Pilipino Figure Skater at Sochi: The Satisfaction of a Dream Realized

Pilipinos love winning - blame it on having always been stuck in the shadows of their big (pronounced "imperialistic") brothers. So when competitions like Miss Universe and American Idol are on, you can most certainly find Pilipinos tuned in, clapping at their TV screens and speed-texting their votes (although on any other day, most parents magically forget how to use a cellphone). They love rooting for who they perceive to be the “perpetual underdog,” because when the Pilipino underdog wins, all Pilipinos win too -- and it’s sure to be plastered all over Facebook and shared with coworkers at lunch the next day. Sure, it takes skill to compete. But in a world where some competitions can be based solely on audience support (even Miss Philippines advanced to the Top 16 via an online vote in last year’s Miss Universe), how could Pilipinos push a young Pilipino figure skater at the Winter Olympics to victory?

They couldn’t. Because this time, their underdog was alone, relying only on his sheer skill and talent in a sport that practically none of his countrymen dare to try.

Before even stepping onto the ice at Sochi, seventeen-year-old Michael Christian Martinez had already been considered a winner in his own right. He is the first figure skater ever from a Southeast Asian country to participate in the Winter Olympics and the lone athlete to represent the Philippines in only its fourth showing ever at the Games. Could this be the year that a Pilipino figure skater might finally earn a spot on the podium?

SPOILER ALERT:

The answer is no. At the end of the Men's Short Program, Martinez’s score was enough to qualify him for a shot at a medal in the Men's Free Skating Program, but he finished 19th overall. There was no “losing” and certainly no “failing” here; he simply just didn’t get a medal. While a medal might have been what viewers equated to a victory, skating at the Olympics in itself was what Martinez considered the real prize, especially given his humble beginnings in a tropical country without snow.

By chasing his dream, he has opened doors for other Pilipino figure skaters and has reintroduced the Philippines to the rest of the world as resilient and mighty, especially in the wake of Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan), along with other storms.

In 2005, at the age of eight, Martinez laced up after being mesmerized by ice skaters at a shopping mall. Nearly ten years later, he would be setting foot on Olympic ice as the youngest skater in the program. Despite suffering from asthma, Martinez’s natural talent for figure skating became apparent and eventually he entered the circuit, winning medal after medal in competitions all over the world. Soon enough, he had his sights set on the Olympics. The passion and talent were there, but the funds unfortunately were not.

Martinez is a modern-day Cinderella man. His family struggled to support his training. His skates weren’t always made of the best quality. His Olympic coaches based in the United States cost a fortune. He wasn’t able to put in the ideal number of hours it took to properly train, because without a dedicated rink in the Philippines, he often had to share space with the public. There was no financial aid available to him from the government. Yet through it all, Martinez persevered and would often turn to prayer, even imploring his Facebook fans to pray for him just hours before his turn in Sochi.

This young boy may not have a medal to show for his efforts, but instead he has the satisfaction of a dream realized to elevate him higher than any podium ever could. By chasing his dream, he has opened doors for other Pilipino figure skaters and has reintroduced the Philippines to the rest of the world as resilient and mighty, especially in the wake of Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan), along with other storms.

Martinez is slated to compete again in the 2018 Winter Olympics. By then, he will be more mature, more experienced, more confident... and maybe even flanked by a lot more fellow athletes from the Philippines. Perhaps he’ll even win a medal, and viewers will witness a victory based on precision, not popularity. A victory that is his, and not theirs.

Photo credit: EPA

Introducing LEGACY: an Organization Forging a New Generation of Youth Leaders

It is often said the world is made up of two types of people: leaders and followers. Determined to be the former, I've involved myself in community organizing throughout my undergraduate career, particularly within the Pilipino community. Like many youth leaders new to the game, I encountered frustrating issues like a loss of motivation from fellow team members, minimal interest or knowledge of cultural history, disorganized planning, and lack of collaboration. The worst part? These problems persisted because of the quick turnaround time for student leaders. Once a team learned from their mistakes, the incoming team would end up committing the same mistakes only months later. Then, student leaders would graduate, take on greater community leadership roles, and pass along those practices to form a cycle of inefficiency. There was no solution, that's just the way it was. Until now. LEGACY – Leadership, Education, Guidance, and Critical thinking for the Youth – is a new organization tackling these issues at their core. LEGACY aims to build a collective of action-driven people to raise new standards for community leaders through mentorship and development programs.

The organization is the brainchild of Kristina Joyas, who in October 2013 tapped Marc Densing, Christine Sicwaten, and myself to form a founding team. Joyas's experience includes the National Organizing Committee for AF3IRM, as well as serving as UniPro's own founding Vice President and former Director of Staff Development. The rest of us are currently rooted in the college sphere. Densing serves as the National Chairperson for F.I.N.D. Inc. Sicwaten (also a UniPro staff member) is on the Executive Board of F.I.N.D. District Three and was the former president of Stony Brook's PUSO. Lastly, I'm currently serving as president of NYU's International Filipino Association. We combined our forces, identified red flags, and shared our passion for leadership to build the foundation of LEGACY, officially launching this year.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D2dqIqGD1X8

In the wake of LEGACY's launch, we'd like to announce upcoming initiatives including:

• "Leave Your Legacy" Series – This lecture series invites prominent and seasoned senior community organizers to impart their invaluable knowledge and experiences, TED talks-style.

• Project LEAD (Leadership Education and Development) – This is a summer-intensive project for rising leaders. It features weekly workshops which fostering necessary hard skills to encourage success among members of a group or organization.

• LEGACY Fellowship – This fellowship invites a small cohort of aspiring leaders to participate in an individualized 10-month-long mentorship, building a foundation of Pilipino cultural education and continual leadership development.

• National youth conferences – LEGACY will be facilitating leadership workshops at major youth leader conferences. Earlier this month, we attended the Southern California Pilipino American Student Association (SCPASA) Summit 2014, and will be heading to the East Coast Asian American Students Union Conference (ECAASU), Kapihan at Cornell University, and other upcoming events for the year across the nation.

Now more than ever, LEGACY is needed to create a collective of leaders up for the challenge of matching the Fil-Am community's growing scope and expanding needs. LEGACY's big picture envisions national coalition and goals to build a model to be used in other communities outside Pilipinos. For now, however, we are calling you to action. If you know someone itching to be a leader, someone already doing community work, or someone who has the potential and just might not know it yet – point them in LEGACY's direction.

Learn more at http://createourlegacy.org. Plus, find us on twitter: @CreateOurLEGACY

Filipino Arts Renaissance: Jana Lynne Umipig

Jana Lynne Umipig does not need words to tell stories. The actress, writer, and creator of The Journey of a Brown Girl, an experimental theater production, extends her vocabulary to her limbs. “Physical theater takes in mind, body, and spirit,” she says.

“You’re taught how to connect your physical self to everything else.”

The Journey of a Brown Girl puts a spotlight on women’s issues through the experience, culture, struggle, and history of Filipino women. There is no linear story, rather, it is told in vignettes built from personal accounts and interviews similar in style to The Vagina Monologues by Eve Ensler, one of Umipig’s favorite writers. The piece originated in 2010 as a Umipig’s one woman show and capstone project while studying educational theater at New York University. Eventually, it became adapted for performance by a collective of Filipina performers. Journey is now in rehearsals for a rewritten version debuting at The Actor’s Fund Arts Center in downtown Brooklyn March 2014. The scenes are electric and the characters are unapologetically in-your-face. Umipig may not be an actress for this production but her vision and voice resonate.

“Right now, I will tell you this is not a play, this is a movement. I will say it over and over again, The Journey of a Brown Girl is a movement––a movement to tap into our greatest creators as Pinay women and what that really means,” she says.

Journey's five characters are named Earth, Fire, Wind, Light, and Water. Umipig’s writings were inspired by interviews with prominent Filipino women she admired. They ranged from Rocky Rivera, a rapper, to Alleluiua Panis, founder of non-profit Filipino tribal arts organization Kularts, to Allyson Tintiangco-Cubale, who spearheaded San Francisco’s Filipino education programs. Perla Daly, the founder of Pinay.com, inspired a monologue by the character called Fire.

Daly created the website as retaliation to discovering that “Filipina.com,” along with other similar domains, were mail-order bride sites, explicit pornography sources, and pages of women looking for “foreign pen pals, friends, and husbands.” In the production, a woman sits in front of a projector, while screenshots of web pages displaying exploited, sexualized Filipina women are scrolled through:

“I felt miserable at how these sites used ‘Filipina’ within their domains. These sites are disturbing for the following reasons–they exploit Filipina beauty and femininity for online profit; they idealize Filipina commoditization, commercialism and chauvinism; they further exploit women who are already economically and socially disadvantaged; and many market under aged womyn.”

While images of objectified Filipina women continue projecting, Fire’s mouth gets covered with a cloth. She struggles to remove it from her mouth and once it is forced off, she screams.

Umipig, a Honolulu native who also grew up in Stockton, California, says she was born an artist but never dabbled in theater until high school. A chance conversation with a teacher inspired her to audition for a Shakespeare class that led her to competitions doing scenes out of Shakespeare. She eventually enrolled in a conservatory at Cal State Fullerton for singing, dancing, and acting, but found the rigid structure limiting.

The beginnings of Journey started in Umipig’s new college UC Irvine, where she joined Kababayan, the Filipino student organization on campus. As a cultural coordinator, she was in charge of producing music and dance showcases and staging plays by Filipino writers. She would become president of the 1000-member club, but before that studied abroad in Italy for two months in Accademia dell’Arte to practice physical theater.

Like any other aspiring artist she soon landed in New York City. Around this time, Typhoon Ondoy devastated the Philippines. Umipig searched for a Filipino community to help with relief efforts and joined Damayan Migrant Workers Association, a grassroots organization of Filipino migrant workers. She joined Damayan at the start of her research for Journey.  The most crucial players in the realization of Journey, however, were women she met at the Center for Babaylan Studies in San Francisco, an organization that seeks to preserve traditional Filipino indigenous and spiritual traditions. Umipig discovered the notion of kapwa, or the innate recognition and connection Filipinos feel with one another. The Babaylan women acted like mentors.

“Letecia [Leyson] was my kindred spirit because she was a mover. When I was distraught she’d ask me: when was the last time you danced? Or sang? Or created? It was these conversations I was having that were not only creating this art piece, but they were creating me,” she reflects.

Umipig does not romanticize the “starving artist” cliché.

“At the end of the day we live in New York City; we have to make a livelihood for ourselves, and I believe that everyone should be able to do work that feeds them everywhere: artistry, passion… food,” she says.

“I will spend every last penny that I have to feed this work.”

Umipig works full-time as a youth arts educator at the non-profit El Puente in Brooklyn. She teaches theater classes for beginners and advanced students, as well as mentors young artists individually. Meanwhile, she has been relentless with her fundraising efforts. She launched a campaign on Indiegogo and raised $6,134. Everyday, she updates Journey’s Facebook page with personalized notes of gratitude for individual donors.

The goal for Journey is for it to travel as a living, breathing work interpreted by multiple communities outside of Filipinos.

“These are all big dreams that I see feasible. They will happen. My god, these nine women will change the world.”

Donate to The Journey of a Brown Girl here.

Photo Credit: Gecile Fojas, Sachi Villareal

What's Another Round Fruit?

December 31^st, or New Year’s Eve, is the time of year that calls for many different traditions. Whether it’s sporting parkas and triple layers and preparing for the bitter cold of Time Square, or donning party clothes and preparing to clink glasses and share kisses at midnight, each person has their own way of celebrating. For my family, aside from another excuse to fill our table with food, New Year’s Eve brings the frantic search for twelve round fruits. On December 31^st, my mother, sisters, and I pile into the car, hopping from one grocery store to another. We realize each year, with a refreshed sense of bewilderment, just how difficult it is to find such a large – and strange – number of circular fruits. Hectic, but always fun, this practice is fairly new to my household. My dad claims that it is a Filipino tradition, but if so, I wonder why is it that we only recently started scouring Yonkers and beyond for oranges, cantaloupes, and grapefruits. If ringing in the New Year with twelve edible spheres is so deeply embedded into our culture, then why only during my high school years did this become part of our New Year’s repertoire?

Chinese Influence

Perhaps my dad’s hesitance lay in the fact that the collection of twelve round fruits is not an idea originally conceived by the Pilipinos but the Chinese. A way of petitioning prosperity for the incoming year, the Chinese adorn their tables with eight – a number that signifies good luck – round fruits. Pilipinos later adopted this concept, changing the number of fruits from eight to twelve, symbolizing each of the twelve months. This is not the only tradition the Philippines borrowed from the Chinese. Pilipinos also have become quite fond of Chinese customs, such as presenting children with money in red envelopes and, at the stroke of midnight, jumping with a coin in hand. So extensive is Chinese influence on Pilipino traditions that even when banned from using firecracker, an age-old Chinese method of ushering in the New Year, some Pilpinos mimic the practice by banging on pots and pans.

Authentic Pilipino Tradition

With this much foreign influence blurring the lines between borrowed routines and authentic Pilipino traditions, the question remains: Which New Year’s traditions can Pilipinos call their own? Yes, the Chinese loaned us numerous practices, but for every "stolen" tradition, we have just as many that are specific to the Philippines. Only Pilipinos swing their doors, windows, and cabinets wide open to draw in good fortunes. Only Pilipinos avoid chicken, hen, or any type of bird as a main course, for fear their luck will fly away with the meal. And only Pilipinos wear polka-dots as a prayer for prosperity, a custom so distinct that it appears on Mediait's list of The Most Unique and Unusual New Year's Traditions from Around the World. Indeed, many of the rituals Pilipinos observe are foreign-born, but that does not mean that the Philippines does not tote its own specific traditions that set it apart it from other Asian cultures.

Pretty Hurts: Why the Philippines Loves Beauty Pageants

Pilipino beauty pageant winners dominated 2013. The year closed with a total of four winning titles for the country: Miss World, Tourism International, Miss Supranational, Miss International, and also a top 5 placement in Miss Universe. As the only country to hold titles in the top 5 international beauty competitions, it is safe to say the Philippines excels at the sport of pageantry. The country dotes on its queens and ties pride for the Philippines to each crown. Online we witness explosions of excitement when Ms. Philippines wins, and outbursts of rage when Ms. Philippines leaves empty handed.

I'm no anomaly to the Philippines' beauty pageant phenomenon. I have acted as host, producer, and stagehand for pageants and even competed in two myself. You get sucked in by the glamour of it all: buying gowns and strutting the runway, showcasing talents and eloquence, hearing cheers for your name and being asked for your photograph. There is nothing quite like the audience of a beauty pageant, however. The crowd emulates insane sports fandom with big signs, competitive spirit, and loud roaring cheers.

From international stages to local functions abroad, why are Pilipinos drawn to beauty pageants? Let's take a look at some contributing factors, including nationalism, willing ignorance, and the desire to prove something of the Philippines.

And we'll show the world What a country girl can change And we'll show the whole wide world That we have a pretty face Pretty face, pretty face, pretty face have we 

Above are lyrics from "Pretty Face" sung by the Imelda Marcos character in the musical Here Lies Love. The former first lady immediately comes to mind when considering pageants, as she won beauty queen titles herself and earned nicknames like the "Rose of Tacloban" and "Muse of Manila." The song champions Imelda's infamous beautification program and vain pursuits. The 1976 Miss Universe competition, hosted by the Philippines, functioned as an opportunity to show off a developing nation deserving respect. Families in slums consequently faced eviction from their homes to hide poverty from the national image.

Even after the Marcos regime during the Philippines-hosted 1994 Miss Universe, police rounded up 270 street children to improve Manila's appearance. In Sarah Benet-Weiser's The Most Beautiful Girl in the World: Beauty Pageants and National Identity, Edgardo Angara, the Senate President at the time, voiced resistance:

"The Miss Universe contest is a misuse and abuse of our women that panders to the most ignoble instincts of our people."

Gel Santos-Relos, anchor of TFC's "Balitang America" (who actually hosted one of my pageants) echoed similar sentiments in Asian Journal while pondering pageant fervor:

"During these collective experiences, all of us are 'Filipinos,' regardless of our political leanings or social standing. We root for our kababayan candidates, athletes or favorite lead character in the teleseryes. We laugh, cry and cheer together. The unchanged 7.6 percent unemployment rate, rising gas prices, or another impending government shutdown do not seem to matter at all during that brief period."

Pageants are a way to pacify the people. The elaborate productions and beautiful women bearing the Philippines' name are welcome distractions to ongoing national crises. Santos-Relos also touches on one of three factors fueling pageant obsession: sosyalan. Rick Bonus in Locating Filipino Americans writes that socializing and celebrating pride during pageants are a way to bring communities together (especially abroad). The two other factors he notes are damay, or commiseration, and bayanihan, or communal unity.

Damay refers to the charity agenda most Fil-Am pageants have, since they tend to be fundraisers for an organization or cause with native roots. Damay is the motivating factor for purchasing tickets that reel in attendees. Bayanihan refers to the act of producing the pageant. It is usually a side project for community organizers that provides a way to collaborate with other Pilipinos.

Bonus takes a step further with pageants' allure by claiming they uplift Filipino American community. Often, pageants will include cultural segments wherein contestants sing tagalog songs or dance traditional dances in native dress. Participants, often second generation Filipino Americans, use pageants as an effort to relate to their roots. As a member of the Filipino American Community of Los Angeles (FACLA) stated in Bonus's book:

"[Pageants] are ways to announce to our community and the world that we are also achievers, even if many think that we are nobodies."

Clearly, to Pilipinos, a beauty pageant doesn't merely give one woman the title. The moment she gets her sash and crown, an entire nationality basks in the glitter of success–no matter how superficial. Photo Credit: The Inquirer, Manila Bulletin, Binibining Pilipinas, Khaleej Times, Filipiknow.net, and amywillerton.blogspot.com