Wrote a simple Filipino poem during one of our GMF sessions on Freire. I can't remember the particular triggers, but in an instant, I was again grieving. It's primarily written in Tagalog, one of the major languages that make up what we call "Filipino." On the other hand, because of my volunteer work in ethnically rich Mindanao, I've become fond of some vocabulary words from other native languages. Hence my use of the word kapoy, a Bisaya word for "tired." Bisaya is primarily spoken in the Visayas region, the various island groups that make up the central part of the country. And because of shared cultural ties and migration, Bisaya is also widely spoken in Mindanao, the sourthernmost group of islands.
And so I again wonder about the need to "be" and to thrive in honor of one's vocation, and in honor of loved ones, whether those who are "fully present" or departed ones. Despite a seemingly lasting exhaustion. Perhaps, there will always be this meaningful tension. --- Medyo heart-tired. Ikaw ba? Quite heart-tired. How about you? Medyo pagod. Kinda tired. Paano ba ‘yan, habang buhay mananatili ang pagmamahal na ito? How can this be, that this love will remain for a lifetime? Nakakabigla minsan. Shocking at times. Kailangan 'di iiyak - ‘wag muna. Necessary to not cry - not for now. Adulting ang tawag dito. Adulting is what this is called. Compartmentalization. Compartmentalization. Pag-uusapan daw muna si Freire. Someone said we have to talk of Freire first. Baka kahit papaano, may kalayaan dito. Maybe even by a margin, there is freedom here. Pero *pagoda talaga. Still just really tired. Kapoy kumbaga. Kapoy [Tired] basically. Ito lang kaya ko sabihin sa Bisaya. Pero ok lang ‘yan. This is the only thing I can say in Bisaya. But that's ok. Ano pa ba dapat sabihin bukod sa wala na siya? What else should be said but the fact that she's gone? -- *pagoda - a slang play on the Tagalog word pagód which means tired
0 Comments
Context: This is the second part of "Mahabang Hugot." In Filipino, mahaba is the adjective form of "long," while hugot is slang that can be figuratively translated as "a rant from the inside." Like the firs part, I wrote this as a reflective take on why Filipinas/nos should vote for the entirety of our ethnically diverse nation. As I initially posted this on Facebook and in Filipino, it's therefore a relatively "long rant." Personally, it was timely that as our nation was undergoing its national rollercoaster ride during our May 2022 national elections, I was in the middle of my GMF journey. I was trying to navigate myself within the multiplicity of truths and injustices my nation was struggling with, in addition to trying to remain sane amidst the violence of divisiveness and populism. My piece entitled "When Love Becomes a Choice" published on my Facebook page last 31st of May is actually my final and third "long rant" regarding the elections. Though I see the differences in how I process my thoughts and feelings prior to and as we wrap up our GMF journey, Facebook is my main medium to share about my reflections as it remains as one of the fronteirs in our battle for democracy and truth. In connection, I'm still yet to finish Paulo Freire's Pedagogy of the Oppressed. One thing that I truly enjoy from him though is that true "radicals" are those who end up really with the people. Basically, radicals are the antithesis of secterianist and populist actors. "Mahabang Hugot Part 2" seeks to at least give a glimpse to some of the most horid injustices against Mindanao and Moros, or Filipino Muslims based in Mindanao, the southern group of islands of the nation. It is in remembering our history and building our common humanity across regions and borders that we'd be closer to emancipation. There is neither love nor compassion in collective ignorance and superficial safety. Mahabang Hugot Part 2: For Loved Ones Mahabang Hugot Part 2 of 2: Para sa Mga Minamahal *Trigger Warning - The words and sources used can be quite graphic as these narrate some of the violences experienced under Martial Law, especially in Mindanao. But it is necessary to go back to history. A Meaningful and Freeing Ramadan and Holy Week. *Trigger Warning - Medyo graphic ang mga salita at sources dahil nilalahad ang ibang mga karahansan sa ilalim ng Martial Law, mas lalo na sa Mindanao. Pero kailangan balikan ang kasaysayan. Isang Makabuluhang at Mapagpalayang Ramadan at Holy Week. -- I think it's timely to write this simple "letter of love and loss," not just because of the upcoming #2022Elections, it is also because it's #HolyWeek wherein Christians are being called to reflect, and above all else, it's because it's the Holy Month of #Ramadan for our Muslim sisters and brothers [1]. It's really timely to reflect on the past in order to be more aware of the present. Napapanahon para sa’kin maisulat ang simpleng “liham ng pagmamahal at kasawian” na ito, hindi lamang dahil malapit na ang #Eleksyon2022, dahil din ito ay #HolyWeek kung saan tinatatawag ang mga Kristyano magnilay, at bukod sa lahat, dahil Banal na Buwan ng #Ramadan ng ating mga kapatid na Muslim. Napapanahon talaga ang pagbabalik-tanaw sa nakaraan upang maging mas mulat sa kasalukuyan. Just like any other Filipino, our Muslim brothers and sisters have their right to be listened to, and to be included within the political discourse. Despite their active participation, we are unable to notice this in our everyday lives in the Philippines, especially in NCR (the National Capital Region). During 2018-2019, I loved and was loved immensely in Tawi-Tawi when I crossed paths with my Moro friends and students. I came to realize the simple expresison of love through presence and trust. And other than siyanglag [2] and mounds of delicious food, cups of hot sweet coffee; I was full of care, laughter, and the breathtaking sea, and stories shared under the stars. Kagaya ng sinomang Pilipino, may karapatan ang ating mga kapatid na Muslim na mapakinggan at isali sa politikal na diskurso. Bagamat lubos ang kanilang pakikilahok, hindi natin ito nararamdaman sa pang-araw-araw na buhay sa Pilipinas, mas lalo na sa NCR. Noong 2018-2019, nagmahal at minahal ako nang lubos sa Tawi-Tawi nang makadaupang-palad kami ng aking mga kaibigan at estudyanteng Moro. Mas namulat ako sa mga simpleng ekspresyon ng pagmamahal sa pamamagitan ng presensya at tiwala. At bukod sa siyanglag at katerbang masasarap na pagkain, tasa-tasa ng mainit at matamis na kape; binusog ako sa aruga, tawa, nakakapigil-hiningang karagatan, at mga kwento sa ilalim ng mga bituin. Other than these, I came to realize my responsibility as a member of "Imperial Manila" - one of the heirs of imperialism within the nation, especially during Martial Law by the former president Ferdinand Marcos. I was shaken when I found out about the truths regarding the massacres that happened during Martial Law of the late dictator, in addition to the fear of Moro communities during the reign of former president Gloria Arroyo. How come these barely reached most of us here in Metro Manila and into the history books of our schools? Bukod sa mga ito, nalaman ko ang aking responsibilidad bilang isang miyembro ng “Imperial Manila” – ang isa sa mga tagapagtaguyod ng tradisyon ng pananakop sa bansa, mas lalo na noong Martial Law ng dating pangulo na si Ferdinand Marcos. Nangyanig ako nang malaman ang katotohanan tungkol sa mga massacre na nangyari noong Martial Law ng yumaong diktador, pati rin ang takot ng mga Moro na komunidad noong panahon ng dating pangulong Gloria Arroyo. Bakit halos hindi ito nakararating sa karamihan sa amin dito sa Metro Manila at sa mga history books ng ating paaralan? But just to focus on the Martial Law under Marcos Sr., these are some of the massacres that happened. I might not be able to put in how many have been killed so that the numbers wouldn't be the primary basis (at times we forget that each number stands for a priceless life), just kindly click the sources in this post. - 1986 Jabidah Massacre, Corregidor - 1974 Malisbong Massacre, Sultan Kudarat - 1977 Tictapul Massacre, Zamboanga City - 1983 Tong Umapo, Tawi-Tawi; etc. Pero para lamang sa Martial Law ni Marcos Sr., ito ang iba sa mga massacre na nangyari. Hindi ko man malagay kung ilan ang pinatay para hindi naka-base sa numero lang (minsan nakakalimutan natin na bawat numero ay mahalagang buhay), paki-click na lang ang sources sa post na ito. - 1986 Jabidah Massacre, Corregidor - 1974 Malisbong Massacre, Sultan Kudarat - 1977 Tictapul Massacre, Zamboanga City - 1983 Tong Umapo, Tawi-Tawi; atbp. There are many different forms of "conquest" and killings against the Moro. We also have much to learn about the vile killings against our Lumad sisters and brothers in Mindanao who continue to stand up for their community and the environment. Marami pang iba’t ibang uri ng “pananakop” at pagpaslang laban sa mga Moro. Marami pa tayong dapat matutunan din sa karumal-dumal na pagpaslang sa ating mga kapatid na Lumad sa Mindanao na patuloy din na naninindigan para sa kanilang komunidad at kalikasan. I might not come from elite nor political circles, but ever since I cried and dearly loved Mindanao, I knew that it came with a certain responsibility as someone who loved my community in Mindanao. This is because I long to go back to Mindanao at the right time, and because there is no scarcity of kindness and beauty in Mindanao, along with our Muslim and Lumad sisters and brothers. I came to understand that #NeverForget and #NeverAgain against the Marcoses is not a hate campaign. Not forgetting and the continued fight for truth is one way of honoring the departed heroines and heroes [3], and asking forgiveness from the generations who have been slain under Martial Law whom those in power forcefully try to forget. Hindi man ako mula sa kampo ng mga elitista at politiko, mula nang napaiyak ako at lubos na napamahal sa’kin ang Mindanao, nalaman ko na may nakaakibat na responsabilidad sa akin bilang isang taong nagmahal sa komunidad ko sa Mindanao. Ito ay dahil ninanais ko makabalik sa Mindanao sa tamang panahon, at dahil walang kakulangan ng kabutihan at kagandahan sa Mindanao, kasama na ang ating mga kapatid na Muslim at Lumad. Nalaman ko na ang #NeverForget at #NeverAgain laban sa mga Marcos ay hindi hate campaign. Ang hindi pagkalimot at ang patuloy na paglaban para sa katotohanan ay isang uri ng pagpupugay para sa mga yumaong bayani, at paghihingi ng tawad mula sa mga henerasyon na pinaslang sa ilalim ng Martial Law na pilit kinakalimutan ng mga makapangyarihan. Apart from these, if I were to keep quiet, how would I be ever able to look my former students and friends in the eye? My conscience can't take it and like I've previously posted - one cannot stop one's self from being good, even if it were difficult, once one has loved. And I still love them, and I'm still truly grateful to all of them. Bukod doon, kung mananahimik ako, paano ko matitingnan sa mata ang mga dati kong mga estudyante at mga kaibigan? Hindi kakayanin ng konsensya ko at kagaya ng naunang post ko – hindi pwede pigilan ang sarili maging mas mabuti, kahit mahirap, kapag nagmahal. At mahal ko parin sila, at lubos parin ako nagpapasalamat sa kanilang lahat. I am also putting this here as I am coming to find out that though many Bangsamoro youth remain strong against histrocal revisionism, there are others who are forgeting already. Other than that, there are still many coming from NCR who have a narrow view towards Mindanao. Nilalagay ko rin ito dahil nalalaman ko na kahit maraming mga Bangsamoro youth ang nanatiling matatag laban sa historical revisionism, may mga ibang nakakalimot na. Bukod doon, marami parin sa NCR ang makitid ang tingin sa Mindanao. This 2022, it is now evident that even powerful clans in Mindanao who could have been expected to fight for historical justice and true healing healing in Mindanao are ready to forget the widespread killings during Martial Law under Marcos Sr. Why? Because of the establishment and/or acceptance of the "UniTeam" alliance. Ngayon 2022, lumabas ang katotohanan na kahit ang mga makapangyarihang angkan sa Mindanao na aakalain ay ipaglalaban ang historical justice at totoong paghilom sa Mindanao ay handa kalimutan ang malawakang pagpaslang noong Martial Law ni Marcos Sr. Bakit? Dahil sa pagtatag at/o pagtanggap sa alyansang “UniTeam.” This 2022, may our prayers and votes be for the entire nation: Mindanao, Visayas and Luzon. With sincere listening, questioning and solidarity with those who are struggling and thirsty for justice, we would be able to see that the first step for a more humane, more loving and inclusive elections are #NeverForget and #NeverAgain. Ngayon 2022, nawa’y ang pagdarasal at pagboto natin ay para sa buong bansa: Mindanao, Visayas at Luzon. Sa tamang pakikinig, pagtatanong at pakikibahiga kasama ang mga mahihirap at uhaw sa hustisya, makikita natin ang unang hakbang para sa mas makatao, mas mapagmahal at inclusive na eleksyon ay ang #NeverForget at #NeverAgain. Sources: VERA FILES FACT SHEET: Palimbang massacre and Marcos’ other transgressions against the Bangsamoro 11,103 Documentary Trailer 11,103: Kuwento ng Malisbong Massacre Rappler: At least 23 dead in Jolo Cathedral bombing ABSCBN News: 2 dead, 4 hurt in Zamboanga mosque blast Translation notes:
[1] Muslim sisters and brothers - I opted to translate it this way but the original Filipino is "kapatid" which is a gender-inclusive word for "sibling" [2] Siyanglag - Fried grated cassava with coconut, an alternative to rice which is a staple especially in the north [3] Departed heroines and heroes - Translated it this way but the original Filipino is "mga yumaong bayani." Bayani is the gender-inclusive word for "hero" I wrote this piece to process my recent fieldwork to Manila North Cemetery, one of the oldest and biggest cemeteries in Metro Manila. Despite the resilience of urban poor communities who have either "chosen" or were forced to make a living in the cemetery grounds, I was primarily bothered by the overwhelming injustices that plague us - the supposedly "living." What are we to make of the fact that we're so transient yet undeniably called to do what we can for a more just and loving world? Memento Mori. Remember Her. We should think of death more often. What's more humbling than to know that however old we’d get, or how high up the ladder we’d go, we will still spend most of our lives “dead,” or on the other side of Ether? Of course there are still possibilities of nothingness and reincarnation waiting (depends on who’s doing the existential questioning). We celebrate or mourn our years away, all but a fragment of the life-giving yet unforgiving wonder of the cosmos. Personally, I believe there’s “Something” waiting on the other side. If not, what else are we to do with the gut-wrenching beauty of this Design? Or the stubbornness of Love within and beyond lifetimes? Personally still, I wonder if I’d ever reach that state of Grace: to welcome Death as my supposed Sister? In about the right number of years, all grand mausoleums and modest markers long to crumble into dust – just like the bones of their supposed owners. Who then owns in death and who was owned in life? And our love story, seeming so unconventional, is but a repeat and reversal of those who’ve gone ahead. Love echoes, you see. It refuses to be original – It refuses to be mortal. One would think the unpredictable finiteness of life makes it evident: Live now. Love always. Forgive. How can we leave spaces of indifference and limit our lives to temporal and yes, selfish safety? It’s because we’ve forgotten Death. And in return, turned our back on Life. My exploration of self and reclaiming of my respect for my natural rhythms is a simple yet undermined treasure. Especially as I tend to be more of a “human doing” than being most of the time. One particular term I tend to encounter a lot because of our usual obsession with physicality and standards is being a “late bloomer.” But then who sets the standard of time and success?
Who’s an early, on-time and/or late bloomer? Who gets to decide? On my end, I’ve realized that to me, being a late bloomer is not just because I compare myself to external and colonized standards, but more so because I am yet to fully look within. Thus, my inability to fully bloom or thrive. Yet on the other hand, even if I’m yet to fully dig within, can it ever be too late? How can purpose and self-realization ever be subjected to our limited understanding of time? And so with my current practices of prayer, silence, emotional processing, journaling, exercise and sleep – and the intentionality to keep these bodily/spiritual rhythms in sync, I find these steadily taking on a more positive note in my life. For me, these are not so much as necessities as compared to rituals. Rituals that provide both routine yet vast spaces of appreciation, reflection and recharge. Among other aspects in life, I’ve found my views and feelings about mental health to be in flux. Growing up in the Philippines, there’s truly no shortage of resilience – though there is much to contest about what “resilience” really is, especially at the absence of dignified living and compassion for some. Due to our seeming obsession with “resilience,” it’s not too hard to understand how we end up ridiculing those who struggle with mental health concerns. I also think there’s a national allergy against introverts. We tend to find it weird if people tend to authentically enjoy solitude and alone time. These labels and concepts, though possibly limiting, are at the very least, helpful to put in a few names to identify, questions, deconstruct and reclaim.
We were requested to organize a session on “contesting counseling” and again, flux. It was only recently due to a lot of necessary adulting and grieving that I’ve come to a whole new appreciation of mental health and counseling. To “contest” counseling seemed as if I would have to invalidate the ongoing progress that I’m experiencing, especially as I tie my lessons from counseling and exploration of holistic health as foundational to a more compassionate and less judgmental stance towards my own healing, in addition to the injustices I witness due to my advocacy work. Feelings of hesitation, defiance and exhaustion always seem to plague me when I feel those that are life-giving to me seem to be challenged. How have I ended up to be this resistant and insecure with my personal realizations? Where’s my supposed adventurous self? On the other hand, there’s this gut feeling telling me that as certain as there are neither perfect models nor methods, than perhaps there is something within the realm of mental health and counseling that ought to be contested? Perhaps there is an area within these vast realms that have been hijacked or perhaps due to our capitalist systems, monopolized and commercialized? We were able to invite two counsellors to serve as guests. I have met them due to a twist of fate and advocacy work. For the “twist,” it was because of the passing of my Mother that I was able to explore grief counseling with Tita (term of endearment that means “auntie”) Myr. On the other hand, because of feminist identity and human rights work, it was not too long before I came across a passionate group of young feminist peer counselors of whom Janine was one of them. Getting to engage Tita Myr and Janine with my other GMF Fellows and Dr. Nat, my hesitations of questioning counseling were channeled into gratitude. How did we again end up here, in this online safe space of encounter? How did we end up surviving our own experiences of death, disenchantment and cynicism – though barely breathing at times – yet still want to learn how to heal with others through encounter? There was really a sense of wonder for me on that day. The emphasis on co-journeying, love and mission for Tita Myr made it all the more evident that despite the gnawing pain of lifelong loss, grief – at the right time – begets life. At the end, what is grief but love in all its stubbornness and wonder, even at the seeming absence of the beloved? And from Janine: solidarity and care. Feminist counseling names the injustices, and requires counselors to become advocates. Care is both pleasurable and inseparable from activism. Otherwise. how would feminist advocates be any different from the patriarchal oppressors they seek to challenge and strip off their oppressive powers? With these alternative forms of counseling, I’m all the more aware how there is much meaningful work within the realm of health and counseling. In particular, that there are those who seek a psycho-spiritual and empowering framework within this realm. As I continue my training as an upcoming feminist peer counselor, and reflect on my experiences as mental health first responder, I hope to write more on these unexpected movements in my life. Like with other life surprises, being a peer counsellor a fruit of my ongoing journeying as an advocate who seeks to be in solidarity with those who are hurting. It’s June! Happy Pride!
Being female and coming from a lower middle-class family from a developing country that is painfully aware of its supposed place in the global food chain, privilege is not something I’m too used to. Except for the immense privilege of being loved by my family, I realized one "privilege" that has bestowed me my own share of comfort and “borderlined” my sense of compassion is being a cisgender female. Basically, my assigned female identity at birth and my identity as a woman are “in-line” with how mainstream society views these two together. Indeed, I was spared from all the unnecessary questioning of why I liked certain men, and chose to wear dresses or skirts on certain occasions. However, I do get questioned or am thought “unique” as I irregularly wear masculine/rugged attire in between, have almost zero knowledge on make-up, and tend to exhibit my own set of “intimidating” and supposedly “masculine” traits. But it’s Pride Month! So let’s stick with that. Being a millennial cisgender female (I only got to learn to specifically identify myself as this recently), I could more easily afford to associate myself with more “liberal” ideas about LGBTQIA+ compared to older generations. Despite being a human rights advocate, I was not too disturbed to consider LGBTQIA+ concerns as a main part of my life as an advocate. In the Philippines too, there are many external expressions of sexual orientation, gender identity and expression (SOGIE) that to an average heterosexual, it could easily seem as if we’re already “liberated enough.” But “enough” is problematic in a supposedly discerning world. Have you ever felt yourself having to contend with certain forms of injustices not because these evidently speak to you, but because you seek to honor loved ones and Love itself? My continuous questioning and growing determination to assert “Love Is Love” is because of these two things: because of loved ones, and because of having loved. On the easier part of the story or the latter concept, once love is experienced – that kind which seeks to accept the brokenness of the person and prioritizing her/his welfare over personal gratification – one cannot help but be more compassionate towards those who have felt, discerned, and intentionally acted on love, even if to pursue the beloved is to open up one’s self to all forms of questioning, scalding judgment and even isolation. On the harder part, this part of which I would have to write because of my direct experiences with loved ones, I have realized that I have to further grow within this realm of advocacy because I’ve repeatedly witnessed the cruelty of a supposed “human(e) society” against LGBTQIA+ friends. And to the shaking of my core, the three most major incidents in my life are tied to suffocating and rigid view of Christian Scriptures and faith practice. In sum, I’ve been touched by the wounds and good works of three beautiful souls who are in defiance of the binary: a lesbian, a pansexual, and a bisexual. All three identify with being born female, but do not fall within the my mostly accepted category of cisgender female. Being a practicing and questioning Roman Catholic Christian, I too remember how I was almost “lost” from the sheepfold. For a time, I was drawn towards a another supposed denomination that erringly values “spiritual prophecies and ecstasies” over the true prophetic call of engagement, which is simplified to denouncing all forms injustices; while announcing the Good News of God through healing, kindness and love. I was only drawn in gradually back into my faith as I learned of the how God is without a doubt, passionate about our everyday struggles of belonging, justice and love. God is Love. Hence, God is Freedom. As a feminist, Catholic, Filipina, cisgender woman and eco-social justice advocate, I honestly ought to be shaken more. All these frames point to a “bias” for questioning and liberation despite irregular exhaustion due to everything being in flux, and the constant state of existential crises the world is in. But then until when and where? I’ve been exploring “agency” recently in terms of both work and processing sessions with friends and fellow advocates. What has caused so much misplaced dedication in some to limit the discernment and human(e) agency of others in terms of what are some of the most sacred to them: their identity and their object of sincere affections? How can we think that despite our evident limitations and heterosexual privileges, that we ought to serve as the standard? How can we stand up for our individual right to be and to love, while denying others who do not fit in our mold? How can we be so certain that God who Is Love, share in our eagerness to condemn the other? How can we ever box the Love of God so easily? All these questions, coming at a relatively late time within my life, I find to be unexpectedly relevant to my soul-searching and path-seeking. I have no idea how I'd tie these up with my life's unfolding ways and legacy. At times, it frightens me how all these inquiries and realms are so vast, in addition to the tension that to take on too much might limit my ability to be present. Where is that sweet spot of breadth and depth, especially for a broken dreamer like me? But as I find myself disturbed and heartbroken for my friends, especially with how I know one of my friends has passed away in part due to systemic violence against LGBTQIA+, I am certain there are points of encounter I need to experience with those who stand by the truth that Love Is Love. And if you're considering this realm too, or are already well immersed in it, please do let me know! <3 We need everybody in the struggle for a more inclusive, compassionate and loving world. Have you ever felt your heart tired? Just exhausted with loving and caring in this world that seems to be in a lasting state of existential crises?
The concept “the gift or power of naming” has always intrigued me. My initial encounter with it was in J.K. Rowling’s Harry Potter. Then re-encountering the theme ever more magically in Ursula K. Le Guin’s Earthsea, readings in feminist theology and now, in Paulo Freire’s Pedagogy of the Oppressed. The power to name is supposedly empowering. I think it still is. But it’s such a burden too at times. To be able to name things for what they are gives you all the more reason to face them: injustice, betrayal, sacrifice, grief, despair, absence, theft etc. Death. Memento mori. And so, what now? What now when you have an indefinite number of days in life, inherited the wounds of generations past, and possibly unknowingly compromising the future of generations to come? And with all this struggling comes the banality of everyday survival: of having to lose a bit of your fire in order to participate in age-old systems. Because as much we’re against them, there is still dignity in the everyday resistance of just existing. Ignorance is bliss. To name is to contend with reality, not to be content with it. A tired heart is inevitable – and perhaps, necessary. Why does it have to be though that our very tiredness and finiteness be the groundwork for true emancipation? Why does tiredness and finiteness have to be necessary to make the choice to love all the more richer? Why would each of us, as little as we are, need to make such important bets (pagtataya) with implications across borders and generations? In the ongoing struggle, there is both pain and dazzling light. We call it the refiner’s fire Context: I've written this as a simple reflection, and as an expression of resistance on my Facebook page. I write there mostly, and in Filipino, in order to be more accessible to everyday social media users, especially as this platform is a primary ground for both fake news peddling and political discourse. The elections in the Philippines point to a struggling democracy and state of values. GMF is an avenue that allows me to be more humane in my processing and be reaffirmed that we truly have to go beyond class struggles. We're all wounded. So what now? We do our best to choose love. We do our best to choose compassion. --- When love becomes a choice… I barely wear pink, thinking it “too girly.” And though I had issues with Disney’s Aurora from Sleeping Beauty, I preferred her wearing Merryweather’s blue version of her dress [circa 90s lol]. Anyways… I got to wear pink on special occasions like on my 7th birthday [See my cutie yet awkward photo lol]. Childhood can be both a spectacular and/or traumatic experience. Now as a peer support volunteer and human rights advocate, I get to see how a loving childhood is a crucial foundation to so many things: the ability to love in a freeing way; the ability to make courageous decisions albeit fear; the ability to move forward albeit the figurative yet gaping holes in the heart, especially after the passing of loved ones. Gratefully, despite having a rough school life, the best perk of my being a kid was getting to receive love abundantly. Now, being way older and approaching 30, I got to wear pink again – and again, for a special occasion. And yes, it was to campaign for a certain group of leaders/politicians. Others do not look positively on this and with valid reasons, being so jaded with systems and politics. But you see, we cannot limit our everyday efforts and belief in what is Good and True to our private lives and intimate circles. We all work hard and do our best – but we can dream bigger and include those who have been forgotten. And for those who have been systemically deprived of opportunities and their right to be involved in governance and democracy – this was a very real chance for them. We were all closer to having a government that would be closer at supporting our collective dreams and standing up for our rights. It won't be a perfect government – but it would have been closer to the people. I cannot count the number of urban poor leaders, drivers, youths and advocates of all ages and faith practices, including agnostics and atheists, who were expressing their hope through concrete everyday acts of kindness. All of these people are hardworking students, workers and leaders, but they knew that to have the government stand for what is Good and True would definitely be a game changer. But now, we all seem to fall short – more than 30 million have voted for a form of government that is drenched in blood. And so where is #RadikalNaPagmamahal (RadicalLoving)? It comes at the sad price of Love being a Choice, even at the absence of euphoria and in all this darkness. I’ve shared this with family members and friends who share in the exhaustion: Love is both a damning yet necessary choice.
And so I will continue to “wear pink.” And where doable, I would like to be on that middle-yet-ambitious-ground. Gently reminding those from the movement who are becoming exclusivists to remember to keep their eyes on the prize: good and inclusive governance and communities. I also recommend lots of #RadicalCare, rest, social media detox, paglalarga (travelling), time with loved ones, and crying as needed. Because dear ones, Love is a Choice. And with It comes hope, justice, peace and legit unity [pun intended?]. And for those who have forgotten history and undermined justice and hope, I hope to be a critical yet nonjudgmental listening ear to you. Because at the end, we were never enemies. Padayon ‘Ta. Mangarap. (Move Forward. Dream) Malunggay, otherwise known as Moringa or Drumstick Tree, is a tricky “vegetable” – at least to my grandmother. She knows how malunggay is a heavyweight in the vitamins and nutrients division, yet she’s aware that to cook it would take extra effort: sorting through and picking the leaves from the stalks, and then being extra careful with cleaning up after as the leaves could end up clogging the kitchen sink. When I was a migrant/overseas Filipino worker (OFW) in the UAE for almost three years, I was shocked to see how expensive the leaves from this Filipino backyard tree was, though the moringa I was seeing was probably an import from India as the plant was endemic there too. This morning, I found out my grandma had our backyard malunggay tree trimmed off of its high branches, as the foliage already seemed to be too think for her. After my cousin cut down the branches, the stalks were just left on our backyard floor, probably for composting soon. I was about to have an idea about it, but I had a long day ahead so I was reluctant: long part-time work hours, research for my upcoming graduate studies and professional certification, plus my GMF session. But it was precisely because of my GMF session that I had to at least squeeze what I thought was a crazy idea for most urban folks: to go around our neighborhood give out free malunggay. Though I love advocacy work and making meaningful connections, I’m mostly a semi-introvert by default. But I had to just try because:
Basically, to not even try to go beyond my comfort zone and express compassion through my actions would just leave me feeling like a hypocrite. The thing is, compassion, courage and striving can be quite contagious. And despite the emotional rollercoaster I end up riding from time to time due to the fellowship, I knew there was something meaningful in a diverse group of dreamers trying to grow within the realm of conscience and compassion. So why not give out free vegetables as a token of gratitude to the Universe – in addition to being a personal act of resistance against the norm of “why bother?” And so, I went around. Got to deliver a total of about one large basket of Malunggay leaves subdivided to about nine households. Some interesting snapshots of the experience:
This is a very simple social experiment, forced upon me by the circumstances of having to choose between the possibility of being rejected, or looking crazy as I give out free vegetables, versus the possibility of having a guilty conscience if I were to not even try. Certainly, there’s self-indulgence there because I knew I could gain the feeling of fulfilment if it were to go well. However, no action, whether well-planned or otherwise, would ever exist in silos. It will always be within a context and framing. But it will be up to us how to make sense of these internal and external prompts, along with various realities which can be questioned, but cannot be controlled. During this quick review of the day, I honestly believe I was “forced” by my conscience to give out free malunggay. For now, compassion for me seems to be more of a discipline – a collection of small and big acts of kindness and vulnerability. It’s still not a natural impulse as compared to a gradual unfolding. Context: I wrote this piece trying to synthesize my thoughts and how the need for a humane form of historical justice rings true across borders, in addition to my sense of nationalism. The original text in Filipino is interchanged with the English translation. Mahabang Hugot Part 1 Why the need to look back into the painful past? It's as if we're asking why the need to love. How are we to truly love that which we don't know? Shall we stop loving as we see the wounds and darkness of those we love? Bakit kailangan magbalik-tanaw sa masakit na nakaraan? Parang tinatanong natin bakit kailangan mag-mahal. Paano tayo magmamahal nang lubos sa hindi natin kakilala? Titigil ba tayo sa pagmamahal kapag nakita na natin ang mga sugat at kadiliman ng mga mahal natin? That’s how it’s like for our nation. How could we be humane if we were too preoccupied with our own selves and unable to grieve the loneliness of others? If our personal safety were enough despite the widespread killings of the poor, and human and environmental defenders? How are we “Filipino” if we could only see our family, and at times, those who come from the same city or province as us? Ganoon din para sa ating bayan. Paano natin masasabi na tayo ay makatao kung masyadong abala sa sarili at hindi makikiramay sa kalungkutan ng iba? Kung sapat na ang ating personal na kaligtasan bagamat patuloy ang malawakang pagpapatay ng mga mahihirap at tagapagtanggol ng karapatang pantao at pangkalikasan? Paano tayo “Pilipino” kung ang nakikita lang natin ay ang ating pamilya at paminsan-minsan, ang ating ka-bayan o ka-probinsya? If it were love, there’s responsibility. But it’s not that kind that’s “forced.” It’s natural – just like a spring from deepest depths of the heart that has to overflow and give life and honor to the beloved. That’s why it’s frightening to love. Because if it were “legit,” bestie, we know this comes with the readiness to be hurt and other than that, the difficult process of becoming even more loving. It’s impossible to remain unchanged if it were true loving. Kapag nagmahal, may responsabilidad. Ngunit hindi ito isang “pilit” na gawain. Ito ay natural – parang isang bukal sa kaibuturan ng puso na kailangan umapaw at magbigay-buhay at karangalan sa minamahal. Kaya nakakatakot magmahal. Kasi kung ito ay “legit,” besh, alam natin kasama nito ang kahandaan masaktan at bukod doon, ang mahirap na proseso na maging mas mapagmahal. Hindi pwede hindi magbago kung ito ay ganap na pagmamahal. Where is the need to look back into the dark truth of our history such as Martial Law under Marcos Sr.? First, it comes with loving our nation and giving honor to known and (even more) unknown heroes and heroines who chose to fight for democracy and human rights, even though if they knew fear. Saan dito ang pagbabalik-tanaw sa malagim na katotohan ng ating kasaysayan kagaya ng Martial Law ni Marcos Sr.? Una, nakalakip sa pagmamahal sa bayan ang pagbibigay pugay sa mga bayaning kilala at (mas maraming) hindi kilala na pinili ipaglaban ang demokrasya at karapatang pantao, kahit sila man ay nakaranas ng takot. Second, only love would provide the ample meaning in looking back in order for this to become a humane step towards justice and healing. If there were love, we would learn that #NeverForget and #NeverAgain are not part of a hate campaign against the Marcos Family. We need these for our pambansang diwa or “national soul” if there were really meaning behind being a Filipino. True loving is never blind – it desires the honor and what is good for the beloved; not the forgetting of the experiences and identity of the beloved. Ikalawa, ang pagmamahal lamang ang magbibigay nang angkop na saysay sa pababalik-tanaw upang maging hakbang ito sa makataong hustisya at paghilom. Kung may pagmamahal, malalaman natin na ang #NeverForget at #NeverAgain ay hindi hate campaign laban sa mga Marcos. Ito ay kinakailangan ng pambansang diwa o ”national soul” kung talagang may prinsipyo ang pagiging Pilipino. Ang tunay na pagmamahal ay kahit kailanman hindi bulag – ninanais nito ang karangalan at kabutihan para sa minamahal; hindi ang pagkakalimot sa mga karanasan at identidad ng minamahal. Forgetting and closing our eyes to the truth are totally different from forgiveness, healing and reconciliation. In the deepest depths of our hearts, we know this. Listen. Ang pagkakalimot at pagpikit sa katotohanan ay ibang-iba sa pagpapatawad, paghilom at reconciliation. Sa kalalim-laliman ng ating mga puso, alam natin ito. Makinig. *The pictures are from Dark Memories: Remembering the Victim-Survivors of Martial Law by Rick Rocamora. The exhibit could be visited at UP Diliman Academic Oval from April 1-30. *Ang mga larawan ay mula sa Dark Memories: Remembering the Victim-Survivors of Martial Law ni Rick Rocamora. Pwede puntahan ang exhibit sa UP Diliman Academic Oval mula Abril 1-30. |
Details
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
September 2022
Categories |