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

Being Thankful: Witnessing typhoon relief operations during Thanksgiving

It was something that I was torn with for days after Yolanda: Should I reschedule my trip to Johannesburg, and instead, return to the Philippines, or stick with the original plans? Reason #2 of HowStuffWorks' "Ten Worst Things to Donate After a Disaster" echoed deeply. I reminded myself that I didn't have any skills, and that it would be wiser to use the money I'd spend on airfare and give it to a non-profit (with skilled workers and volunteers already in place, who are much more familiar with the situation on the ground). My parents hail from the parts of Iloilo province that weren't greatly affected by Yolanda, so there was no substantial reason for me to check up on them. But then I received a message from my mother a week after the typhoon. My lola had passed away. At this point I had no choice. Mom needed me to be in Miag-ao for the funeral. And so I returned to the Philippines. While I was primarily there to attend the funeral, I did spend a couple days shadowing the Iloilo chapter of Gawad Kalinga. I was introduced to Merveen Ortega, the brother of a friend and fellow GK advocate. When we first met just a couple hours after I touched down, it turned out that GK Iloilo didn't have any relief operations planned for the weekend. So, I spent much of the day discussing long-term plans in the reconstruction effort, as well as touring around several GK villages and meeting kapitbahayan - the beneficiaries of the homes.

As we hopped from one site to another, I noticed Kuya Merveen's cell phone was constantly ringing. There were requests for relief packs from five barangays in the far-flung municipalities that took the brunt of the damage in the province. Following up the request was a coincidental call from his companions from the neighboring island at GK Negros Occidental; they had assembled relief packs that were available for distribution. I was finally going to witness where donations go and get a glimpse of an another overlooked part of the Visayas affected by the typhoon.

We departed from the staging area at the GK Peco village, trekked to urban Iloilo City, then on to municipalities whose names I've heard my parents discuss with other Fil-Ams hailing from the same province - names like Leganes, Barotac Nuevo, Anilao, Banate, and Barotac Viejo. One thing that was unique about witnessing the aftermath of the typhoon in Iloilo province is that you saw it gradually in the scenery. Slowly you'd notice that the trees that provided the lush greenery were starting to taper with tree branches holding less leaves, then you'd noticed forests of trees who were bare of anything green, and finally, seeing those trees uprooted, or toppled over homes.

Much of the highway had since been cleared for traffic, but the scars were quite visible. Remnants of power and telephone lines were hanging. There were houses without roofs. There were children along the road, with their arms out in hope of receiving relief from passersby. But one thing that struck me even more was a van that we passed. A family had pulled over and were conducting their own relief operations by distributing goods to residents of a barangay by the highway.

After passing soldiers from the Canadian Force's Disaster Action Response Team (DART)  and tackling downed telephone lines in dirt roads, we arrived at our first stop: barangay Odiongan of the municipality of San Dionisio. The barangay itself is in the east coast of the province, and was one of the first in Panay island to be struck by Yolanda. Once we pulled up to the barangay square, I knew that witnessing the damage from storm surge would be hard to avoid. Wreckage, clothing, and trash littered the coastline.

The distribution of goods was done in cooperation with the barangay captains, who were each armed with a checklist to ensure that all families received a relief pack. Children surrounded the square, and several tried to make their way to me and my camera. Some would approach me and giggle whenever they heard my American English, which is something I was accustomed to due to past trips. Admittedly, laughter was comforting to hear this time around. One thing that was sincerely inspiring was to see how many of the residents were in relatively good spirits. I saw this even more as we proceeded to other barangays.

Once the distribution in Odiongan was complete, we crossed into the neighboring Batad where we met with councilman Ernesto Balida, who guided us as we distributed relief goods at four barangays within the municipality. We passed homes with white camping tents alongside them, probably distributed by the Canadian Forces or one of several NGOs. The locations of barangays that requested relief packs seemed relatively distant from the highway, and required a fair amount of time traversing through more dirt roads and downed lines. One of them was Alapasco, a remote barangay deep within the mountains that sat next to a reservoir of the same name.

Alapasco was the epitome of a village that could easily be forgotten in the initial rush of relief distribution. Getting there required us to leave our supply truck, and transfer packs earmarked for that barangay into a smaller truck that was otherwise used as an open-air ambulance to transport patients from these distant quarters of Batad. The trees that covered the mountains leading to and surrounding Alapasco were no more, leaving behind a barren terrain of fallen limbs and bare branches.

It was in Alapasco that a quote from Viktor Frankl, a psychiatrist and Holocaust survivor, seemed to resonate with me:

"We who lived in the concentration camps can remember the men who walked through the huts comforting others, giving away their last piece of bread. They may have been few in number, but they offer sufficient proof that everything can be taken from a man but one thing: the last of the human freedoms — to choose one’s attitude in any given set of circumstances, to choose one’s own way."

Throughout the trip, the cynic in me was prepared to see the worst of humanity, but instead I saw the best of it. We often hear of the likes of Pilipino hospitality, but I never knew of its resilience before this trip. The residents of the barangays that we helped seemed to have a justification to succumb to despair, and seek self-loathing; instead, they greeted us with the sort of friendliness that puzzled even US Marines when they participated in relief operations for Typhoon Ketsana (Ondoy) a few years ago.

I made it back in Miag-ao in time for my lola's funeral. With little time to mourn and reminisce, I walked into the room where her casket rested and greeted Lola with the same backpack that I lugged around during the relief operations, just hours prior. But after weeks of running to fundraisers across Oahu, catching up with classes, and then finding out of my lola's passing, it finally hit me: I had just spent Thanksgiving weekend in the Philippines.

My family hasn't celebrated this particular holiday since my brother's passing, and I've since used the extended weekend to travel to some far-off land. If anything, I certainly am thankful for the ability to travel as much as I can. But hearing of the things that we should be thankful for while saying grace before digging into that Thanksgiving dinner—things like the warm, fresh food we have, the roof over our heads, our good health—never echoed so much until I tagged along with GK Iloilo during this relief operation.

Witnessing situations such as how organized and patient the residents of affected the barangays were, while they waited until we distributed relief goods, really placed things in perspective for me. Meanwhile, images of Black Friday shoppers flooding stores back home played in the back of my mind. My experiences witnessing this relief operation really did bring being thankful to a whole different level, a level that I wouldn't have imagined from the comforts of indulging in a turkey dinner.

Be Proud of Your Pilipino Skin

On September 4, 2013, seven-year-old Tiana Parker was sent home in tears from the Deborah Brown Community School. The reason? Her dreadlocked hair. Claiming that hairstyles such as “dreadlocks, afros, [and] mohawks” detract from “a respectful and serious atmosphere,” this Oklahoma institution scolded Tiana, barring her from classes. Needless to say, the community was outraged. And they were not alone as the media rushed to the aid of this young girl. Prestigious news sources, bloggers, and TV personalities each defended Tiana’s dreads as naturally styled African American locks, instead of a “faddish,” attention-seeking gimmick, as the Deborah Brown Community School claims. Tiana is now enrolled in a different school which embraces her natural hairstyle. Her former elementary school has since changed its policies.

Reading this story ignited a lot of different feelings; anger, discomfort, but more than anything an eerie familiarity. I, personally, don’t know what it’s like to be punished for exhibiting a naturally Pilipino physical feature, but I do know that such mentalities exist among Pilipino communities; and for me, they inspire the same amount of outrage.

Whiter Skin is “In”

Pilipinos generally possess a distinct type of hair: thick and pin-straight. However, it is not our typically dark locks that cause dispute among other Pilipinos; rather, it is our naturally tan skin. Eliciting the help of skin whitening creams, bleaches, and even cosmetic surgeries, Pilipinos hunger for lighter skin. In an older time, light skin in the Philippines was a sign of a life exempt from outdoor labor, and thus, a symbol of wealth and luxury. Even today, the celebrities, talk show hosts, and news anchors that populate TFC and GMA are those with a lighter skin tone. And, from my experience, even when telanovelas feature darker-skinned Pilipinos, it is to emphasize the difference between one and the other, castigating the darker of the two.

My Color is Pilipino

This type of culture breeds a warped idea of self-worth, one in which the most valuable gem is the one that can shine the whitest, showing no appreciation for the land-laboring emeralds, the sweat-drenched rubies, or the sea-faring sapphires. This is a destructive culture and it is not one that Pilipino youth should be brought up learning. Yes, white-skinned Pilipinos are beautiful, but they are no more beautiful than those with naturally darker skin. Whether representative of badges of laborious ancestors, or emblematic of different regions, these deep browns and dark tans carry vibrant histories. These sun-kissed shades should not be diminished, but celebrated as hues that add to the rich palette of the Pilipino people.

Photo Credit: Asiafinest.com Forum

Luzviminda Camacho: Making Stride for Pilipinas

 “Woman must not accept; she must challenge. She must not be awed by that which has been built up around her; she must reverence that woman in her which struggles for expression.” - Margaret Sanger

On October 28, 2013, the Philippines made headlines as reports of their seventeenth peace-keeping mission to Haiti decorated both written and internet news publications. The Pilipino contingency is a part of a larger pacifist effort called the Multinational Interim Force. Conceptualized by United Nations in 2004, it was the reaction to the bloody confrontation that occurred between the Haitian government and insurgents that same year. They continue today as a means to maintain peace in Haiti, a country torn by violent anti-government revolts.

As a participant in this initiative, the Armed Forces of the Philippines provides perimeter surveillance, administrative and logistics service to UN diplomats. They ensure the safety of these figureheads as they move forward in their attempts to stabilize Haiti’s still transitional government and prevent any acts of violence that would only increase the amount of blood already spilled.

This ongoing campaign is praiseworthy without help, however, that is not the reason why it was plastered on newspapers and websites in bold print. The reason is Luzviminda Camacho. Camacho is this year's commander of the Philippines' peacekeepers. She is also a woman, the first woman the Philippines has ever sent on such a mission. This is an enormous stride for both Camacho and Pilipino women, and it is not the first she has made. In fact, she is quite familiar with the notoriety that surrounds a 'first woman leader'. She was the first female to command ships in the Pilipino Navy (four naval vessels over a period of three years). Assigned to traditionally male-occupied positions, Camacho is both carving out a larger space for women in the Pilipino military and proving that the intellectual skills of strategy and leadership do not elude women as much of society may think.

Gender Equality in the Philippines

Heavily influenced by Spanish colonialism, the Philippines is a society that, in its early years, centered itself a patriarchal ideal. Men were breadwinners and women homemakers. However, with the ascent of female President Corazon Aqunio, the Philippines saw major changes that allowed women to shatter the "glass ceiling" in the Philippines. Not only was a women assigned to the most influential seat of power in the nation, but Aquino released a revised the constitution so that it guaranteed Pilipinas impartiality in the eyes of the law and protection in the workplace. The following 30 years brought even more progress, enacting legislation that counteracted gender discrimination in political representation, reception of land, and entrance into military schools.  Women were also protected, by law, from sexual harassment, rape, and partners seeking mail-order-brides. As a result, the Philippines, today, boasts the title of the best performer of gender equality in the Asia-Pacific, ranking number six in on the list of most gender-equal nations.

As noteworthy as this accomplishment is, there are still instances, albeit reduced, of workplace exploitation, and violence against women. These instances are proof that there are still obstacles hindering complete gender equality; although the "glass wall" has been broken, shards of it remain. Luzviminda Camacho is, then, more than just the first Pilipino female to command a naval fleet and more than just the first Pilipina ambassador to Haiti. She is an example of women who refuse to let their brilliance be repressed. She is not a woman who will bashfully reject compliments, but rather eagerly accept the well-deserved rewards of her excellence.

As a naval captain, ready to confront the dangers of  protecting foreign diplomats, she has not limited herself to "making puddings and knitting stockings." She is as physically capable as any man. As a single mother, constantly leaving her son for foreign seas and countries, she does more than "[play] on the piano and [embroider] handbags." Her emotional and intellectual capacities are as far-reaching as that of her male counterparts. Although she may not know it, Camacho is an active warrior evening the playing field between the sexes, working to close the gap that has deceivingly defined men as society's "more privileged creatures."

[I]t is narrow-minded in their more privileged fellow-creatures to say that [women] ought to confine themselves to making puddings and knitting stockings, to playing on the piano and embroidering bags. It is thoughtless to condemn them, or laugh at them, if they seek to do more or learn more than custom has pronounced necessary for their sex.” ― Charlotte Brontë, Jane Eyre

Photo credit:

Emerging Leader: An Interview with Storyteller Kent Truog

Meet Kent Truog, a photojournalist currently on the ground in the Philippines. Kent believes in the power of visual storytelling, and has been working on his craft since 2008. His work focuses on telling the stories of individuals in Honduras, Indonesia, Cambodia, and Kenya, many of which are rarely seen in today's media. Kent has helped to shed spotlight on endangered dolphins in Thailand and Cambodia. He has even worked with social entrepreneur and impact speaker Mark Gonzales on suicide awareness and prevention. His most recent work has been covering the aftermath of natural disasters in the Philippines, including the earthquake that hit the Visayas, as well as Super Typhoon Yolanda (Haiyan). In this interview, Kent gives on the ground insight to the situation in Tacloban. He continues to update his social media networks on his experience there, weeks after the typhoon crashed into the PI. For regular updates, follow Kent on Tumblr and Twitter @kenttruog.

1. What brought you to the Philippines? How long have you been there?

I’ve been living in Southeast Asia off and on for about four years now. During a stint in Cambodia, I was lucky enough to meet a girl with a similar passion for international aid work, which has since taken us to India and now the Philippines. We’ve been in the Philippines since April 2013.

2. What do you do there?

I work as a freelance documentary filmmaker and photographer.

3. When did you reach Tacloban? Have you been to other areas hit by Super Typhoon Haiyan/Yolanda? What is it like?

I was in Davao on the island of Mindanao when the storm hit, having just returned from Bohol, where I was documenting the relief work from the recent earthquake that devastated the island. I was immediately summoned to Leyte, with a first response team of an international NGO, to survey the damage. With the Tacloban airport out of commission, we had to fly into Cebu, where we then took one of the few ferries in operation to Ormoc -- a town a little over 100km from Tacloban. We had no idea what to expect upon arrival, as Ormoc also received extensive damage, and due to some travel delays, we didn’t arrive until about 10pm at night. Except for a few candles burning, it felt like a quiet ghost town. You cold see dark shadows in the damage behind the pier. One of the team members walked into town and found us a hotel that still had open doors (albeit no running water or electricity), so we stayed there the night.

The next morning, we found a jeepney willing to take us to Tacloban. The military had already begun to clear the roads, but the normally two-and-a-half hour journey took closer to six. We arrived in Tacloban the third day after the storm hit, and the sights on the ground were hard to process. There was devastation everywhere. Few buildings were left standing.

4. Are there any particular events that you've encountered (since the typhoon, or even the earthquake) that have made you question your work or what you're doing there? Are there any events that have reminded you why what you do is so important?

Not at all. Although Typhoon Haiyan has been by far the hardest even I’ve covered, my experiences in Bohol, and with Typhoon Phailin prior to that in India, prepared me well for everything I've experienced here in the Philippines. I knew what I was getting myself into, but seeing loss of life is never easy. All I can do as a storyteller is to help the rest of the world see what the people of the Philippines are going through, and help build a bridge between the international community and the people of Samar, Leyte, and Cebu. The Filipino people are amazing and are handing this calamity with a strength that is really inspiring. Each day I visit the field, I  find more people and more communities, working hand in hand and helping each other rebuild. It’s inspiring.

5. Have you been able to identify the major need in areas hit by the typhoon, or even the country as a whole in general? What can Pilipinos who are currently not living in the Philippines do to help?

The devastation is so extensive it’s been really hard to mentally process at times. I just wish that aid could rain from the sky. There are a lot of good NGOs out there doing great work. Find one you trust and believe in. A little bit of money can go a long way here.

6. Based on your experiences thus far, do you have any advice for our Filipino leaders, who are still figuring out their passion/work in life?

For those living abroad, return home if you can. Get to know your roots. The Philippines is an amazing place with wonderful culture and great diversity. I’m grateful to be able to live here at the moment and tell stories throughout this magnificent island chain.

Photo credits: Kent Truog