BCC Shines a Light On: Gretchen Filart

Name of the piece published by BCC:

Buscalan and Scars of Happiness

When/where was it originally published:

This was originally published on my previous website, Our World in Words, on October 11, 2016.

What is the background of the piece? What led you to write it? What’s your process?

This piece was a more in-depth, personal version of a travel essay I wrote for a newspaper here in the Philippines months prior. That essay explored more about the place, the people, and the history behind the precolonial tattooing tradition of batok, which remains with the indigenous Butbut to this day, in a mountain village called Kalinga. It was one of few tattooing traditions that is, fortunately, not erased during the Spanish colonization.

However, I wanted to expound on the personal why, the story behind why I decided to embark on a 14-hour trip to Kalinga (plus a sweltering noon trek up to the village) to get a batok. So I wrote the story on my website where I’ve been storing personal narratives since 2007.

It was inspired by a letter to my daughter, written during a 2 am drive stop en route to the village. I explained to her why it matters to me to get “a new wound over an old one” and let “scars breathe anew.”

Many of my stories and poems begin like that: as letters to her or others, an urge to connect with someone or to bathe in a feeling. I guess that’s my writing process: A feeling arrives, and I let it speak messily, incoherently, unashamedly, without judgment. No outlines. The editing and thinking happen much later. This piece is no different.

I am a sucker for satisfying endings. By that, I don’t mean happy or sunny, but rather, just, honest, bearing a certain duality. So half the time, I begin a piece by envisioning the end, which is how this story started. I knew I wanted it to end with that Palahniuk quote from Diary, about the myth of “no scars for happiness”. I started from there and worked my way backward, the piece commencing with an old scar during my volatile years, followed by the letter to my daughter.

How did you feel when it was first published and how have your thoughts or feelings on the piece changed from then to now?

It was nerve-wracking to hit “Publish”! I haven’t talked about self-harm prior to this piece. After that, a writer friend intimated, “I don’t think I could bare myself like that. It’s so raw.” For the longest time, I’ve so been introverted and conflict-averse that I tend to keep everything in. I had so many untended wounds, yet even to those closest to me, I can’t bring myself to say, “I’m shattered. I need help.” 

So, that astounded me when I realized “Yeah, I allowed myself to be deeply vulnerable there.” It was jarring but liberating, because I reserved vulnerability for my journals until my early 30s. 

A few now regard me as “a confessional writer” – sometimes I wonder if I’m overcompensating for the lost decades. LOL. But for the most part, I am also very grateful for the healing journey since I first wrote the piece to here. Vulnerability is like a drug once you embrace it. It mends, not just us writers, but others who are unable to speak their truth, too. It’s such a gift to meet people who say, “Thank you. This made me feel seen and heard.” Don’t we all want that? To be heard. For our unseen parts to be seen. To know we’re not alone in this shitty, oft-helpless world. To be in community with others.

Is there a specific message you'd like readers to take away from reading this piece?

Every reader interprets and takes away something differently. I’ll let them decide what that is. 

Where can readers find more of your work? (Website/social media, etc)

I’m on Twitter, Instagram, Bluesky, Tiktok, and Facebook as @gretchenfilart. They can also find my works at gretchenfilart.com. Hit me up! I’m usually friendly 😊