talking to is of higher stature than you: they’re older, your boss, or own more Lamborghinis than you.

Po signals the underlying power gap that permeates Filipino culture. Try coming to your friends house and say “Hey Karen!” to his mum. You’ll get the passive aggressive version of being slapped in the face for disrespect. Remember, it’s always “Hi auntie” or “Hi uncle” with them (with a po at the end of every sentence of course, lest you be called arrogant for thinking you’re better than them).

Knowing the word po makes all these social dynamics clearer. You realise that of course someone will think you’re arrogant for not being extra deferential. It’s been ingrained in them since birth.

Kilig and hugot are some of the many wordsI’ll never be able to fully explain to a non-Filipino. They encompass the experiences and meanings that melt away when I don’t have the words for them.

I’ve thought a lot about how to explain why I am the way I am to close friends. Sharing words like this has been a fun, small step towards becoming fully knowable. I’ve realized though that sharing these, like sharing many of the experiences that have shaped me — are ultimately steps towards a non-completable task.

No one will ever know you as deeply as you know yourself. And there’s beauty in that.