Pop culture and Filipino traits, published in Manila Standard Today, 6/8/2010
“Invitation to a presentation on Filipino popular culture.” The notice sat in my Inbox, tantalizing me with its possibilities. I was ripe for it. The last time I was home was nearly two decades ago. The desire to check out the old country and my people has been steadily getting stronger by the day. This almost atavistic yearning started last year when I got re-connected through cyberspace with my college friends from the University of the Philippines. I also suspect this growing need to re-examine my roots is just one more sign of my advancing years, but I’ll reserve those ruminations for another time.
Bottom line, the invitation sent by a local community college about a presentation on Filipino pop culture couldn’t have been more timely. I was curious to know the kinds of things that preoccupy modern-day Filipinos. Are they into rap music and reality TV, I wondered. Do they text their BFFs as much as my daughters do and is basketball still the all-time favorite sport? Are komiks still popular? What about karaoke?
The presenter was a white male in his late 60s and he did not appear particularly delighted to see me there. “You don’t look like a Filipino, so you must be married to one,” I said smartly. “When did you live in the Philippines”? His expression soured. He had visited several times but hadn’t actually lived there. “But you must have stayed long enough to be able to speak knowledgeably about the culture,” I coaxed hopefully. He said there was one time he stayed at least a couple of months. My heart sank. I would have left right then but my inner voice said I should give him the benefit of a doubt. “Are you here to vet me?” he asked. I shook my head; smiled reassuringly. “I’m here to learn, and I promise to keep quiet.” One minute into his presentation, I broke my word.
The problem started with his definition of popular culture. He said the easiest way to describe it was to make a comparison. It was not “fine art”; it was more like “vulgar art.” I took exception to that. We were discussing Filipino popular culture after all. I suggested that “casual” or “informal” or “trendy” would do just as well without the negative connotation that “vulgar” brings. He shrugged. By the time his entire presentation was over, I realized my comment had been a bit premature, and that perhaps, his description had been more accurate than mine.
The presentation was made up of slides and actual film and television clips. It was focused on three aspects of Filipino culture: the most popular male and female movie stars, the most popular TV show, and the Filipino concept of beauty. He flashed pictures of Dolphy and Nora Aunor and told us they were the reigning stars of the Filipino film industry. You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. Dolphy must be at least a hundred years old and La Aunor is no spring chicken either. They couldn’t still be in the movie business, could they? I was on the verge of asking this “expert” on Filipino pop culture the last time he had actually set foot on Philippine soil, but I got distracted by the third picture on the slide.
It was a caricature of a face. I couldn’t even tell its gender. Pokwang, we were told, is the female star of the most popular TV show in the Philippines, which goes by the equally ridiculous name of “Wowowee.” I stared in dismay as the presenter proceeded to play a clip from the show, so we could “better appreciate and understand the Filipino culture.” The show is a montage of songs, dances and silly games facilitated by a host with another unpronounceable name and his side-kick Pokwang, plus a troupe of scantily clad “Kembot” girls and “Amazonas.” Everybody—including the entire audience made up of Filipinos of all ages from all walks of life: students, matrons, grandparents, mothers with babies—shimmied, swayed, and bumped suggestively while singing with gusto at the top of their voices, clearly enjoying themselves. I cringed in my chair and prayed for the clip to end.
Mr. Presenter helpfully pointed out that the Kembot girls (taller than average, fair-skinned Mestizas) personify the Filipinos’ concept of beauty. I conceded the point. It was true even back then but was it too much to ask that he do his homework so the snickering kids in the back of the room wouldn’t go away thinking Kembot girls represent the norm?
Thankfully, the show ended, but before I could breathe normally again, we were shown another clip, this time from a movie starring Dolphy and Panchito. The film had no sub-titles so the students in the room could not really appreciate Dolphy’s brand of humor. In fact, you had to be a Tagalog-speaking Filipino to understand the subtleties of the language, otherwise; the movie was just one big slapstick routine. Our very own Abbott and Costello, culminating in a scene that showed Dolphy pulling Panchito along with two of his fingers hooked into the other’s nostrils. Inane, tasteless, low class, vulgar. “Bakya.” I sighed. Definitely not fine art.
As a people we are known for our generosity, our hospitality, our deep sense of loyalty and camaraderie, and respect for our elders. Here in the US, I know of Filipinos who work two, three jobs rather than rely on government handouts. We are a proud race, valued for our hard work, initiative and enterprise. It’s easy to lose sight of all these wonderful traits in the face of mindless gyrations, tasteless jokes and shameful display that pass for popular entertainment in our culture.
