Bayan Ko

It’s the last day of 2021’s Asian American/Pacific Islander Heritage Month, a month that saw hate crimes against the AAPI community continue surging.  I was in San Francisco recently, and every second I was on edge.  Every person seemed a threat.  I looked around constantly, and checked reflections in every shop window to keep track of who was behind me. We can put up all the “I am not a virus” signs we want, but needing a scape goat is one of the greatest evils of human nature, an evil magnified in this particular country at this particular time when polarization is at its height and whites feel their supremacy slipping away.  Or at least being put in its place.

In my sermon “Pentecost Means No Supremacies” I tried to present a vision of society with no supremacies whatever, and said that the fall of supremacies like white supremacy or male supremacy would make whites and males freer than they ever thought they could be.  It’s a thought—a hope—I stand by more each day.  Supremacy takes a terrible toll on those oppressed, but also on those who fight to maintain their oppressor status.  They don’t often see their fight in these terms, of course, and not seeing it this way diminishes their grip on reality, leads them to follow demagogues and liars, and erodes their capacity to become more fully human.

On the day I preached this sermon, the Filipino members of our church took the lead, and I was preceded not only by a reading of the famous chapter in the Book of Acts by Kloie Valdez, but by Ann Louise Natale singing one of the Philippine’s great patriotic songs, “Bayan Ko,” My Country.  Written in Spanish during the Philippine-American War* by the revolutionary general Jose Alejandrino, it was originally titled “Nuestra Patrina.”  The aftermath of the war was U.S. occupation.  Three decades later the poet Jose Corazon de Jesus translated it into Tagalog:

Ang bayan kong Pilipinas
Lupain ng ginto’t bulaklak
Pag-ibig na sa kanyang palad
Nag-alay ng ganda’t dilag.

At sa kanyang yumi at ganda
Dayuhan ay nahalina
Bayan ko, binihag ka
Nasadlak sa dusa.

Ibon mang may layang lumipad
kulungin mo at umiiyak
Bayan pa kayang sakdal dilag
Ang di magnasang makaalpas!

Pilipinas kong minumutya
Pugad ng luha ko’t dalita
Aking adhika,
Makita kang sakdal laya.

Here’s my rough translation.

My country The Philippines
Land of gold and flowers
Love bestowed on her
Beauty and splendor’s glow

Her beauty and grace
Tempted the Foreigners
My country, they enslaved you
Gave you endless suffering

Even a bird that flies free
Will cry once caged
My country, they enslaved you
Gave you endless suffering

CHORUS
Even a bird that flies free
Will cry once caged
My land so fair
Yearns to break free

Philippines that I so adore
Nest of tears and poverty
All that I desire
Is to see you rise and be free

CHORUS
Even a bird that flies free…

As I explained in the notes to my sermon “Pentecost Means No Supremacies,” I cut Ann Louise’s rendition of “Bayan Ko” short because when she was singing, the backing track she was singing to became, for some reason, virtually silent.  Clicking on the picture to the left will take you to a version by one of the Philippine’s most popular singers, Freddie Aguilar.

It’s not a song where the oppressed wants to punish the oppressor.  Oppressors fear that greatly, partly to hide their own guilt, but that’s rarely upper most in the mind of the oppressed.  “Bayan Ko” is a song full of longing and grief just to be free and to enjoy the beauty one can still see despite the brutality. True lamentation on both sides—that’s one of the things it takes to begin breaking the tyrannical, soul-crushing bond between oppressor and oppressed, freeing both sides to pursue a greater humanity. “Bayan Ko” presents one side of the lament as clearly as any song ever has.

♦  Go to Writing About the Philippines, a reflection on and index to what I’ve written about my birth country on this site.  And hear what might be the most popular song ever both in the Philippines and to come out of the Philippines: Freddie Aguilar’s “Anak”  (“Child”).  This version doesn’t have all the translation, but there are plenty of places to find that if you’d like.

*  For more on the Philippine-American War go to “U.S. Returns Belangiga Bells.”

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Image and the Feminine Self

Over thirty years ago, from April 1-3, 1991, we held one of the largest and most successful conferences in North Central College’s history.  As head of the Visiting Lecturer/Cultural Events Committee and the Master of Arts in Liberal Studies, I helped coordinate a conference committee of eleven other faculty and staff from Counseling, English, philosophy, computer science, sociology, music, and psychology.  Seven students, plus student groups from the American Marketing Association and Pre-Professional Programs also played a major role, as well as a dozen people from the community.

Subtitled “A Gender Studies Conference for Women and Men,” it tackled issues which have remained central to our struggles over gender roles and the family up to this moment, a fact which is at once gratifying and sad.  How far have we come, really?  Those issues were best embodied by our two featured speakers, Harvard’s Carol Gilligan, and Evergreen State’s Stephanie Coontz, authors of ground breaking works on gender psychology and gender sociology focusing on the nature of the family.  Carol Gilligan’s In a Different Voice: Psychological Theory and Women’s Development explained how psychology’s largely male lens had persistently and systematically misunderstood women’s personal and moral growth.  “It has the charge of a revelation,” wrote a reviewer from Vogue magazine. “She flips old prejudices against women on their ears. She reframes qualities regarded as women’s weaknesses and shows them to be human strengths.”  That the beauty-celebrity-fashion mag paid so much attention testified to how much the book impacted the general public, and began the widespread discussion of reframing how we see the very definitions of what it means to be “a woman,” “a man,” “a human being.”  Her 7:30 p.m. featured speech on April 2nd was called “Joining the Resistance: Psychology, Politics, Girls, and Women,” and, though girls and women were of course central, the repercussions of her ideas can be seen in the growing efforts today of changing the way we raise boys so they become less destructive and self-destruction men.  The line I remember most was her saying, “When we listen to a person we need to ask, Who is speaking? In What Body? And what story are they telling about relationships.

Stephanie Coontz had written two ground-breaking books:  Women’s Work, Men’s Property: The Origins of Gender and Class, and The Social Origins of Private Life: A History of American Families 1600-1900.  A year later, 1992, she would popularize many of her ideas in her widely-read, widely-regarded The Way We Never Were: American Families and the Nostalgia Trap, with the oft-quoted line: “Leave It to Beaver was not a documentary.”  In her April 1st talk “Images of the American Family” she revealed how much current debates about the future of the family are often based on serious misconceptions about its past.  In The Social Origins of Private Life she had documented how the dominant family form, the “nuclear family,” grounded in close personal relationships, was also based on domestic consumption of mass-produced goods.  It had, as well, blinded us to other rich, alternative family forms, like Native American kin groups.  Her work remains central to debates about family life in America.  I was not really shocked, for example, when the Atlantic made David Brook’s piece “The Nuclear Family Was A Mistake” the cover story of its February 2020 issue.  The popular columnist’s summary heading was: “The family structure we’ve held up as the cultural ideal for the past half century has been a catastrophe for many. It’s time to figure our better ways to live together.”

In my copy of The Social Origins of Private Life, Stephanie Coontz wrote, “Thanks for your incredible hospitality and please let me reciprocate soon.”  I’ve never taken her up on that, though getting to know her and Carol Gilligan better is one of my enduring memories.  As is this one.  A week or so before the conference I happened to rashly open a door in the building the conference would be held in, and found myself in a planning meeting of some of the conference committee members, all women.  I was shocked to have barged in and felt unwelcomed until Madeleine Van Hecke, from psychology, said, “Oh, it’s ok! Guzman’s an andro-male.”  I refused their hearty invitations to come in and sit down. I was at the wrong place, I said, which was true.  But to this day the andro-male description still shocks and embarrasses me a little.  I’m sure it was a compliment, wasn’t it?  My continued uncertainty shows how stuck I still am in the men-are-men and women-are-women mind set.

♦  Go to the lead post in my personal history of significant persons and conferences I helped bring to North Central College.

Here’s the conference schedule:

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Red Wolves and Black Bears

This is part of a series on The Arts of the Essay, and also continues the Earth Day theme of  Thinking Globally, Acting Locally?”  The short review below was written for The Virginia Quarterly Review in the late 70’s (a copy of the VQR review template on which I wrote appears below).  Reading Red Wolves and Black Bears and writing this review perhaps began my fascination with one of America’s greatest essayists and naturalists, Edward Hoagland, whom I write a lot about in the Arts of the Essay series. ***

 

Edward Hoagland has been called the Thoreau of our time.  Like Thoreau’s writing, his often rambles, is allusive, is strewn with clumsy sentences (some deliberate, some not), and there is the occasional line like: “…the rhythm of walking is in the sights and one’s response as much as simply in how one steps.”  Hoagland is also an avid naturalist.  But while in Thoreau’s writing the past barely exists, Hoagland’s is shot through with nostalgia and with the jarring rub of past against present.

Hoagland sees in red wolves and black bears counterparts to the communal and solitary aspects of human nature.  But these animals are not part of human nature.  They are part of the dwindling natural world, and one of the major catastrophe’s of our time is that nature is being relentlessly wiped out by human nature.  Sesame Street‘s Big Bird, says Hoagland, is less bird-like than Bugs Bunny is rabbit-like, and even Bugs is less rabbit-like than either Br’er or Peter.  Thoreau found refreshing intensity, vibrant emotion, and comforting stability in the interplay of nature and human nature.  How do we find these things now?  In these nineteen fine essays—which range in subject from a naturalist’s wanderings and research, to writing, cartoon characters, sports, slavery, pets, divorce, and more—this is the major question.  Sometimes he finds answers, sometimes not.

***  See “A Low Water Man” and “Dogs and the Tug of Life,” two Hoagland essays from Red Wolves and Black Bears I’ve written about.  Also, go to this site’s list of Reviews.

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