From my personal archives. September 14, 2006
(This is about the Vertex boarders last school year. Most of them are no longer here.)
"Trust the uni~verse and respekt your hair."
-Bob Marley
"Forget not that the earth likes to feel your bare feet and the winds long to play with your hair."
-Kahlil Gibran
Most of my dormmates are newcomers, and they are all first year students. For months now, I’ve been wondering if they and I have a generation gap. When it comes to vanity, hair grooming in particular, I seem to have been born an Age earlier than they were.
Of the ten of us occupying the ground floor (the girls are in the second floor), I’m the only one whose hair remains black and who does not use gel. The hairs of the other guys have “highlights” or stiffened by half a bottle of gel, or both. Last year, my old dormmates did not seem to be so particular with their mane.
This barrio boy is experiencing some culture shock. It’s one thing to read about metrosexuals. It’s another to share roof, hallway and mirror with them.
It feels weird to hear the other guys talk about whitening creams with as much enthusiasm as when they share about motorcycles and “chicks.” They advise each other in which tight-fitting, signature shirt they look best. They borrow each other’s fanciful sneakers. (So far, no one has dared borrow my cheap loafers.) The other day, they tried to bleach one guy's hair. I could not suppress a grin looking at his head wrapped in a plastic bag from a department store.
Though my dormmates seem superficial, I noticed one good thing that comes along with their liking for things that, decades ago, were considered “for women only.” By being not so concerned about projecting a macho image, they do not stereotype the sexes. They have respect for women. They collect porn videos in their phones, all right, but they never talked about women as mere sex objects. They treat the girls in the second floor of the dorm as friends, if not family members. Theirs is masculinity anchored not on egotism but on sheer confidence of their sexuality.
The guys with gel and highlights tolerate, if not respect, anyone’s gender preference. We have a transvestite dormmate who prefers being called Luningning. They occasionally make harsh jokes to him, of course, but he's not talked about behind his back and labeled a sinner or any other prejudiced term. The others sometimes borrow his wig to set up a “White Lady” inside the room of whomever they want to scare during brownouts. They asked him to be their make-up artist when we had the search for the Mr. and Ms. of our dorm during acquaintance party. And, yes, they promptly call him Luningning. In another time or another place, the gay boy would be treated as the poor clown, or be mauled.
I’m beginning to think that “vanity” and “vaingloriousness” are not the proper words to describe the way my dormmates care and adorn their hairs. It’s just the norm of “their time”—the time, which I would like to think as the prelude to the age of a more open-minded and egalitarian society.
Meanwhile, the fashionista guys must have influenced me. I now have my share of vanity. I’ve grown my hair. It used to be one-inch long and uncombed for almost six years, but now it’s pricking my eyes.
I’ve been grooming my it with the aid of a small, brown comb, which would be borrowed by two or three guys every morning. The comb has raked through practically all kinds of hair: dry hair and hair sticky with gel; straight hair and parlor-straightened hair; black hair and fake blond hair; hair of an Ilonggo, and hair of an Ilocano; hair of a Christian and hair of a Muslim.
The worst antidote to the hair fever, however, is about to come. Next week, our conservative school will no longer allow male students to wear our hair long. I suspect the primary purpose of the hair policy is to keep gays from wearing their hair at shoulder-length. Talk about open-minded and egalitarian society.
What bothers my dormmates and I is that the rule says our hair must not reach the collar of our shirts. We’re planning to skirt the rule by removing the collar of our shirts. But I guess I need not do that for, thank God, I’ve got a long neck. For the mean time, what I should do is wash my comb regularly, before we share lice and have bad hair days.
Thursday, January 24, 2008
No love lost
From my personal archives. September 28, 2006
A few days ago, I watched The Lost City in a mall.
The movie received lukewarm reviews, but I decided to see it after finding out from the internet that it is set in 1958-59 Cuba, where Fidel Castro and Che Guevara overthrew President Batista. I figured the film may not be a superb artwork but watching it is at least not a boring way to learn history.
I expected the scenes to look as if they happened in a place and time I could not relate to. But City might as well be set in modern-day Philippines. Like Cuba in 1950s, our country’s democracy today is in peril, though our situation is not as bloody.
Any Filipino could understand the uncertainty felt by the protagonist, a Havana nightclub owner named Fico Fellove. Some of our fellowmen even share Fico’s tragic experiences—he lost to the revolution the woman he loves, his two militant brothers, and his flourishing career.
One of Fico’s brothers served the army of the de facto government, believing that the bloodshed would pave the way for a true democracy. But his leaders, Castro and Guevara, were staunch adherents of Marxism, a complete opposite of democracy.
Aside from that, democracy could only be achieved by ways of democracy, not by spewing bullets to the guts of the enemy.
I have nothing against military leadership or communism. Those systems work for other countries. What I am wary of is the repression that usually goes with them. I do not want to live in a country where I would be told to think in a certain way and be shot if I speak the opposite.
The problem with democracy is not its weaknesses, but the leaders who take advantage of those weaknesses. The problem is not democracy’s tendency for instability and revolution, as Plato so dreaded. The problem is the people like Fulgencio Batista and Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.
Why GMA? It’s because she’s a Marcos-in-the-making. Last month, our class watched Batas Militar, a documentary about the Martial Law regime in the Philippines. I was struck with the uncanny similarity of the tactics Marcos used in clinging to power and the actions of GMA today: rigging of election results, covert manipulation to change the constitution, unjustifiable offensive to communist insurgents, among others.
I wonder why so many people who belong to the generation before mine do not seem to recognize the signs. Perhaps they see, but they do not care anymore. They may have become too tired of the seemingly never-ending political crisis in the country, as Filipinos seem to be just putting in power one corrupt leader after another.
Some people insist that we have no one to blame but ourselves for our misery since, as Abraham Lincoln said, democracy is “of the people, for the people and by the people.” They say we get only what we deserve and real change is possible only if we tend to our own backyards first. I agree. But this is no excuse to let our leaders off the hook.
For me, there’s only one simple process how we can protect democracy: (1) We’ll elect our leader. (2) If he screws the nation, we’ll ask him to resign. (3) If he does not make the “ultimate sacrifice,” we’ll oust him through a non-violent people power and we’ll accept his constitutional successor or elect another one. (4) If the successor also screws the nation, we’ll again ask him to resign. We’ll keep on repeating the cycle until, to paraphrase a line from another movie, the people will no longer be afraid of the government and the government will be afraid of the people.
“The Lost City” was not partial to anyone or any ideology. It showed the capriciousness of the Batista dictatorship as much as the unforgiving ways of the Castro government.
Fico had a crucial decision to make. He could stay and lose his life. Or leave and lose his country. We Filipinos are in better circumstances. There’s only one thing we need not lose—hope.
A few days ago, I watched The Lost City in a mall.
The movie received lukewarm reviews, but I decided to see it after finding out from the internet that it is set in 1958-59 Cuba, where Fidel Castro and Che Guevara overthrew President Batista. I figured the film may not be a superb artwork but watching it is at least not a boring way to learn history.
I expected the scenes to look as if they happened in a place and time I could not relate to. But City might as well be set in modern-day Philippines. Like Cuba in 1950s, our country’s democracy today is in peril, though our situation is not as bloody.
Any Filipino could understand the uncertainty felt by the protagonist, a Havana nightclub owner named Fico Fellove. Some of our fellowmen even share Fico’s tragic experiences—he lost to the revolution the woman he loves, his two militant brothers, and his flourishing career.
One of Fico’s brothers served the army of the de facto government, believing that the bloodshed would pave the way for a true democracy. But his leaders, Castro and Guevara, were staunch adherents of Marxism, a complete opposite of democracy.
Aside from that, democracy could only be achieved by ways of democracy, not by spewing bullets to the guts of the enemy.
I have nothing against military leadership or communism. Those systems work for other countries. What I am wary of is the repression that usually goes with them. I do not want to live in a country where I would be told to think in a certain way and be shot if I speak the opposite.
The problem with democracy is not its weaknesses, but the leaders who take advantage of those weaknesses. The problem is not democracy’s tendency for instability and revolution, as Plato so dreaded. The problem is the people like Fulgencio Batista and Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo.
Why GMA? It’s because she’s a Marcos-in-the-making. Last month, our class watched Batas Militar, a documentary about the Martial Law regime in the Philippines. I was struck with the uncanny similarity of the tactics Marcos used in clinging to power and the actions of GMA today: rigging of election results, covert manipulation to change the constitution, unjustifiable offensive to communist insurgents, among others.
I wonder why so many people who belong to the generation before mine do not seem to recognize the signs. Perhaps they see, but they do not care anymore. They may have become too tired of the seemingly never-ending political crisis in the country, as Filipinos seem to be just putting in power one corrupt leader after another.
Some people insist that we have no one to blame but ourselves for our misery since, as Abraham Lincoln said, democracy is “of the people, for the people and by the people.” They say we get only what we deserve and real change is possible only if we tend to our own backyards first. I agree. But this is no excuse to let our leaders off the hook.
For me, there’s only one simple process how we can protect democracy: (1) We’ll elect our leader. (2) If he screws the nation, we’ll ask him to resign. (3) If he does not make the “ultimate sacrifice,” we’ll oust him through a non-violent people power and we’ll accept his constitutional successor or elect another one. (4) If the successor also screws the nation, we’ll again ask him to resign. We’ll keep on repeating the cycle until, to paraphrase a line from another movie, the people will no longer be afraid of the government and the government will be afraid of the people.
“The Lost City” was not partial to anyone or any ideology. It showed the capriciousness of the Batista dictatorship as much as the unforgiving ways of the Castro government.
Fico had a crucial decision to make. He could stay and lose his life. Or leave and lose his country. We Filipinos are in better circumstances. There’s only one thing we need not lose—hope.
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