Chaos and mediocrity is rampant in the Philippines, but it is worth noting that a majority of its people still fervently defend it when a foreigner dares to criticize it, usually in the least tactful way possible. In a way, Filipinos do have the right to defend their nation’s dignity, but given the nation’s present condition, it’s not always a good thing. But in such times, one would observe a kind of unity in such grievances. If not stressing their painful history, Filipinos would assert that their identity as a nation has been deeply insulted. Although the claim is fairly legitimate, it is flawed: What is it that makes a Filipino? Nobody seems to know, so there seems to be no point claiming something to be of essence.
I have been constantly confronted by the question in the last few years, and it hasn’t been easy. I have been conflicted by my people’s ignorance and arrogance, so harshly that I wonder: maybe there is something there worth fighting for, after all; maybe they know something that I don’t, and whatever that is, my people haven’t been able to point out for a while now.
After much deliberation, it occurred to me: being Filipino is more than having strong family ties or being hospitable or industrious or having an unstoppable sense of humor. Being Filipino is even more than defending the Philippines from foreign opposition; in relation to that, why are Filipinos so adamant in protecting their country from outsiders? Well, the sentiment is not too different from people of other nations; there is something that binds peoples to their country of origin and hence, people of the same origin. Why else would people of a certain country fight so hard against a foreign rule threatening to take over? They always struggle for the cause of “freedom,” which would closely translate being in control of one’s own space. Furthermore, a nation is attached to their country of origin because there is a sort of reconciliation between the people and the land which they call their home.
The Philippines is mother to the Filipinos. Anybody whose lineage traces back to the Philippines is a brother, which is perhaps why Filipinos tend to impose their nationality on anyone with Filipino blood. We are not like the Japanese, who tend to discriminate against individuals a fraction of foreign blood; we are the opposite. We tend to embrace individuals with even the tiniest drop of Filipino blood. Sometimes, we get carried away, but that’s how we show our love for country. I guess that also explains why even those who have left the motherland feel thrilled to meet others of the same bloodline.
Bloodline must not be confused with race. (I daresay some of my people tend to confuse it.) Filipinos are generally of a mixed race: anyone who calls himself a Filipino has at least one foreign ancestor. These people would include Chinese Filipinos (mestizos included) and some Indians, Japanese and Arabs—non-indigenous peoples who have bonded with the Philippines through shared history.
However, although Filipinos value the notion of blood relations, being of the same bloodline is not essential to being Filipino. A pureblood Chinese, for example, may call the Philippines home and might as well call himself a part of the nation, while an American of Filipino descent would rather identify with his American side than his Filipinos side. As I explained earlier, it has more to do with the inhabitants’ attachment to the place.
Therefore, the Filipino society being a potpourri of cultures through a colorful history of intermingling with visitors, Filipino culture as we know it today has become a blending of various elements of cultures—both native and foreign. It would be pointless to argue that there is no “true” Filipino culture because of it being molded through foreign relations; Filipino culture is of mixed cultures, just as its people are mostly of mixed race. Filipinos are attuned to it as something they can call their own. It has shaped them into who they are now. Only an unfortunate series of circumstances has deformed Filipino culture, which foreigners are quick to point out as severely flawed.
Indeed, it is badly misshapen, that Filipinos can no longer pinpoint what it is that binds them as a nation. I have only managed to do so now, and it has taken me years. We Filipinos have a bond with our country that is so strong that we are willing to fight in an effort not to sever it. We love our country because it is where we can be ourselves and be in control.
In the present, the Philippines is not exactly paradise. Every aspect of Filipino culture and society today may be flawed and definitely not worth being proud of anymore. Things have gotten so bad that Filipinos leave the country, and many more intend to do the same. On one hand, things might be too late; on the other hand, if somebody takes a stand, we might have a fighting chance. I am a Filipino; I am done fighting it. The Philippines is my home; I cannot sit here and complain anymore. I know it’s in bad condition, but just because it can’t serve me doesn’t mean it’s not worth taking care of. Although I am leaving the Philippines, it is not to abandon it. I will make a change.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Saturday, October 3, 2009
Danielle de Barbarac a Mary Sue?
This has disturbed me since I read this essay on Mary Sues, which fleetingly mentions Danielle de Barbarac as a Sue. Although I could see that Danielle's character matches the qualities of a Mary Sue, I keep finding myself trying to make excuses that she's not.
When I watched Ever After in full for the first time last year, I was absolutely awed at Danielle de Barbarac’s display of wit and intellect. As a girl, Danielle grew up listening to her father as he read to her books on philosophy and science. Such subjects captured her heart; in the years to come, after her father’s sudden death, she treasures these ideals she learned in these books, especially in Sir Thomas More’s Utopia. In effect, Danielle grows to care so much for the peasants and outcasts, especially when she becomes one herself when her stepmother turns her into a servant.
Ten years after her father’s death, she carries with her these passions; this is perhaps what keeps her strong in life and work. In an effort to keep Maurice, her family’s oldest servant, she disguises herself as a “courtier” and impresses Prince Henry and his men by reciting: “A servant is not a thief, and those who are can’t help themselves. If you suffer your people to be ill-educated and punish them for that educated disposed of them, what else is to be concluded, sir, but that you make thieves and then punish them?”
I was impressed myself and after other similar quotes, Danielle gradually stole my heart.
For the rest of the movie, she keeps charming the Prince and also Signore Leonardo da Vinci with her witty and feisty attitude. Danielle might be unusually free-spirited for a 16th-century French woman, but at least it makes sense: her father was a healthy man who gave her access to heavy books. Besides, it is from lack of maternal guidance that Danielle’s best ladylike ways do not come naturally and have to be observed from wealthier women. This is perhaps reason enough for her not to be uptight or squeamish unlike her stepsisters Marguerite and Jacqueline. Danielle is fun-loving and adventurous like the present-day woman. She even befriended a gang of gypsies, who are considered outsiders who don’t deserve anyone’s sympathy.
Another realistic touch to Danielle is that, with her powerful ideals, it would have been more sensible for her to run away from the manor and make a life for herself. But she doesn’t for the sake of self-preservation (at least she gets fed and sleeps with a roof over her head) and to keep an eye on her parents’ valuable properties and the servants she considers her only family.
Danielle is undoubtedly a good character, but a Mary Sue?
According to TV Tropes, a character with Sue-ish qualities can get away with it if written well. Danielle may be incredibly smart and witty and “beautiful all along” but by the way she’s written out, it works.
Perhaps what ruins her is the climax, when Monsieur Pierre Le Pieu was held at swordpoint—his life in exchange for her freedom. “My father was an excellent swordsman; he taught me well,” Danielle warns the lustful merchant. Meanwhile, her designated love interest, Prince Henry, is racing to rescue her, but by the time he arrived, Danielle is walking out of the mansion completely unharmed, as a display of her independence. It would have worked if it didn’t involve a sword, because that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Danielle was supposedly eight years old when her father died; what self-respecting father would teach a little girl to do combat? He might as well have handed her a gun.
When I watched Ever After in full for the first time last year, I was absolutely awed at Danielle de Barbarac’s display of wit and intellect. As a girl, Danielle grew up listening to her father as he read to her books on philosophy and science. Such subjects captured her heart; in the years to come, after her father’s sudden death, she treasures these ideals she learned in these books, especially in Sir Thomas More’s Utopia. In effect, Danielle grows to care so much for the peasants and outcasts, especially when she becomes one herself when her stepmother turns her into a servant.
Ten years after her father’s death, she carries with her these passions; this is perhaps what keeps her strong in life and work. In an effort to keep Maurice, her family’s oldest servant, she disguises herself as a “courtier” and impresses Prince Henry and his men by reciting: “A servant is not a thief, and those who are can’t help themselves. If you suffer your people to be ill-educated and punish them for that educated disposed of them, what else is to be concluded, sir, but that you make thieves and then punish them?”
I was impressed myself and after other similar quotes, Danielle gradually stole my heart.
For the rest of the movie, she keeps charming the Prince and also Signore Leonardo da Vinci with her witty and feisty attitude. Danielle might be unusually free-spirited for a 16th-century French woman, but at least it makes sense: her father was a healthy man who gave her access to heavy books. Besides, it is from lack of maternal guidance that Danielle’s best ladylike ways do not come naturally and have to be observed from wealthier women. This is perhaps reason enough for her not to be uptight or squeamish unlike her stepsisters Marguerite and Jacqueline. Danielle is fun-loving and adventurous like the present-day woman. She even befriended a gang of gypsies, who are considered outsiders who don’t deserve anyone’s sympathy.
Another realistic touch to Danielle is that, with her powerful ideals, it would have been more sensible for her to run away from the manor and make a life for herself. But she doesn’t for the sake of self-preservation (at least she gets fed and sleeps with a roof over her head) and to keep an eye on her parents’ valuable properties and the servants she considers her only family.
Danielle is undoubtedly a good character, but a Mary Sue?
According to TV Tropes, a character with Sue-ish qualities can get away with it if written well. Danielle may be incredibly smart and witty and “beautiful all along” but by the way she’s written out, it works.
Perhaps what ruins her is the climax, when Monsieur Pierre Le Pieu was held at swordpoint—his life in exchange for her freedom. “My father was an excellent swordsman; he taught me well,” Danielle warns the lustful merchant. Meanwhile, her designated love interest, Prince Henry, is racing to rescue her, but by the time he arrived, Danielle is walking out of the mansion completely unharmed, as a display of her independence. It would have worked if it didn’t involve a sword, because that seemed to have come out of nowhere. Danielle was supposedly eight years old when her father died; what self-respecting father would teach a little girl to do combat? He might as well have handed her a gun.
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