PARA SA ESTUDYANTENG NAKIKIBAKA by Prof. Danilo Arao

(Author's note: The article below was written when the calls for Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo to step down from the presidency still remained to be at their loudest even in the last years of her term. At present, Arroyo holds a position in the House of Representatives, and is about to earn one of the biggest shares from the pork barrel allocations. Meanwhile, President Benigno "Noynoy" Aquino III continues the legacy of his blood and kin, a legacy he calls, "Ang Daang Matuwid," which aims to serve the foreign, the few, and the privileged, instead of the whole of the country's people. This year's budget cuts from basic social services, especially in the education sector, are living proof of what is rotten and what ignites what is often mistaken to be  "mere youth's idealism." This article only reminds us that as long as we struggle in a semifeudal, semicolonial society such as ours, no one is too old or too young to fight for what is rightfully every Filipino's: Freedom.)  


HINDI ito sermon mula sa nakatatanda kundi isang munting paalala. Alam mo na ang iskedyul ng mga kilos-protesta mula ngayon hanggang sa pagtatapos ng semestre ngayong Marso. Malamang na magpapatuloy pa ang mga ito hangga't ang Pangulo ay hindi pa bumababa sa puwesto. Inaasahan kang makiisa sa mga ito para ipakita sa mga nasa kapangyarihan ang malawakang pagtutol ng mamamayan sa katiwalian ng pamahalaan at pangkalahatang kabulukan ng sistema. Nasa iyo ang desisyon kung hanggang saan mo gustong dalhin ang iyong pagkilos. Sa isang lipunang "normal," tungkulin ko bilang guro na sabihan kang unahin ang pag-aaral dahil ito ang pundasyon ng iyong magandang bukas.


Pero alam mong malayo sa "normal" ang ating kalagayan, at wala akong karapatang sabihing magkakaroon ka ng magandang bukas dahil lang sa nakapagtapos ka ng pag-aaral. Bilang estudyanteng may mataas na antas ng kamulatan, alam mong ang pagtatapos ng pinili mong kurso sa kolehiyo ay hindi awtomatikong magpapaunlad sa iyong buhay. Sa katunayan, mula sa pagiging kasama sa mga kilos-protesta, baka magiging kasama ka na lang sa lumalaking bilang ng mga walang trabaho. O mas malala pa, baka magiging kasama ka na lang sa nabigyan ng trabaho kapalit ng iyong prinsipyo. Ito ang dapat mong iwasan – ang pagkawala ng pakikibaka sa iyong pagtanda.




Marami na akong kakilalang seryosong kasapi ng parlamento ng lansangan na naging seryosong empleyado ng tubo. Tuluyan na nilang kinalimutan ang kahalagahan ng pagkilos, at kasama na sila sa kumokondena sa mga nangyayaring protesta bilang "simpleng pinagdaraanan lang ng kabataan." Napapailing na lang ako sa kanilang katwiran: "Dati rin kaming aktibista, pero namulat kami sa katotohanang mahirap baguhin ang sistema. Kailangan din naming kumita para sa pamilya, kaya mas mabuti pang isipin na lang ang sariling pag-unlad kaysa mapaos sa kasisigaw sa mga problemang mas matanda pa sa atin." Sigurado akong may mga kakilala kang may ganitong aktitud na kumukumbinsi sa iyong kalimutan na ang pagmamartsa dahil ang iyong pagsigaw ay pansamantala lang ang alingawngaw. Kahit sabay-sabay kayo, lulunurin lang ng ingay ng tao't sasakyan sa lansangan ang anumang mensaheng nais ipahatid. Ang nakararami diumano ay may praktikal na pangangailangang kumita para gumanda ang buhay ng pamilya.


Malamang na may mga panahong nagdududa ka kung tama ba ang pinili mong tahakin. Habang ang mga kaklase mo'y pinoproblema lang ang kasiyahang gagawin sa pagsapit ng gabi, nakikipagpulong ka sa iba pang kasama para sa mga susunod na pagkilos. Sa halip na malasing sa alak at basta na lang tumumba sa tindi ng tama, pinipilit mong magising sa tapang ng kapeng iniinom para labanan ang antok.


Mula sa iilang nakatatandang alam ang iyong pinagdaraanan, maniwala kang may dahilan para ipagpatuloy mo ang ganitong buhay. Sana'y huwag kang magpadala sa pambubuyo ng mga walang pakialam. Sana'y huwag kang matukso sa kinang ng salapi sa oras ng iyong pagtatapos sa kolehiyo. Patuloy mong tingnan ang pag-aaral hindi lang sa loob ng klasrum kundi maging sa labas nito.


Sa panahong katulad nito, lubhang kailangan ang mga katulad mo.

Maria Clara Sucks

“Women hold up half the sky.” – Mao Zedong

Kapag itinulak mo pala ang isang tao palayo nang maraming beses—kahit ang motibo mo ay mas lumapit pa siya nang lubos—siya rin ay mapapagod, kusang lalayo, at lilisan. Ito ang natutunan ko kamakailan hindi lang hango sa sarili kong karanasan, kundi sa mga karanasan ng ilang mga babaeng kilala kong nagnais ding magmahal at mahalin. Sabi nga ng linya sa Ingles mula sa isang pelikula, "Nabubuhay tayo para mailigtas, hindi mula sa mundo ng pighati, kundi mula sa ating mga sarili." Tayo lang naman daw ang nagpapahirap, nagbibigay ng sakit sa sarili nating mga damdamin. Tayo lang ang nagdudulot ng pagkawasak sa ating pagkatao.

Alam kong dati pa ay nakapagsulat na rin ako tungkol sa mga himutok at hinagpis ng isang taong umiibig (sino ba namang nagsusulat ang hindipa 'to nagagawa?) na masasabi ko ring hango sa inspirasyong dulot ng mga personal na karanasan ng "mga babae ko sa buhay." Karamihan sa kanila ay may siglang nakahahawa; ang iba'y may poot at galit sa mundong hindi mo mawari kung anong pinaghuhugutan; ang iba nama'y may matinding libog (as in passion) sa buhay na pagka-tuwing kasamo mo sila, pakiramdam mo'y kaya mong gawin ang lahat, gaya ng pagsayaw sa kalsada nang alas-tres ng umaga, pag-jogging sa gitna ng bagyo hanggang sa gilid ng Bundok Makiling, paghalik ng kapwa mo babae dahil marunong kang magmahal nang lampas pa sa aspektong pangkasarian, o kaya'y paglakad mula UP hanggang Philcoa para lang umakyat sa footbridge at manood ng fireworks na sumindi sa langit ng Quezon Hall. Ang mga babaeng ito'y mga relihiyosa, mga ateista, mga ina, umiiwas maging ina (at daig pa ang Wikipedia sa kaalaman tungkol sa mga pinaka-epektibong paraan ng birth control, complete with efficiency percentage of each instrument), mga kikay, mga lesbyana, mga manunulat, mga mananayaw, mga titser, at mga rebolusyonarya. Ngunit sa kabila ng pagkakaiba-iba, isa lamang ang nagbibigkis sa kanila: lahat sila'y kung umibig, ay ibinigay/ibinibigay ang lahat. Lahat sila'y mga babaeng piniling "magsuot ng helmet, kung kaya't hindi mauntog sa katotohanan," ayon na rin sa isa. Lahat sila'y naging tanga, o nagawang paikut-ikutin sa plato ang isang tao para lamang "sa ngalan ng pag-ibig" (isang karaniwang pariralang maririnig sa mga karaniwang Pilipinong telenobela), o umasa sa wala, o magtulak ng isang tao palayo dahil sa akalang babalik pa siya, hanggang sa mapansin ang helmet na suot. Kahit ano pang isulat ng isang manunulat na babae na tila ba'y siya'y may taglay na lakas na hindi kailanman matitinag, kahit ilan pang lalaki ang i-display niya para lang masabing hindi siya kailanman nag-iisa, kahit ano pang paglulugmok sa trabaho ang gawin ng isang ina para kalimutan ang kanyang asawang natutulog na sa ibang higaan, hindi maikakailang lahat ng mga babaeng ito ay lumuha hanggang makatulog, lumuha hanggang makalimot (kahit sandali lang, ‘pagkat ang babae ay hinding-hindinakalilimot). At oo, isa ako sa kanila.

Bakit nga ba dinidibdib natin masyado ang pagmamahal? Bakit pagka-lalaki ka (at hindi ko nilalahat ha, ito lang 'yung madalas na mangyari sa mga kaibigan kong lalaki), ayos lang na mag-aya ng barkada't uminom, o kaya maglaro ng DOTA, o kaya magpunta sa mga girly bar, tapos kinabukasan, parang, "Syet, pare, umokey-okey nako." Pero sa babae, ang madalas na alam kong reaksiyon ay ang pagsulong sa agos ng buhay, ngunit hindi maaalis ang habambuhay na alaala kung ilang gabi siya umiyak, kung ilang sapatos ang nabili niya dahil safashion daw siya kumukuha ng konsolasyon, kung ilang kasal na ang napuntahan niyang hindi siya ang bride, kung ilang nagngagalit na Facebook status updates o blog ang nai-type niya, kung ilang lalaki ang sumunod para pukawin ang nawalang buhay sa mga mata at puke niya. Mababaw ba? Nakakatawa? Siguro lalaki ka't hindi magawang intindihin ang kababaihan, o kaya'y babae kang hindi pa nagmahal at nasaktan nang lubos, o kaya'y nasaktan man, ay nagsisinungaling sa sarili o nasaktan hanggang sa wala nang pakiramdam.

Sabi ng isa kong mabuti at progresibong kaibigan sa teks, "Kung gusto mo ng abanteng perspektiba [ukol sa pag-ibig], tungkol sa rebolusyon ang basahin mo, 'di tungkol sa relasyon. Para makita mo ang bigger picture and realize how petty worrying about one's love life is when there are other things one can devote her time thinking about," tapos,smiley. Isa siyang kaibigang lalaki. Ang naisip ko lang ay, How is that possible? Ang limutin ang lahat ng himutok at hinagpis na dala ng pag-ibig, lalo na para sa babaeng tulad ko, tulad namin? Matapos kong marinig/mabalitaan ang mga pinagdaraanan ng lahat ng mga babae sa buhay ko, at matapos kong suriin ang sarili kong disposisyon sa pagmamahal, naisip ko, E 'di ba ganun naman talaga 'pag umiibig, sa kahit na sinong babae o lalaki, 'pag nasaktan ka na, naa-isolate ka, feeling mo ikaw lang ang umiibig at nasaktan sa buong mundo, o kung hindi ka naman “loner-type,” kulang na lang ay hanapin mo rin ang lahat ng problemado sa pag-ibig at magtayo ng isang unyon laban sa mga nang-aapi sa relasyon (o kawalan nito, para sa mga "It's complicated" people diyan)?  Pero kung iisipin mo talaga nang mabuti, hindi kailangang mag-conduct ng survey para malamang ang babae ang mas dehado sa bawat paglagpak ng bawat relasyon (or again, lack thereof). Bakit? Kapag iniwan ang babae, kapag siya ang naghabol, siya ang lumuhod, ang tatak sa kanya, “desperada.” Kapag ang babae ang mahilig makipagtalik sa kung sinu-sinong lalaki, ang automaticna mga salitang ibabansag sa kanya ay, “slut,” “whore,” “pokpok,” “naglalako ng pekpek,” at marami pang ibang makukulay na kataga. Subukan mong maglasing at ikaw ay isang “tanggera” o “babaeng pariwara.” Mangarap ka mang ibigin ng isang campus heartthrob at ikaw ay “ilusyonada.” Ipagtanggol mo ang relasyon mo sa “other woman” at isa kang “possessive bitch.” Ngayon, kung ikaw naman ang “other woman,” ikaw ay isang “homewrecker” o “ahas” (samantalang ang lalaking “inagaw” mo raw ay isang “tunay na lalaking may angking kagwapuhang pinag-aagawan,” na tila ba wala siyang kapangyarihang magpasya, parang pinilit pa siyang mag-two time). Tapos “losyang” ka naman ‘pag sinasabi ng ibang taong gamit na gamit na ang katawan mo. Ngayon ko lang napagtantong kahit ang pinakamatatag na babae sa balat ng lupa ay mayroong lalaking pinagsilbihan, dinalhan ng tsinelas, pinagtimpla ng kape, at pinagbuksan ng mga binti. At ang lahat ng ito ay nagmamaskara bilang “Pag-ibig.” Takte naman ang araw na pinanganak kaming mga babae. Tapos magtataka pa tayo kung bakit bongga lang ang “pagdibdib” natin sa pag-ibig? Hindi ba’t mas dapat isaisip ng sangkatauhan—lalo na ng mga kababaihan—kung ano ang  pinaka-dahilan kung bakitthe worst woman to give advice to is a woman in love? At sino ba namang babae ang kusang magsusuot ng helmetkung ang pinakakain sa kanya ng kanyang kultura’t lipunan ay “Thalia,” “Pangako Sa’yo,” Kim Chiu, at Judy Ann Santos? Kung nariyan ang conventional thought na ang mga babaeng protagonista sa mga palabas sa TV ay karaniwang pasibo, minsan lang lumaban, at kailangan ng isang Piolo Pascual? Samantala, si Anna Wintour ay isang demonyitang nagsusuot ng Prada at kapag si Krista Ranillo “inagaw” si Manny Pacquiao, si Krista at Jinky ang guguluhin ng buong Pilipinas. Hindi ba’t mas tamang inilibing na lang nang buhay si Manny? Sa ngayon nga, kongresman pa siya e. Sori, alam kong ad hominem ang argument na ‘to, pero tingin ko, mas mabuting hayaan na lang natin si Pacman sa boxing ring at ‘wag na rin nating idamay sa napakalaking karnabal na ito ang nanay niyang ginagawa lang nating katawa-tawa. Sabi ng mga kapwa ko babae, hindi raw ako nag-iisa. Sa totoo lang, hindi naman gumagaan ang loob ko sa mga salitang ito. Mas masaklap pa ngang ang dami-dami naming ipinanganak nang api, at kailangang magbigay ng ekstra sa mundo para lang mabigyan ng katwiran ang kanyang katauhan, ang kanyang mga pag-ibig at pagdurusa.

Mali. Mali ang mga romantikong kantang Filipino. Hindi dapat tayo nagmamahal “kahit sino pa siya,” hindi dapat “siya ang lahat sa atin,” at mas lalong hindi dapat natin pursigihin ang pag-ibig “hanggang sa dulo ng walang hanggan.” Sa ibang dako naman, kung talagang nagmamahal kang babae, lagpasan mo ang mga bansag sa’yo, igpawan mo ang ari mo. Kung lalaban ka, tama nang paghihintay kay Prince Charming, at ikaw naman ang sumakay sa kabayo’t magsuot ng baluti. Tapos na ang mga araw ni Maria Clara. Hindi ako sang-ayon sa sinabi sa pelikulang nabanggit ko sa umpisang “nag-aantay lang tayo ng tagapagligtas mula sa ating mga sarili.” Hindi mo kasalanan kung babae ka, hindi tayo ang nagpapasakit sa ating sarili dahil tayo pa rin ay produkto ng ating kasarian, ng ating uri, ng ating disposisyon sa buhay. Ngunit hindi totoong hindi ka sapat, at higit sa lahat, ikaw, tayo ang tutubos sa ating mga sarili, mula sa ating kasarian, mula sa mundo ng pighati, kahit mula sa mga himutok at hinagpis ng tinatawag nating “pagmamahal.”  “Love is a battlefield,” ani Madonna. Pagkatapos ng lahat, hindi lang naman tayo mga taong umiibig na marunong din masaktan e, kundi mga babae. Kung nasaktan ka, iiyak mo, magpunta ka sa mga kaibigan mo’t sa kanila ibuhos ang lahat ng sakit sa loob, lagpasan mo ang koleksyon ni Imelda ng mga sapatos, ubusin ang isang galon ng sorbetes, at huwag maniwalang si Gisele Bundchen ay perpekto. At sa susunod na masaktan ka ulit, bumangon ka at mabuhay. Umiyak ka pero hindi gabi-gabi, tulungan mo naman ang mga totoo mong kaibigan, makuntento ka sa mga materyal na bagay sa buhay/aparador mo, kumain nang tama, at maging malusog at masigla. Kakailanganin natin ang atingbuong lakas para sa pagligtas ng karaniwang babaeng Pilipino at lahat ng kababaihan at sangkatauhan sa buong mundo. Hindi lamang sa pag-ibig, kundi sa lahat ng aspekto: sa trabaho, sa pulitika, sa pang-araw-araw na gawain. Sa gitna ng kapitalismo’t patriyarkiya, ang paglaya ng babae ang maghuhudyat ng tunay na paglaya ng isang mala-kolonyal at mala-pyudal na lipunan. Oo, babae ka nga, pero doon lamang nagsisimula ang iyong katauhan at hindi roon magtatapos.

Honey, if you have to be a bitch, then by all means, be the best brainy bitch in town.

Confessions of a Former Banyo Queen

I just found an old photo of 18-year old me in my old room in Ilang-Ilang Residence Hall. Well, actually, one of my friends sent it to me thru e-mail, saying she recovered it from her old laptop. Couldn't help but wax nostalgic about my stay in there (two years and one summer), well, not surprisingly, what with my "reflective nature" (a euphemism for daydreaming, I guess, as remarked by my schoolpaper supervisor back in high school on my seeming inattentiveness).

Now, here I am, making lists out of the blue. If you think that I've nothing to do, I've LOADS. Which is why I refuse to stick to the present goals and happily hop alongside the ghost of me. I HATE BEING BUSY (and don't get those who are happy to say that their lives are in a hurried, harried effort to be significant, or meaningful, or "worth the ride," or whatever. How can it be any of those lovely cliches when you've no time to waste?).

What I do NOT miss about being 18 in a girls' dormitory:

1) Being "crowned" Banyo Queen (in the annual so-called "Kalabasa Awards." Hmmm, i wonder where my plaque and sash are) when I only cared to scrub well enough and make sure there was no hair in the drain, and when i hadn't even had a proper sexy banyo shot. At present, my brother still teases me about this title and I passionately swear that I am now capable of taking a 15-minute bath (it's true, you can time me...and yes, i am defensive!), in contrast to my 1-hour or 30-minute showers before, which, yes, earned me the title that was once Rica Peralejo's (if I am not mistaken, Mr. Andrew E.) in a completely different context.

2) Having to go to dorm/corridor/committe meetings on who was supposed to compete in the Ms. This and That competition (18-year old me: Just because I'm tall does not mean that I can be Ms. This and That. Beauty pageants are exploitative! Those brains, boobs, they aren't even real!), physical displays of affection (PDAs) in the dorm lobby, and other not-so-relevant issues.

3) Oh, and catfights, rolling eyeballs, banging doors, high school "parinig," as if the whole solar system revolved around them. Sometimes, I'm REALLY annoyed by my own sex. Actually, if you had a vagina like I do, you would notice that this bitchiness just never goes away, it's like families in Philippine politics! Not so recently, I had a girl messaging me on Facebook "not to talk to her boyfriend ever again." Her boyfriend happens to be my ex-boyfriend when I was only 16 and I am now, uhm, let me see, 17, 18, 19, 20...21! Geez, I've had my fair share of insecure, awkward teenage moments (no thanks to Barbie and Cosmopolitan magazine, and other patriarchal ideological tools), but this just really creeped me out. And it didn't make sense that she was the one who sent a friend request in the first place! And really, the guy ain't no Jude Law, so girl, chill...relax, nobody ain't gonna steal yo baby. One time, and this happened already in college, I had a boyfriend's female classmate smirk and clear her throat when she saw us together, you know, like, "Ehem! I'm here!" For some reason, she'd become hostile when I was around, and up to now, I still have no idea who she really is, well, aside from the fact that she goes to UP, too. I told my then boyfriend that this classmate of his really bugged me. Next thing I knew, he'd tell me how he sent her a message on Facebook, asking her to stop and the girl was like, "HOW DARE YOU? I NEVER DID ANY OF THIS THINGS! ANG FEELING MO! WHAT THE FUDGE!" or something to that effect (I got to read the messages and we just laughed so hard!). I figured out that she must have really, really hated me, OR that she really, really liked my man, which did not benefit her either way. What is up with girls wanting to eat other girls alive? It is sooooo anti-woman power. It is not attractive, and neither is it fulfilling in any way. All that anger should be deflected toward the real oppressors of the sex and the lower classes, instead. Bitches of the world, unite! You've nothing to gain but actual brains.

4) NO BOYS. And I was 18.

What I DO miss about being 18 in a girls' dormitory:

1) Being in a HUGE dorm room with three roommates/alarm clocks. I could not seem to heave myself up even if I had two phones ringing in sync every morning. A friend who had the same problem actually advised me to put one of my phones on vibrate and place it in a "sensitive part" of my body. Needless to say, it still didn't work! My roommates happened to have all their classes earlier than I did. And from then on, all three or two or one of them would try to get my ass off the bed before they left for school. I remember how nice they would smell, fresh from the shower and everything, while I still probably had saliva all over my pillow. I loved all my roomates!

2) Blushing at the sight of the smartest, prettiest (to me) dormmate on whom I still have a little crush up to now. We liked the same books, we liked the same movies, we both rode on bikes; which brings me to

3) My short affair with a Padyak bicycle. You see, I only pretended I could ride a bike just so I could have a bike just for the fun of it. And the pretending only lasted a month or so, after riding all the way home on a flat tyre; almost getting hit by a stupid car with a stupid driver on the wrong lane; and falling down on the side of the road, my bike blocking the driveway, holding a traffic of three jeepneys or so, and my friend, Marie Francisco, coincidentally walking with her other friends across the road, shouting, "LARA MENDIZABAL! What the hell are you doing?")

4) Girlfriends like Jean Sales and Jacklyn Belo only doors away, with their Nescafe sachets, Red Ribbon cakes, animated stories, gossip on UP professors (they are the best subjects, more than any living not/famous student there is out there), tears over their own and others' failed love affairs.

5) DVD and book rentals for lower than P20. Watching and reading for days until I noticed "I forgot to take a bath yesterday...or was it the other day?" Hence, giving my official Banyo Queen title a break.

6) Gentle smiles from and playful banter with the security guards, laundry women, cleaning and cooking staff. Up to now, I can still enter Ilang-ilang freely without a dorm ID, or without a UP ID, even, because the staff still know me there, and I still get my laundry done by Aling Tere, who has taken care of my clothes since I was a sophomore. I fell in love not just with the place, but with the people; and mostly, I fell in love with

7) The scent of coffee and secret thoughts lingering forever in the halls, down the corridors, and in the very recesses of the rooms that I have shared with many other 18-year old girls before and past me. =)

It's official. I miss being a dormitoryana.

Note: The author was transferred to another women's dorm after Ilang-ilang when she was 19, but it has, sadly, failed to be what ILREHA was to an 18-year old she. And oh, she is no more a Banyo Queen. And no, I am not being defensive.

Kung Ano ang Inilalabas Mo sa Kubeta (theatrical adaptation)

Damn. I've been stuck mostly at home recently because of diarrhea. Little did I know that all this turmoil within me would spark the slightest college nostalgia. Below are pieces on "shit" that I wrote when I was a junior. I was casually browsing through some old documents yesterday, hoping that I could free Pacquito of his vintage trash and make way for better memory. Needless to say, with my overtly sentimental nature (I have kept all empty perfume bottles I used up over the years and a confidential notebook of all my personal purchases since freshman year--some of which are accompanied by receipts O.o), I only saved these vintage files in one folder (not one deleted *sighs*). Heck, if I were a psycho serial killer, I'd probably kept one body part from each victim hidden somewhere in my room.

The primary piece was performed by me, Gilyanne Blancaflor, and Nikki Simbre in Chamber Theatre under Dr. Belen Calingacion. We actually staged it in the girls' restroom in the "CAL (not so) New Building" on the fourth floor (if memory serves me right). We had to write then Dean Almario a letter to reserve the C.R. But we still held the restroom open for public usage (girls could pee and watch, if they wanted, along with the entire co-ed class). Eventually, a semester or two later, I heard from friends and fellow majors that Dr. Calingacion would refer to our banyo gig as "a good example" of the performance arts in her lectures in the same course. Grool (Great + Cool). Well, of course, the credit's not all ours. It all started with brilliant material from a certain Mr. Sherman Nones.

Enjoy!

Kung Ano ang Inilalabas Mo sa Kubeta ni Sherman C. Nones

First set of characters:

Nikki - N1-Narrator 1

Lara - N2-Narrator 2 (Bida’s feelings and some actions)

Lyanne - B-Bida

Second set of characters:

Narrator na lahat

N1, N2, B

Third set of characters:

N1-Narrator 1 (for tagalog vandals)

N2-Narrator 2 (for english vandals)

B-Bida (describing who or what kind of person wrote the vandal)

Fourth set of characters:

Same with first part

Another guy- either N1 or N2

First Part

N1: Maling kombinasyon ang kinain ng ating bida, ginataang saging at hilaw na mangga. Ang lalong masama, nasa paaralan na siya nang magsimulang magrebolusyon ang kanyang tiyan.

N2: Nanginginig, namumutla, at nanlalamig siya. Hindi na rin makausap ng matino. Tila tinalukbungan na ng langit ang lupa para sa kanya.

N1: Bago magtanghali, hindi na nakayanan ng ating bida.

B: Binitbit niya ang kanyang sandatang pandigma (tissue paper at sabon) at tumakbong simbilis ng mga mandurukot sa Quiapo papunta sa kubeta ng ikalawang palapag ng library.

N2: Sa cubicle niya pinasabog ang nagngangalit at dambuhalang bomba atomikang maka-isandaang beses ang lakas kaysa roon sa Hiroshima at Nagasaki.

N1: Matapos ng matinding labanan, nakaranas ng mala-paraisong kalagayan ang ating bida.

N2: Habang nakaupo pa sa maharlikang trono, isinagawa niya ang kanyang paboritong ritwal. Isa-isa niyang binasa ang mga bandalismong nakasulat sa pader at pinto ng cubicle, kahit ilang beses na niyang naulit ang mga ito

B: (baka nga naman may bagong dagdag sa mga nakalagay doon).

N2: Nagmukha siyang masisiraan ng bait dahil tumatawa siyang mag-isa. (Lyanne laughs) Lalong napalakas ang tawa ng ating bida nang mabasa niya ang dalawang vandals na mistulang ipinatatama sa kanyang kalagayan. (Lyanne laughs harder)

N1: Ano ba iyon?

N2: Vandal no.1-

B: Teka pare, pang-handicapped yata ang cubicle na ito, pero kung baog ka okey lang.

N1: Vandal no.2-

B: Hoy! Bawal tumae rito!

N2: Aba, hindi papayag na malamangan ang ating bida, kailangan niyang makabawi kahit papaano.

N1: Napakagandang puwesto ang cubicle na ito para sa kanyang binabalak.

N2: Inikot-ikot niya ang dalang pentel pen habang iniisip kung ano ang puwedeng maisagot sa dalawang vandals na tumira sa kanya. Ipamamalas niya ang bagsik ng kanyang isip, talino, at lakas.

B: Makikita ng mga tao ang tatak ng isang api. Humanda sila.

Second Part

B: Sino ba sa inyo ang hindi naaaliw sa pagbabasa at pagsusulat ng mga bandalismo sa kubeta? Bukod sa mga mahal nating tagapaglinis ng banyo, sa palagay ko, kakaunti lang. Kung pangalan mo ang nakasulat at ikaw ang binastos, malamang na hindi ka nga matutuwa. Sa kabilang dako, tuwang-tuwa ang karamihan sa atin habang binabasa ang mga malikhaing sulating ito. Naaaliw ka sa pagbabasa ng tabloid, di ba? Sa katulad na paraan din naman tayo nasisiyahan sa pagbabasa (at pagsulat siyempre) ng mga bandalismo sa kubeta.. Nasisiyahan ka dahil nauunawaan mo ang mensaheng gusting ipahatid sa iyo. Wika nga,

N1 and N2: you can relate yourself to it.

B: Kapag pumapasok ka sa cubicle ng banyo, sigurado akong hindi mo halos maiwasang basahin ang mga nakasulat doon. Aminin mo man o hindi, interesado ka ring mabasa at malaman ang mga ito. Habang binabasa, para kang ulol na tumatawang mag-isa, kahit na alam mong hindi naman totoo ang lahat ng sinasabi roon. Bakit? Naaangkop at nababagay kasi sa ating kalagayan

N1 and N2: (bilang kabataan at mag-aaral)

B: ang mga paksa at temang tinatalakay ng mga bandalismong iyon. Mawawalan ka ng gana kung ang mga nakasulat doon ay tungkol kay Atang Dela Rama at sa kanyang sarsuwela; kung nakapustiso ba si Manuel Quezon; kung ilan ang kalyo sa paa ni Apolinario Mabini; kung marami bang dumi ang bigas na kinakain ng mga Pilipino noong nakaraang dalawang siglo; kung ano ang paboritong alagang hayop ng mga Tasaday at Igorot, at marami pang natutulad na mga paksa na walang kinalaman sa interes at buhay nating mga estudyante. Hindi patok sa atin ang ganitong uri ng bandalismo. Dapat nasa antas ng ating pag-iisip, at kailangang nasa kausuhan din.

N1: Bukod sa pagiging nababagay sa atin ng mga bandalismo, isang paraan din ito upang mailarawan kung sino at ano ba tayo. Huwag mong maliitin dahil sa pamamagitan ng bandalismo sa banyo, ipinahahayag nito ang mga ideya at konseptong nakapaloob sa komunidad na ating ginagalawan. Masusulyapan mo kahit kaunti kung anong uri ng mga tao ang naririto at kung anong mga bagay ang kanilang pinaniniwalaan. Nariyan din ang hanaing, sama ng loob, at suliranin ng mga mag-aaral, at iba pang nakapupukaw-interes na mga paksa. Ito ang natatagong tinig ng mga estudyante sa paaralan, ngunit napakalakas ng hiyaw nito. Sumakatuwid, isang uri ng labasan ang mga bandalismo.

N2: Upang masapatan ang timbang na emosyonal na pangangailangan, inilalabas nito ang masasalimuot at natatagong paniniwala nating mga mag-aaral. Nagsisilbing susi ang bandalismo upang mabuksan at maisiwalat ang nilalaman ng pinakapribadong silid ng isang indibiduwal. Kasama na rito ang lahat ng madidilim na ideya at konseptong hindi maaaring pag-usapan sa loob ng ating komunidad. Totoo ito lalo na sa ating paaralang patuloy na nagbabawal sa ganitong uri ng mga paksa. Samakatuwid, magagawa ng isang mag-aaral ang pagsisiwalat na iyan sa isang lugar kung saan ang kanyang sarili lamang at walang iba, ang makapagmamasid at makasasaksi sa napakahalagang pangyayaring iyon. Oo, sa loob lamang ng kubeta maisasakatuparan ang paghahayag sa pamamagitan ng bandalismo. Kaya hindi ka magtataka kung bakit mabigat, malalim, mapanira, mapanlait, mapang-api, bastos, at makahayop ang mga nakasulat sa pader at pintuan ng banyo- nanggagaling kasi iyon sa pinakaloob-looban ng isang tao.

B: Handa ka na bang buksan ang sarili at basahing muli ang mga ito? Kung isa kang taong mapagmasid, mapapansin mo ang sari-saring kategorya ng bandalismo sa mga kubeta dito sa ating kolehiyo.

All: Narito ang ilan sa kanila:

N1: [Paunawa: Kinuha ang mga bandalismong ito sa mga kubeta ng lalaki at babae dito sa kampus ng kolehiyo. Ang ilan dito ay hindi na makikita pa sa dahilang nabura na ito ng masisipag na mga dyanitor. Kailangan ang patnubay ng mga magulang habang binabasa. Pakisuyong buksang maigi ang isipan.]

Third Part

B: GUSTO NG PAG-IBIG:

N2: Make love not war

B: DESPERADO SA PAG-IBIG:

N1: Crush na crush ko si A.P.

B: UMIIBIG:

N2: KP loves CB

B: BAWAL NA PAG-IBIG:

N2: For manly love, be here at 9:00 a.m. Sept. 15

B: SINAGOT ANG PAANYAYA NG BAWAL NA PAG-IBIG:

N1: Ang sarap, next time uli

B: PAGTATAKA SA BAKLA:

N1: Ang suwerte natin sa Ateneo, kay dami-raming superbabes-chicks. Tanong ko, bat may nagiging bakla pa tulad ni ___________? (hanapin ang pangalan sa 2^nd floor ng libraray)

B: KAILANGAN NG BAKLA:

N2: With him whose dick is large, gays are satisfied

B: KAMATAYAN PARA SA BAKLA:

N2: The remedy for gays who have no more remedy is death

B: TAKOT SA BAKLA:

N2: When I die please don’t bury me upside down for gays will fuck my dead ass

B: USAPAN LABAN SA BAKLA:

N2: Don’t have sex with yourself. But if you really want, bring someone along, preferably not gay.

N1: A guy? Bading ka talaga!

B: PINAG-USAPAN ANG BINABALAK:

N2: I want to take yout throbbing dick into my mouth.

N1: Sana ako rin!

N2: Sure, just name the time and place

N1: CR at Faura, 6:30 Wednesday

B: PUSTAHAN AT USAPAN:

N1: Pustahan tayo hawak mo titi mo ngayon

N2: Hindi, hawak ko puwet ko

N1: Hawak ko titi ng iba, gago!

N2: Bakla ka pala!

B: GALIT SA PAARALAN:

N2: School sucks

B: GALIT SA KARIBAL NA PAARALAN:

N1: DLSU- paaralan ng mga bobo’t tanga

B: GALIT SA MGA FRESHMEN:

N2: Freshmen have bad grammar

B: GALIT SA LAHAT NG TAO:

N2: You’re all assholes

B: GALIT SA LAHAT NG TAO (BERSIYONG PINOY):

N1: Pak yu ashul

B: GALIT SA GURO AT PARI:

(kayo na lang ang maghanap dahil marami dyan)

B: PINAGBINTANGAN ANG SARILI:

N2: I killed Versace

B: PINAGBINTANGAN ANG BABAE:

N2: She took my sperm without permission

B: PINAGBINTANGAN ANG LOLO:

N1: Lolo mo baog

B: MAUTAK:

N1: Pangit ako, mas pangit ang bumasa

B: MAHILIG MANOOD:

N2: A squatter who enjoys watching them while ja**ing off

B: GUWAPO AT PINAKAMAGANDANG PUWET:

N1: _____________ is fucking guwapo

N2: ___________ has the best ass in town

(isang tao lang iyan, hanapin ang pangalan sa 2^nd floor ng library)

B: ISA ULING GUWAPO:

N1: Ang cute ni ___________.. does he have a GF?

B: KUNG NAGING BABAE RAW ANG GUWAPO:

N2: If he was a girl, he’d be a bitch

B: NAMBIBISTO:

N2: Lesbians masturbate here

B: NAGUGUTOM:

N2: I’ll eat your pussy

B: NABABANGUHAN:

N1: Puke mo mabango

B: NABABAHUAN:

N1: Ang babaho ng titi ninyo!

B: NASASARAPAN:

N1: Ang sarap magpa “BJ”… Buko Juice

B: NAGSAGUTAN:

N2: You’re all fucking assholes!

N1: Not me, I’m a fucking pussy!

N2: Fuck yourself!

B: PAREHONG AMOY:

N1: Puke ni _________ amoy bagoong!

B: PAGSISIYASAT:

N2: We are having a survey on virgins and non-virgins. If you care to answer or fill out this table, please do

B: (may listahan at table pang kasama; tingnan sa 2^nd floor ng library

B: PANANAKOT:

N2: The time comes when the three shall come, the worlds will collide and darkness will reign forever

B: PANANAKOT SA MGA NAGSUSULAT:

N2: Vandalism leads to suspension

B: PANANAKOT SA LALAKI:

N1: Habang umiihi ka’t binabasa mo ito, alam ko kung ano ang hinahawakan mo

B: KAWAWA:

N1: Kawawa ka naman hanggang sulat at jakol ka na lang, tsk, tsk, tsk

B: NALULUNGKOT:

N2: Life is a paradox, happiness cannot exist without misery

B: NALULUNGKOT AT NAKAKAAWA:

N2: In this cubicle I will kill myself, sabi sa akin I won’t solve anything daw, but what I have solved to begin with?

N2: I’m such a fuck-up, a lousy excuse for a human

B: NAKAKAAWA (BERSIYONG NG MGA MAKATA):

N2: Here I sit, broken-hearted, tried to shit but only farted

B: NAGPAPAYO:

N2: Everybody, we’re not losers, don’t ever think that, we’re just late bloomers

B: NAGPAPAYO TUNGKOL SA MATH

N2: Don’t give math midterms an opportunity to kill you, commit suicide now

B: NAGPAPAYO TUNGKOL SA PAG-UTOT:

N2: It is better to fart and feel the shame than not to fart and feel the pain

B: NAGPAPAYO SA MGA NAKAUPO SA INIDORO:

N2: If you’re sitting there right now, please aim well and shoot it!

B: NAGDUDUDA KAY BABAE:

N1: ______, totoo ba ang dyoging mo?

B: HUMIHILING KAY BABAE:

N1: ______, pakantot, libog na libog na ako sa iyo

(iisang babae lang ang tinutukoy ng dalawang ito; mahahanap ang pangalan sa 2^nd floor ng library)

B: NAGYAYABANG:

N2: I fucked ______ in the ass

B: NILAIT ANG NAGYAYABANG:

N1: Tanga ka hanggang puwet ka lang, ako puke niya kinantot ko

B: NAGTATANONG:

N2: Do you want to be sucked?

B: NAGTATANONG (BERSIYON NG MGA BANAL):

N1: Brod, ba’t ang baboy mo mag-isip tungkol sa babae?

B: NAGTATANONG KUNG BABAE:

N1: Babae ba siya? May dodo ba siya? Suso meron?

B: NAGTATANONG TUNGKOL SA BIOLOGY:

N2: Do you know that the average length of the great human penis is 5-7 inches?

B: ININSULTO ANG NAGTATANONG TUNGKOL SA BIOLOGY:

N1: Kawawa naman sa iyo, kulang

B: LUBOS NA NAGPAPASALAMAT:

N2: Thank God, for once that I’m an average person

B: HATOL SA MGA NAGBABASA AT NAGSUSULAT:

N2: Those who wrote on bathroom walls turn their shit into tiny balls, those who read these words of wit eat those tiny balls of shit

B: PARA SA LAHAT NG NAGBABASA NG ARTIKULONG ITO: Memories they fade like the writing on this wall, but you are more than a memory, I won’t forget you all.

Fourth Part

N2: Tumayo ang ating bida (siyempre naghugas muna siya). Nakaisip na siya ng maisusulat bilang ganti sa bandalismong nang-insulto kuno sa kanya.

N1: Mas maganda siguro kung sa pinto niya isulat, para makita agad ng taong papasok sa cubicle.

N2: Kinuha niya ang pentel pen at isinulat:

N1: Vandal no.3-

B: Kapag pumasok ka sa cubicle na ito, inaamin mong pangit at baog ka tulad ng mga nagsulat sa loob.

N2: Vandal no.4-

B: Bigo ka ba sa mga babae? Bakit hindi subukang umibig sa lalaki? Hintayin mo ako tuwing alas-singko ng hapon. Malalasap mo ang sarap ng kakaibang uri ng pag-ibig..

N2: Nagsusuklay at nagpapaguwapo na ang ating bida nang biglang may pumasok. Papasok dapat ito sa cubicle na pinanggalingan ng bida. Nakita nito ang nakasulat sa pinto. Medyo nagulat pero napangiti ito. Hindi na ito tumuloy sa cubicle na iyon. Baka natakot. Kinabahan siguro.

N1: Pinipigilan niya ang kanyang tawa habang tinitingnan ang reaksiyon ng bagong pasok. Paglabas niya sa kubeta, (suggestion: tatawa na lang siguro siya rito para mas effective) Ang sarap at gaan ng kanyang pakiramdam. Tagumpay na naman ang ating bida.

Concept Paper on the Staging of Kung Ano ang Inilalabas mo sa Kubeta by Sherman C. Nones:

In the John

Kung Ano ang Inilalabas mo sa Kubeta—the very title speaks of anything but literary romanticization. It is unguarded, unadorned, and quite vulgar, as a wide open hamper of dirty laundry, worn shirts and thrice-worn (and maybe even more) jeans and used underwear included. Of course, if one were to find things other than beauty, propriety, and sanitation to be delicate matters, one’s initial reaction would be something along the lines of “Eww!” or “What the—!” or a plain meeting of the eyebrows and an entire face of mixed questions and revulsion.

This piece by Sherman C. Nones here, I believe, is one of those stories that somehow aim to make some literary sense and even an artistic expression of what is often unspoken (especially at the dinner table) by presenting the rawness of such realities, free of feathers and fuss and all that jazz. Stories like The Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler, Penis Talks by Ricky Lee, and even MacArthur by Bob Ong all demonstrate that certain openness that requires not only skill but a lot of guts and a deep understanding of the ugliness of reality, of the Jekyll of Mr. Hyde, of the monster of Dr. Frankenstein. “And why must they still possess some skills if all they have are potty mouths?” one may ask. Not everything on paper that mirrors life may be considered literature, even moreso “good literature.” Right now, I can only think of tasteless showbiz columns by the likes of Lolit Solis and Bulgar news updates on the latest unknown sexy starlet as examples of this exclusion. The realism found in the aforementioned “genuine” pieces of literature, on the other hand, conveys truths that may disgust, amaze, and present the reader with that mocking, in-your-face kind of defamiliarization but still without sounding like a spattering, dirty mouth on the streets—well, unless that is part of the author’s intention.

And so, why limit Kung Ano ang Inilalabas to the romantic and detached presence of the stage, of a raised platform that floats over an audience on which scenes may range from a dexterous rendering of swordfights or a conversation between lovers by a terrace? Why not go all the way and bring it to where it really belongs, that is, in the john? I envision the chamber theatre adaptation of this text to take place in an actual public restroom where the performers may be able to take advantage of the setting more and, of course, where the audience will be given a fresh kind of literary as well as “theatrical” experience. I am well aware that this is not the first time such a feat will be accomplished as Dr. Calingacion has already recounted the same staging technique that her students employed several semesters ago. However, I cannot imagine a more suitable place for this text, not because I lack imagination (for I’d like to believe that I have enough to supply me with for my obsession other than talking: writing) but because I prefer to obliterate that wall that sort of separates the performance from the audience just so they can “feel” and relate to the scene even more effectively. Quite frankly, I also like the idea of the added entertainment of such quirks and foibles that only the performance arts can let one get away with. And what better place could it be than a real, “hardcore” palikuran? A one-act, one-run play in the public C. R. is really not something that people may encounter every day.

Regarding the characters, I do not think that it hurts the slightest bit for this piece to be enacted by an all-female cast of performers even if the text clearly suggests that the character, Bida, was actually a guy. This certain hint is found in the vandals that Bida gets to read which refer to “boy” stuff such as getting blowjobs and what have you, although there’s a part where the vandals being cited are claimed to have been dished out from restrooms of men and women alike. Nevertheless, it was a disclaimer personally delivered by a narrator in the third person of the multiple interior ominiscience nature, so that automatically clears responsibility off Bida as far as sharing purposes are concerned. Making the characters, including the narrators (instead of just one—I shall discuss this later), female will require omissions in the text just so it may fit the feminine context of the scenes. I also believe that Bida must always be included in the whole act even if she does not say any lines because it’ll definitely be too awkward if she just freezes on the toilet. Basically, there will be no multiple entrances and exits through out the act—just three personae mulling over the curiousness of vandalism in the powder room. The narrator is also going to branch out into two characters/narrators (who, I plan, will be donning unconventional, inappropriate, and perhaps indecent clothing—i. e. cheap, vulgar attire with torn fishnet stockings—that will make the scene more surreal and even underscore the vulgarity of the text, as I admit the lines are anything but bishop-friendly) as some sort of omniscient observers who happen to provide the audience a window that look out not only into the thoughts of Bida but more importantly, into the idiosyncrasies, quirkiness, and cheekiness of the people who vandalize and hide behind the cloak of anonymity—the enclosed cubicles, that is—comfortably. These narrators will have an exchange of dialogues and monologues that may or may not directly interact with those of Bida herself. An additional character will also be present at the end of the act (the one who gets to read Bida’s vandals and in effect, refuses to enter the same cubicle) but hers is only a cameo that I think is necessary in order to provide the same feeling the text’s ending wants to put across. Hopefully, the performance will be as light and comic as Nones’ writing.

Overall, Kung Ano ang Inilalabas is a voyeur’s peek at people’s habit of vandalizing in the private trappings of the bathroom, letting out waste in a different way, that is, through language—something that all of us will be able to relate to, well, unless we’ve been living beneath rocks and have missed the opportunity to make use of the public comfort room. Apparently, if “involved” students and outspoken people take it out on the streets through public demonstrations, some actually vent their frustrations on the walls and doors of helpless cubicles—a somewhat “underground” kind of revolution that may also have a huge impact on the public restroom-using society. And it is this mystery that shrouds such an act of revolt and personal expression that really makes this desecration of public utilities a laughing and yet touchy matter. What can I say? If you can’t fight it, ride with it. I shall end this with one of my personal favorite vandals—as I am an avid reader myself—that I have encountered in one of the many artistic, tiled spaces in this university: “Kill the vandals, kill the ideas!” to which one responded “Death of the signifier ≠ (not equal to) Death of the signified.” Indeed.

Analysis of Kung Ano ang Inilalabas mo sa Kubeta by Sherman C. Nones:

How to Tell Taboos

This short narrative story that my groupmates and I have encountered has a very “Filipino” sense of humor—the dark kind, in fact. I would like to believe that it is dark humor in a sense that it deals with matters that are considered quite vulgar for public discussion among what one may consider “decent, civilized people.” Those people who have been raised by parents who abhorred and reprimanded every cuss word that may escape their mouths, whether it was intentionally uttered or accidentally let loose by force of habit, people who were constantly told that “you are what you say” and that not-so-eloquent Rosanna Roces was a “palengkera” and whom one must not mold oneself after. These people, having had the chance to know the do’s and don’ts of ethics and etiquette, are now also familiar with the concept of “taboo.” Basically, Kung Ano ang Inilalabas is a piece on taboo and how students—or public C.R. users in this case—discuss and react around all these issues of taboo, needless to say, in the comfort of the cubicles of restrooms through the art of vandalism.

In a world that is fast shrinking, thanks to—or “no, thanks to,” depends on which side you’re on—the colonial idea of a world without strangers, it is a small wonder that human beings still find that “secret garden,” if you may, of flowers and butterflies and trees, both wilting and alive, of taboo—that enclosed space which cages in all kinds of thought that must not be included in the wider field of discourse that the modern society adopts in its everyday interpersonal communication. With the rise—and continuing, uncontrollable ascent, in fact—of the Internet where all possible data can be accessed by virtually anyone in this planet who happens to be computer-literate, one may wonder, “Why are we still not talking about certain things when everything is out in the open, available for the taking?” The 21^st Century then, one finds, is not exactly an “absolutely free age of thinking.” Usernames and pseudonyms are still common on the net if only to hide the real identities of those people who do not mind to not be instant celebrities freshly fished out of MySpace or YouToube—an endless list of secret identities and alter egos that leave the U.S. and USSR espionage programs no say and that put to shame the classic and historical basket case, Sybil and her many split personalities. Having taken this into consideration, it then becomes a paradox: the global village is supposed to make the field of discourse freer through the net, progressive intercultural communication as well as promotion of a more forward kind of thinking in different societies such as ours, and yet, more vacancy is reserved for taboo because we are also given more opportunities to hide behind screens and screens of anonymity that are made possible by the advancement of technology and of course, the convenience of private spaces in public areas, e. g. the public restrooms. Isn’t it fascinating that you can actually connect all that infringement of public property to a more extensive matter such as the society? Taboo, after all, is a product of repressed thought, of the controlled discourse as dictated by the status quo, and of people who are willing to tolerate these forms of repression. Even Nones’ narrator mentions these ideas in the story every now and then.

I am not saying that we should openly talk about our sex lives (if any), how we love our vaginas (as in Eve Ensler’s masterpiece), or even the unique habits we happen to have adopted as we take a dump (I know a friend who actually weeps during the entire performance—yes, weeps, as in “sheds tears,” “cries” without the accompanying feeling of sadness, apparently for no reason at all). I am only questioning why we teach our children to call the male and female genitals in metaphors: “the birdie and the flower,” “the key in the lock,” “the dog and the pussy,” and what have you. I am wondering why it is more normal to be heterosexual, lest one ends up being called a “faggot” or a “dyke.” This is when the power of language is most tangible as we stack bricks on top of bricks to form a wall that we have built to imprison ourselves in a certain kind of code when language is supposedly a key to set us free. Personally, this is how I interpret the existence of taboo and how it comes to be what it is: a risky subject, a fear of the unknown when it is actually something known and yet people pretend that it’s not there only because they believe that the world may be better off without it. I remember Morgan Freeman as quoted to have said, “You want an end to racial discrimination? Then stop talking about it.” He’s definitely a screen legend and I admire him for that but I honestly think that Rosa Parks (an African-American seamstress who, back in the 50’s, refused to surrender her seat on a bus to a white man, the simple act of which has spurred the modern civil rights movement in the USA) had a lot more dignity and a whole lot more common sense. For instance, does ignoring the occurrence of incestuous relationships make them disappear? Not likely. This and other questions in my head have led me to the theory that if a literary epic is what Don Dumlao—my favorite professor in Filipino as well as a Palanca 3^rd Prize Winner—calls “a society’s collective dreaming,” then taboo is what I call the “society’s collective denial,” a sort of collective silence that is passed onto generations no matter what time and age the world is in.

This is, by far, my most favorite paragraph in Kung Ano ang Inilalabas:

Upang masapatan ang timbang na emosyonal na pangangailangan, inilalabas nito ang masasalimuot at natatagong paniniwala nating mga mag-aaral. Nagsisilbing susi ang bandalismo upang mabuksan at maisiwalat ang nilalaman ng pinakapribadong silid ng isang indibiduwal. Kasama na rito ang lahat ng madidilim na ideya at konseptong hindi maaaring pag-usapan sa loob ng ating komunidad….Samakatuwid, magagawa ng isang mag-aaral ang pagsisiwalat na iyan sa isang lugar kung saan ang kanyang sarili lamang at walang iba, ang makapagmamasid at makasasaksi sa napakahalagang pangyayaring iyon. Oo, sa loob lamang ng kubeta maisasakatuparan ang paghahayag sa pamamagitan ng bandalismo. Kaya hindi ka magtataka kung bakit mabigat, malalim, mapanira, mapanlait, mapang-api, bastos, at makahayop ang mga nakasulat sa pader at pintuan ng banyo—nanggagaling kasi iyon sa pinakaloob-looban ng isang tao.

It’s these matters that Nones’ piece centers on and how people counteract them by unleashing the monsters within and writing their darkest, deepest thoughts—whether real or imagined—on walls that others may read, that others may discover and actually relate to. And what better walls could there be than those found in cubicles in public comfort rooms, the regular C. R. of which may be frequented by say, a thousand people summoned by the call of nature, a day? Some vandals only aim to express themselves, some need responses, and some even want to satisfy their carnal passions through this medium, but they all have this common denominator and that is the privilege of anonymity. Frankly, I have not yet read a vandal that said something like “Join the NPA! Join the Revolution! Signed (insert name of whoever is sick enough to do such a thing).” After all, vandalism is infringement of public property and is therefore, illegal. One may get arrested if one is caught or at least made to pay a fine of a great deal of pesos. It is basically a small crime and yet people have come to indulge in it as some kind of art or a mere outlet from all this massive emotional and psychological masquerade in which we partake.

I once read that Freud described a “taboo patient” as someone who “adopted the avoidance of writing down her name for fear it might get into somebody’s hands who thus would come into possession of a piece of her personality. In her frenzied faithfulness, which she needed to protect herself against the temptations of her phantasy, she had created for herself the commandment, ‘not to give away anything of her personality’ (quoted from Bonnie Friedman in an article among my readings in a Fiction writing class). So maybe those cubicles are somehow pages of fiction in their own right—perhaps antifiction, or even creative nonfiction. Nevertheless, Nones, as well as other daring authors (even better writers such as Ensler and Lorrie Moore, for example), has made it quite clear that there is room for taboo in literature, that fiction may be the only way these secrets can come out in the open even if it is in the form of the toilet and the walls that surround that sacred yet most inelegant space.