Week Four: Desiree

There is one characteristic of the Philippines that I have yet to adjust to after a month in the country. This feature is one that haunts me in a sense, something that keeps me in a state of a reflection from morning until night: the contrasting images of poverty and wealth. Although my Filipin@ balikbayan mother warned me and told me stories of it, it wasn’t until I came here to the islands as an adult that I sincerely began to understand why my mother stressed to me the openness of poverty in the Philippines. Driving through metro Manila, one will see slums lining the highways. The skyline behind the slums shows tall skyscrapers and megamalls.

It isn’t just Manila that holds these juxtapositions. During the last week of our trip, we travelled to Boracay, a world-famous tropical beach destination in the Visayas region of the Philippines. On the surface, one may think that Boracay is a real contrast to metro Manila. It’s a small island that must be reached by boat. There are no skyscrapers or bus lines and Jollibee isn’t two to a corner. But the beach is lined with shops and restaurants for those wealthy enough to party or visit the area. Our first night in Boracay, amidst the bars, fancy restaurants, hookah lounges, and European tourists, instead of enjoying it to the fullest and letting myself relax for an evening, all I could do was reflect on the capitalist haven that the island had become.  When Angel Shaw commented on our then-future excursion to the beach, she commented that years ago when she’d went, there was a mere two huts that visitors could stay in. Now, there are countless hotels and inns, so many that one can wait until they reach Boracay to even look for a place to stay. While slums full of makeshift shacks weren’t adjacent to the fancy beach resorts, images of poverty are still there for those with open eyes. While walking with some classmates in search of a club, we walked past several children sleeping on the beach. Had these children been awake, they’d be asking for spare pesos. Walking through the sand, during a night sky lit up by party lights coming from every bar, all I could do was wonder who these children were and what their stories were. Were they indigenous to the region? Was their ancestors’ land taken away to create a Shangri-La for foreigners and other Pilipin@s? Our visit to Boracay was bittersweet: While I loved the ambience and fun vibes of the beach and nightlife in Boracay, it left me unable to stop thinking about capitalism’s effect on communities in the PI.

Gorgeous but... how many of these folks do you think had ancestors walking these beaches? I know I didn't.

Boracay sunset. Yes, I watched it and reflected on capitalism.

It was a feeling I couldn’t shake. It stayed with me in Cebu. In Cebu, we visited the showroom for Megaworld Corporation, an expansive real estate company.  The showroom had scale models of several developments that the corporation had begun planning and building in the area. Pristine design and high-rises comprised these giant apartment complexes. The complexes would all be contained in a small town, which included a mall, a beachfront, and a school. The units would even come pre-furnished. Sleek uniformity was present in the design. After I took a moment to admire the thought and creativity behind the designs, I was just left feeling uncomfortable – especially after hearing comments of excitement from some folks in the room who wished they could purchase a unit. Are we learning and reacting to new knowledge about conditions in the PI?

Looking at the plans for this future town, I felt like I was in wealthy suburban America. Imperialist capitalism, instituted by the West, has reached this corner of the world. Many Pilipin@s were involved in the making of this project – but does that make it Pilipin@? Does that mean it’s “benefiting” the people of this region -- or does it benefit those who choose to conform to Western hegemony of endless comforts and never-ending expansion, at the cost of native peoples and native lands? Third mentioned that Bohol, an island that we visited off the coast of Cebu, was one the most preserved of the islands. Although Bohol was a tourist destination, it was much cleaner than other places we had visited. From what I observed, it also lacked the megamalls, Jollibees, and slums that are common in many parts of the PI. Third said, “They’re doing something right.” It’s worth examining how this island remains as clean as it has when poverty and over/underdevelopment has ravaged other regions.

Pristine Bohol

When thinking of the poverty in the Philippines, it’s crucial to deconstruct the root of the problem, rather than to merely “feel guilty” about the poverty or to pretend that it is nonexistent. Patricio Abinales’ “An American Colonial State: Authority and Structure in Mindanao” uses the southern region of Mindanao as an example of the important role of colonization, structure, and institutions in shaping a region. Mindanao, a region in the southern part of the archipelago, is a place that many Fil-Ams and native Pilipinos alike look down upon as poverty-stricken, dirty, and dangerous. However, it was American politics that the island was structured upon, and American influence that created divisions between regions, as well as making Mindanao a part of the Philippines. Moreover, American influence instilled a “hierarchy” between ethnic/cultural groups in the Philippines (specifically Mindanao, home of the Moro people). According to Abinales: “What emerged then was a type of colonial ‘racism’ that had a double meaning. While the Americans, in general, regarded the Filipinos as ‘backward," the same racist attitude was used to protect a perceived ‘more backward’ group within Philippine society from the superior ones” (Abinales, 2002, pg. 92). While many Pilipinos often dismiss and frown upon Mindanao, there is a reason for the problems that exist in the region, much of which is directly related to American colonization and occupation. It isn’t religion, skin color, or ethnicity that makes this region “inferior.” It isn’t inferior at all – rather it is suffering the results of American colonization, to an extreme. While Abinales specifically uses Mindanao as an example, much of their ideas can be applied to other parts of the Philippines or the archipelago as a whole. The “beggar” children of Boracay and UP, the slums, and the poverty in the PI all have roots in the exploitation of the islands by colonizers. Contrasting images of wealth and poverty are due to the fact that the PI is an exploited, colonized country that now exists in a globalized, developed world.

Visiting Megaworld presented a sharp contrast to our previous stop in Cebu, the Mactan Shrine, dedicated to Lapu-Lapu, an indigenous ruler of a portion of what is now known as Cebu. Lapu-Lapu was also responsible for the death of Ferdinand Magellan, the infamous European who attempted to colonize much of the Pacific. Visiting the shrine to Lapu-Lapu and the death place of Magellan was one of my favorite moments on the trip. Hearing Lapu-Lapu’s story made me proud to be who I am. As someone who is actively trying to decolonize and resist imperialism, Lapu-Lapu is an incredible inspiration. While I felt awkward that Magellan’s cross was revered and put on display in Cebu, the images of Lapu-Lapu everywhere served as a reminder that resistance is possible. 

Magellan's Cross... in a temple-type structure by a church

Lapu-Lapu

Although I believe wholly and truly in the resistance to colonization, I am still figuring out how to resist. It has crossed my mind that I want to come back here, and perhaps live here in the Philippines, to work and try to decolonize and rebuild these islands in solidarity with natives. The archipelago already feels like home. While in the States, I stick out as a “minority,” but here, despite my lack of proficiency in Tagalog and inability to make excellent tawad, I feel connected. My feelings about the PI are reminiscent of the experiences of Black-American soldiers who immigrated to the islands after the Philippine-American war. Coming to the islands, they felt they interconnected to the Pilipinos and realized that the side they were fighting for (America) was problematic. They also immigrated to escape racial discrimination rampant in the US. 
I know that I don’t necessarily have to immigrate here to help the cause; I can resist from US. One example would be joining Migrante, an anti-imperialist political group that protects overseas Pilipin@ workers. We visited them in our last week and learned they have a PNW connections. I am already a member of a similar group called AnakBayan, which is allied with Migrante. I can resist colonization of the Philippines in my own way. During the Philippine-American War, Black-Americans back in the states resisted the wars in their own way by publicly pledging allegiance to the Pilipino people and calling for an end to the war. Black-Americans stood in solidarity with Pilipin@s: “Clearly, the nature of African-American opposition to the spreading quagmire was dual and intertwined: it was political, based on a mutual struggle for emancipation, as well as racial, based on an affinity between colored peoples” (Ontall, 2002, pg. 122). Whether I come back to the islands or not, I will forever stand in solidarity with those struggling here. While I have Pilipin@ roots and blood, my own struggle as a Person of Color resisting colonialism, imperialism, and white supremacy will forever connect me to these islands as well.

Migrante

Mga pinsan ko (My cousins). Another thing that will forever tie me to these islands and inspire me.

Will you work in solidarity with those struggling here? If so, how? Why do you choose that particular tactic?

Works Cited

Abinales, P. (2002) An American colonial state: Authority and structure in Southern Mindanao. In A.V. Shaw & L.H Francia, Vestiges of war. (pp. 89-117). New York: New York Press.

Ontal, R.G., (2002). Fagen and other ghosts: African-Americans and the Philippine-American war. In A.V. Shaw & L.H Francia, Vestiges of war. (pp. 118-133). New York: New York Press.