A note for International Women’s Day.

Much has been said over the controversy surrounding Cristy Ramos’ sexual harassment complaint against Lexton Moy and Angel Guirado of the Azkals. If anything, much of what has been said gives me a great deal of discomfort.

I’ve explained it here: What is sexual harassment? On Sofia, Cristina, and the Woman Question.

There are matters that are black and white, and there are matters that fall under different shades of gray. Obviously, multiple contexts must be taken into account in arriving at a decision that would resolve this matter.

My only hope is that the raging debate should at least allow us, collectively, to revisit our norms, particularly in how men and women deal with each other. What is the norm is not always right. What is accepted is not always fair.

I will not pass judgment on the men in question, but this is what I know—in everyday situations, women are made to feel inferior because they are women. These can be apparent like having smaller salaries than their male counterparts. This can be as subtle as the language we use and how we have a hundred variations to curse someone because their mother went to bed with who knows to bore them. This can be as silent as staying in the dark and not speaking out that they were sexually violated, because of fear, because of shame, because they cannot openly discuss their bodies.

If only our society is one that easily comes to terms with our shortcomings, maybe then, we can slowly stamp out ignorance.

***

For women everywhere, there still are a lot of proverbial glass ceilings to break through. Here’s to the women that study hard, work hard, play hard, and raise families. There’s one day in the year to celebrate womanity.

Walking on, with hope in your heart

January 7th, 2012 is particularly significant for me, as it is my mother’s first death anniversary. This is an account of how I chose to commemorate it.

Football is more than just the beautiful game. It has become a universal language through which people communicate with each other.

Going beyond a common understanding of the game’s rules, it has become an effective vehicle for fans sharing a passion for the same team to connect and interact, for a nation to rally behind its players in international competition, and yes, for various countries and cultures to unite for a particular cause.

“Dili Kamo Nag-iisa” was special, precisely because it united the local football community for the cause of extending assistance to the typhoon Sendong victims.

What started out as a simple idea initiated by Chris Greatwich over Twitter came into fruition as a match between the Azkals-UFL Alyansa and CF Internacional de Madrid, a team that plays in the Tercera División of the Spanish league.

Moreover, fundraising efforts from the charity match and its complementary activities are now expected to raise a substantial amount to aid those that have lost and that have been greatly affected as a result of massive flooding in areas such as Cagayan de Oro, Iligan City, and Dumaguete City.

And sometimes, just sometimes, the team performance and the scoreline are not the biggest takeaways from a match.

At the post-match press conference, Inter de Madrid coach Javier Garcia Marquez commented that the primary objective of the game was to raise funds, and the team did enough to meet such objective. Inter de Madrid striker Rufino Familiar Sanchez added that when the team found out that they would come to the Philippines to help the typhoon victims, they felt happy at the chance to do so. He also sent a “mucha fuerza” (be strong) and “un abrazo fuerte” (a big hug) to all those affected by Typhoon Sendong.

For one group of supporters, “Dili Kamo Nag-iisa” was also a perfect opportunity to show unity with and support for the typhoon victims.  A group of fans that support Liverpool FC, known as the KOPinoys, also found time to organize themselves for the charity match. It was only fitting, especially since the charity match’s title, “Dili Kamo Nag-iisa” was inspired by “You’ll Never Walk Alone”, an anthem that has become inextricably linked with Liverpool FC.

 Photo credits: Mark Cristino

“The KOPinoys is just a small group of Liverpool FC supporters, so we worked hard to get the word out and connect with Liverpool FC supporters in the Philippines for this cause,” explains Michelle Cortes, one of the active KOPinoys. “We’ve also been in touch with other Liverpool supporter groups that have expressed their desire to help typhoon Sendong victims, and they are also mobilizing resources that they would donate to the Philippine Red Cross.”

Photo credits: Mika Palileo

For many KOPinoys, “You’ll Never Walk Alone” takes on a very personal meaning. Marj Bonifacio shares, “’You’ll Never Walk Alone’ is not just a chant, an anthem, or a battle cry—it’s an expression of immeasurable and unconditional faith and love.”

Mitzi Alojipan reflects, “That in this life, we share the happiness, joys, blessings, struggles, difficulties, and challenges with our family and loved ones, even strangers—our fellowmen in general—we never walk alone. What the song means to me is that we can feel and empathize. Goodness and kindness connect us with everyone, and we will never be alone in our journey and that we have to do our share in being there for others to pay goodness forward.”

Walk on through the wind, walk on through the rain, though your dreams be tossed and blown. Walk on, walk on, with hope in your hearts, and you’ll never walk alone.

These were the words that were echoing around the Rizal Memorial Stadium as the players made the lap of honor and as people were filing out little by little. Yet, the Liverpool supporters stayed on to sing the song with all their hearts. What strikes anyone listening to the song is that it brings a strong message of hope and of comfort. For this group of supporters, all they could hope for was for those in Cagayan de Oro, Iligan City, and Dumaguete City to hear those words of encouragement—that amid the loss of properties and loved ones, the typhoon Sendong victims could once again stand on their feet, walk on, and continue living their lives.

Photo credits: Fritz Dalida

“Dili Kamo Nag-iisa” enabled many people to express their support and extend their assistance in whatever little way they can. This is the power of a game and a song—that they can unite and move communities into action, and send a strong message of hope for those in need. This is what walking on with hope in your heart means—to wake up each day with faith and conviction that a brighter future will come soon enough.

To the victims of Typhoon Sendong: Nunca vas a caminar solo. Dili kamo nag-iisa. You’ll never walk alone.

Originally posted in Pinoyfootball.

Of grief, changes, and never walking alone.

Kahlil Gibran once wrote, “Your pain is the breaking of the shell that encloses your understanding.”

I’ve loved that line for as long as I can remember. I remember marking it from my mom’s copy of “The Prophet”, among a few other passages that struck me. Yet it is only this year when I truly understood what it meant.

I started the year in the worst way possible. Seven days into 2011, I lost my mother to cancer. It had been a battle she was fighting for nearly two years, with the malignant cells from her ovaries eventually spreading into other parts of her body, including her lungs. I keep thinking I will miss her even more so in the years to come, when those everyday moments and momentous occasions will unfold and she’s no longer here.

A part of me died last January 7, 2011, and it was a struggle to pick up the pieces. Suddenly, I realized how little I knew about running the house, having been forever dependent on my mom and the household help. It was a process of relearning even the most basic of things, like doing the laundry and going beyond frying and microwaving (I’m hopeless, I know).

I didn’t know it back then, but death marked the start of some significant changes in my life. I started on a new job in April, which gave me the kick that I was searching for—an outlet to be once again competitive with myself and to be a bit more creative than what I had been used to for a time. Of course, that didn’t mean completely leaving what I had been doing—work and advocacy came hand in hand.

I found a new sense of purpose not long after. I’m not the only one who would say this, but 2011 took away a lot of mothers and fathers from children who were never really prepared for such loss—and I found myself supporting friends that were undergoing the same grief. And as I type this, my best friend just shared with me the photos of Kythe Foundation kids that we gave gifts to. I cried for their smiles, which had shone through, despite much pain.

And then there was football—which, I suppose, helped me cope with my grief. I’d like to think it wasn’t escapism, but more of living out a passion—which necessarily leads to another purpose. It literally took me places this year. However, beyond that, it connected me with people that shared the same passion—the ones I hope to share many more years of friendship with.

I still find it hard to fully comprehend the changes I had to undergo this year. Perhaps it will hit me in the unlikeliest of times, at the unlikeliest of places. The only thing I know is this: life really does go on after loss and grief. And if you let it, it can just love you back once more.

2011 broke my heart with the loss of my mother, but my heart had to break so I could let you all in—and re-learn what it meant to love once more. I learned it from my old friends, who were there with me at the toughest of times. I learned it from new friends, who showed me what passion meant. I learned it from my family, especially from my dad, with whom I have reconnected. I learned it from a stranger who took me by surprise in one lucid moment that would never be repeated.

Somehow, despite my grief, I never walked alone in 2011. I hope your 2012 will be filled with magic—the kind of magic that you make and share with the ones that matter most.

Dili kamo nag-iisa.

There’s no need for me to repeat what’s on the poster above. The message is crystal clear.

A group of Liverpool FC supporters in the Philippines are also mobilizing items that will be donated during the charity match, and I tell you, there is no greater embodiment of “You’ll Never Walk Alone” than these acts of solidarity that we can offer to fellow Filipinos in need. Please visit lfckopinoys for more information.

On a personal note, I am helping because of a couple of reasons. First, Cagayan de Oro and Dumaguete, two of the most badly affected areas of Typhoon Sendong, are some of my favorite places in the Philippines. I have not yet visited the areas in the wake of the devastation, but I’ve gotten my hands dirty a couple of years ago, when I helped build toilets in evacuation centers/temporary shelters with Habitat for Humanity for Typhoon Ondoy victims. It was an experience that made me realize that every little thing we can do to help would be tremendously appreciated by those that have none—whether it be a structure for them to relieve themselves or as simple as a hot bowl of arroz caldo to warm their bellies.

The second reason? January 7th, 2012 happens to be the first death anniversary of my mother. Knowing my mother, I know she would approve that I would spend the day by helping others in need, in however way I can. My mother is one of the most selfless and generous people I know, and I know that what I will be doing on January 7th is the best way to honor her.

I hope you all could either join us on January 7th or find the time and resources to be a hero for someone in need—and be able to tell them, “You’ll never walk alone.”

Silence and Brutality.

You Don’t Need to Say Anything.

What I would have told you, only better. I saw your wedding on the pages of a magazine. How every photo reeks with the richness of your life, your happiness. How maybe, just maybe, I would have wanted it for myself. How, after the initial shock, I am left numb and unfeeling.

As it said, you surround yourself with your loved ones, and I with mine. There is nothing more to say.

Channeling Emma Morley and some.

When I saw “One Day” the movie with my best friend, I thought to myself that I had to read the book, regardless of its tragic ending.

Call me masochistic, but there’s something about tragedies that draw me in—maybe I am equally incredibly tragic, I don’t know. That or I just felt incredibly drawn to Emma Morley and Dexter Mayhew—my tragic self thinks there’s something that’s just so relatable about them.

Dexter Mayhew reminds me of the guys I (have) love(d)—self-confident, world explorers, and despite having accomplished exteriors, they are the types to have a part of themselves that don’t really know what they want (yet would not ever dare admit such). And of course (I’ll begrudgingly admit this), the types who seem to have a ridiculously schoolboy-ish charm about them. (Perhaps, secretly, I wished I were more like them—the ones that got what they wanted and got away with murder.)

That said, I always felt that I was a bit more like Emma Morley—self-deprecating, self-righteous, everything self-whatever, except self-confident. it is probably a surprise that I admit this, given that I’ve been branded as intimidating more than once and in different periods of my life (to which I reply, “How is that so? I’m such a dork!”). I’m the kind that felt forever in limbo, forever waiting for her big break, forever waiting—

Sometimes I think I’ll never be in a genuinely functional relationship (Lord knows I’d rather be a spinster than end up with someone un-funny like Ian Whitehead) until it’s too late. While I don’t have premonitions of dying unexpectedly and too early, I just think that for the most part, I’ll be someone like Emma to (perhaps more than) one person—the shoulder to cry on or perhaps, in a night of debauchery—well, I wouldn’t dare go there.

What I do find redeeming about Emma is that despite her self-deprecation and lack of self-worth, she goes into a metamorphosis in a span of about 15 years—perhaps growing into the best version of herself for that period in time. It’s as if she reached her dreams—just not in the timeline that most people would probably have imagined. And yes, she was Dexter’s redemption. At the end of it all.

I didn’t intend for this piece to be a book review. It’s just funny that I saw One Day at a time when I was at my happiest in recent months—I just thought it mirrored a few things in my life and that it grounded me back to reality—that all good things must come to an end, eventually.

Yes, I guess I really am like Emma Morley that way.

Here’s to the Crazy One.

The first time I used a Macintosh was in early 1997. I was 12 and on vacation in the U.S. Remember that that was the time when the world was transitioning from floppy diskettes to 3 1/2-inch diskettes. My uncle was a Mac user, and I was strangely fascinated with a machine that didn’t exactly have what my brain thought was a CPU.

Fast forward to mid-2004, and there I was in the middle of a student conference in Shanghai, China, checking my emails on a friend’s 15-inch Powerbook. If I was strangely fascinated with a Mac  seven years prior, then this time around, I completely fell in love with their machines. Typing across the smooth, silver surface of the Powerbook was quite an experience for my fingertips (of course, I admit getting confused with the menus, but that was a small setback).

My first Apple product was a first generation pink iPod Nano in early 2005, and a year later, my mother got me my first generation Macbook, which I still am using to this day. I got a fourth generation iPod Nano in 2009, which has been my daily companion while driving my car. While I have not been sold on the iPhone and the iPad, I am looking forward to getting a Macbook Pro—which I hope to get soon enough.

I write this as a realization of just how much Steve Jobs has changed my life. Sure, that sounds dramatic, but for each time I have to use a hanging PC, I think of how much I find my Macbook so much more reliable and intuitive. When I realize I forgot to bring my iPod, I rue at all the times I have to turn up the volume of the car radio and sit through the agony of DJs that talk too much.

That said, I was gutted when I opened my email this morning, and the first email that I read at about quarter to eight in the morning is a news alert that Steve Jobs succumbed to the pancreatic cancer that he had been fighting for about seven years. Of course, it hits close to home—and that’s not just because I always wished Steve Jobs would adopt me.

Many people would remember Steve Jobs for Apple’s products that ultimately changed how we go about our day-to-day lives. Yet, I wonder how many would remember him for the profound insights that he had, for the values that he stood for and on which he built his empire? These are the values that drove innovation; these are the values that made Steve Jobs a giant.

I will forever remember his 2005 Stanford commencement address clearly since the time I read the text: Connect the dots. Find a job that you love. Stay hungry. Stay foolish.

He also celebrated the Crazy Ones—the ones who were daring enough to change the world, and certainly did. He certainly belonged to that selected few that were truly called the Crazy Ones. And you know why.

Thank you, Uncle Steve.

(P.S. I would like my Mum to meet you there in heaven. She’ll probably tell you to throw a Macbook Pro my way. Please, please, please.)

When You Kiss a Stranger

It will be completely unexpected.

What would you accomplish if you knew you couldn’t fail?

I must admit, this is a question that I encountered yesterday afternoon. It got me into mulling about things. Offhand, here are some of my answers:

• Perfect report card grades from pre-school to fourth year high school, and “ruler-like” (a.k.a. straight “1.0″s in my UP transcript)
• A functional relationship, where it’s too functional that I probably would have been married with kids right now (I shudder at the thought)
• More accounts than I could have handled by myself, resulting to at least 100% growth of my department
• A cure for cancer so that my mom could still be with me
• A guaranteed sustainable future for the world, backed by responsible consumption, innovative technologies, and utilization of clean and renewable energy resources
• More money than I could ever imagine as a result of enterprising (or gambling), that I actually am already traipsing around the world as a woman of leisure
• For crying out loud, world peace

Sure, the possibilities are limitless, and for a “failure is not an option” type of person like me, I may already be dreaming of the things I wish I could have done.

Yet, reality sinks in. Failure could well be an option. And it is this reality that makes me be on my A-game all the time (well, most of the time).

I remember the first time I got a 5.0 in class (5.0 in UP parlance is tantamount to a failure). It was our first activity in Radio Production class, where we had to present a story for three minutes, using sound effects alone. I remember the entire class understood our horror story, which was a feat in itself. However, our strict professor noted that we went over the time limit and as a subscriber to the traditional belief that radio programs must never go overtime, she put a big, fat, red “5″ on our cards. For someone who is not used to academic failure, it threw me off and got me into brooding over what we could have done differently to shave a few seconds off at meet the exact three-minute mark. (For those wondering, I did get a decent final grade in that class by making up for subsequent productions following that overtime debacle.)

I know it’s a rather shallow experience, but I guess I’ve been blessed to not have made any decisions that ruined my life or career (so far). One of my former superiors, a woman who I think has one of the most brilliant minds ever, always drilled on us the value of excellence and how failure is not an option. I may be yelled at for the smallest of oversights, but I totally understand why.

If failure was really not a possibility, would you be working as hard? Would you be as driven?

Life will throw you so many opportunities for failure—from instances where a decision could change the course of your history to those seemingly inconsequential matters that get you into thinking if outcomes would have been different if you decided to do one thing differently. But see, it’s precisely that fear of failure that drives us to make something out of our careers, out of our lives—at least it is the truth for those who never let the fear of failure conquer them.

You’re not always going to get the right answers, and you may not win every battle you get yourself into, but hey, there’s got to be some accounting for how you played every game or fought every battle—and our own fear of failure (and consequently, our own definitions of success) could have easily shaped the manner in which we went into such things.

If failure was not really a possibility, would you really have achieved the things you wanted to achieve? Or would you just have sat back and let life pass you by?

You don’t know what love is.

There are certain moments in life when the words of another perfectly capture what is going on or what is running through my head. At this particular moment, Kim Addonizio’s “You Don’t Know What Love Is” summarizes everything up:

You Don’t Know What Love Is

You Don’t Know What Love Is
but you know how to raise it in me
like a dead girl winched up from a river. How to
wash off the sludge, the stench of our past.
How to start clean. This love even sits up
and blinks; amazed, she takes a few shaky steps.
Any day now she’ll try to eat solid food. She’ll want
to get into a fast car, one low to the ground, and drive
to some cinderblock shithole in the desert
where she can drink and get sick and then
dance in nothing but her underwear. You know
where she’s headed, you know she’ll wake up
with an ache she can’t locate and no money
and a terrible thirst. So to hell
with your warm hands sliding inside my shirt
and your tongue down my throat
like an oxygen tube. Cover me
in black plastic. Let the mourners through.