"I feel that I am a citizen of the American dream and that the revolutionary struggle of which I am a part is a struggle against the American nightmare."
- Eldredge Cleaver
"The world is moving so fast these days that the man who says it
can't be done is generally interrupted by someone doing it."
the SOCIETY page covers politcial, social, and cultural issues including the Fil/ Fil Am communities, hip hop, politics, economics, capitalism, elitism, etc. Keep an open mind.
Many American lives were lost in Bataan. Among them were the fighting Filipino soliders who volunteered their lives for a nation that did not even accept them.
Today, thousands of Filipino veterans live with broken promises... promises broken by the U.S. government.
brown skinned female
(this is the spark
of the spotlight.
I should be studying,
but I got your faces in my mind.
I read about the plight
of the woman, the brown skinned person, the less blessed,
and I think of your strength.)
how can I silly fellow like me,
actually adorn you, properly?
how can a simple minded man,
reciprocate the strength in your hand,
I want to dedicate a word or two,
the beautiful brown female: you.
come out form that shade, baby girl,
don't be afraid of that sun.
stop trying to be that abercromie and fitch b**ch,
and be the brown blessed goddess,
that you are.
wear your tank top and sandals,
so the sun rays can be the vandals,
and paint a their piece of sin,
and let your nature permeate through your skin,
from within.
I don't want to watch you like eye candy,
some piece of a$$ that I can keep around handy,
I want your cerebelious essence,
to truly bless my cheap existence,
lemme hear your words, cuz your tongue miss,
ain't just worth that sloppy kiss, it's cranial bliss.
the cure to my ignorance, so educate,
and through you we I will elevate.
sun blessed female,
you don't need to be pale,
to be beautiful.
you don't need to look like those poster girls
in express,
for me to confess
that you are natural born dopeness.
close the gap in your being,
cuz old navy ain't what I need to be seeing,
cuz I don't want to see you on their shelves,
or their televison commercials,
you don't need to wrap yourself up in espirit,
or adidas or nike,
style oozes through you so freely...
don't feel the need for the supplemental,
you're nature proves them inconsequential.
brown skinned female,
how can I adorn you, being the man who I am?
with words or love or glances or hugs,
brown skinned female,
how do I dedicate
admiration and elevation,
through what I create?
(you're in my thoughts,
through each page that I read,
of social stratification,
the establishment's masturbation,
getting off on themselves and their world,
cuz in the levels they create,
you, being brown and being female,
leaves you on the bottom,
but I look up to you.
don't ever believe you belong,
where they place you.
I don't.
brown skinned female,
I believe in you.)
- rebel4ce, 3/19/2000
Act I: For Our Veterans
[fade in]
[beat]
[spotlight]
[chaos]
[spotlight]
[gimme a beat]
[beat]
[silence]
[fade out]
- Rebel4ce, July 29, 1999
You can improve your life,
but first,
you must sign your soul away.
[I’m not sure, but to me,
that sounds contradictory.]
- What kind of wack policy is that?
Watch out.
The devil works in mysterious ways.
Who would’ve thought,
he worked for the government?
He’s a capitalist
It’s the exploitation of resources,
and after all,
labor has been the most
abused resource ever.
- Yeah keep nodding your heads,
cuz we all know
slavery didn’t end in the civil war.
They asked you to fight
(as if you wouldn’t defend your own home.)
It was a big deal
(but it shouldn’t have been a surprise.)
So you fought,
(like your blood had been doing for 350 years,)
to free your country
(even thought the boss really “owned” it.)
And as you amazed them with your valiance
(as if we couldn’t have beaten the Spanish on our own)
And all this was done on a premise
(oh, I mean PROMISE)
that you could be treated with respect,
(maybe there was something wrong in the translastion,)
and be given your citizenship that was rightfully yours
(weren’t we a part of this nation?)
Yet as you were dubbed,
the little brown brothers,
(even though “Big Brother” was anti-American)
you have suffered,
from promises unkept,
(I guess honor is anti-American, too.)
In Bataan,
thousands of Filipino souls
persihed along side,
the bodies of their American
brothers who died.
While in Washington D.C.
they will honor the white souls,
and punish the brown ones,
with their little white lies.
And today you still hurt,
in your back and in your heart,
for a flag you helped defend,
is raised by people who won’t see you.
So it must not be true:
we bleed in different colors.
Revenge on Miss Johnson
I step up to the cashier,
to endulge my hunger in the grease
and cholesterol of
a Carl’s Jr combo meal.
Miss Johnson silently says,
“Welcometo Carl’s Jr, how can I help you?”
In my broken English and my
pointer finger of my right hand:
“You want a number one?” slightly
me: a nod and a smile
“What drink would you like?”
“Pip-see” I reply
“We dont’ haev Pepsi, but
we have coke. Do you want coke?”
I smile and I sink
into silent wonder.
“COKE! COKE! No Pepsi,
Ooown-leee coooke!”
In utter perfection and a pounce:
“I ain’t deaf mutha fucka,
GIVE ME A SPRITE!”
- Rebel4ce, Winter 1999
Ain't no Bahay Kubo on Fifth Street
Imagine this, if you can
A Bahay Kubo on Fifth Street.
Rockefeller center endorsed with flags
while down the street, a hot dog vender
and a strugglin artist
tickle the fancy of international feet
to cleanse their laundry bag.
Two dollars for a subway token,
let’s go down to the dock.
Watch miss liberty welcome in
the new waves of dreams to be broken.
They taking our jobs,
They stealing our money,
but I ain’t ever seen you
bent over pickin grapes.
Shut up.
1898 to 1998, ain’t nothin new.
Read the fine print, if you can understand.
There ain’t no Bahay Kubo on Fifth Avenue.
Flatter me for a second, and picture this,
A Bahay Kubo chillin on Lombard.
Imprisonment glorified,
look down at Alcatraz
when you get off the cable car,
There’s more sharks out of water, don’t cry.
Welcome them under that Golden Gate,
cuz all that’s left inland
are bleakened visions,
and 2hundred 9 versions of hate.
You didn’t earn your spot.
You don’t belong here.
But what you don’t know:
I didn’t fill in that dot.
Shut up.
It’s 1998: NO, it ain’t ever too late to know.
Lying in heap on crooked and unstable ground.
Maybe the I Hotel, but not a Bahay Kubo.
- Spring 1998
To Mother, To Child, To World
To look towards my future, and see nothing
To hear her voice content of happiness,
Only my love and strength stands between wealth,
But wealth seizes me thinking for my child.
- Spring 1998
The soul of the prisoner...
...enriches the earth,
for if it were not for his
trife,
would we know what
heaven feels like?
To serve as the filth,
aS THEY ARE OFTEN
labelled,
to serve the sorrow,
which rest do ignore,
in order for rest
to maintain self, mind,
and soul, and yet never
give the graditude
to the forgotten soul
for enriching their lives...
...the soul of the prisoner
burns with fury,
with lack of satisfaction,
for that job is taken
by the rest, and for which
their soul is not found
in what they are happy in,
but rather is the feces
and the sweat,
of the soul of the
prisoner.
- Summer 1997
Of what...
Of what am I made?
Hilfigir clothes do not make me,
No, they do not.
Nautica jackets, Ck Jeans, Nike swooshes...
... do they make me?
No, they do not.
Highlights in my hair, a fade on my head,
an expression on my face telling the world
that i'm not a man to be messed with...
do they make me?
No, they do not.
Do hip hop and baggy jeans make me who I am?
No, they do not.
Does an Accord that's fixed up
with an exhaust and racing stickers make me?
No, it does not.
How about if I wear shirts that say
Filipino Strength, that display the flag
of the Philippines, that tell everybody
and they momma that I'm proud to be Filipino,
when all the while knowing that I do not know
a single thing about my culture,
does that make me?
No, it does not.
I may like nice clothes, the fast cars, and
the untouchable look,
but is that what makes a true Filipino?
I'm notmade of an image created by others
dictating my life and my culture,
It's knowledge that makes me, and not this look.
I'm made of Jose Rizal, Diego Silang,
Corazon Aquino, and Lapu Lapu,
but not of Tommy Hilfigir, Ralph Lauren,
Michael Jordan, and Wu-Tang Clan.
My style does not make me,
but rather, my style is made of me.
The struggles of the past which fought
for our freedom and recognition,
have been lost in the struggle
to look like the other guy on the
other side of Great America.
But I'm lost in the image that say
is Filipino.
I shall not allow this image to engulf me.
I do not trade my knowledge and insight,
for a set of brand names.
I could wear my clothes, and
sport my style, and still
sport my brain and intellect as well.
I can balance the trends
with the knowledge of myself and my
heritage.
I am still made of inner beauty,
an educated mind, and vibrant desire
to aquire more knowledge,
And not of the inage which people have
created.
Strip me off all my clothes,
and I will not be naked.
Strip me off my my style and
you'll see what I'm made of.
Winter 1997
Beautiful Pinay
Part I
On Frasier,
they poked fun,
for some ratings,
and perpetuated
the unfair images
deemed upon you.
They refer to you as objects,
as HOs, some kind of
gentle servant
eager to share promiscuous
liaisons with their
tattered; weak, worthless bodies
and detrimental minds.
Tell me, what do you think
you are worth?
Easy women? No.
Cheaply bought
bodies with no souls? No.
Do not believe
the hate the concede,
maintain your pride
with each tear that you bleed.
Don’t extinguish the spirits
that nourished our seed.
In America,
they poke fun.
Don’t believe them.
Part II
A heartbeat,
that’s all it takes
to realize that you are
the mothers of our earth,
the essence of my
intellectual birth,
the true appreciation of
all you’re worth.
The strength of my blood,
the meat of my flesh,
the gentle tear in my eye,
I couldn’t be here
without you, beautiful pinay.
A cough excuse me.
Maybe I’m sick.
Deteriorating temple,
but you’re the herb to my dome,
the smoke in my pipe,
the root of my essence,
the dawning of my life.
Living,
gratitude for my place,
the preservation of my soul,
sparked with the flame,
radiance from your love, everlasting
you are my support.
The pause of my pulse,
the holding of my breath,
the blink of my eye,
You let me live through you, mama,
Thank you, beautiful pinay.
A yawn.
No, I won’t fall asleep.
You are the alarm clock,
knockin’ on my noggin’,
keepin me from slippin,
into a slumber,
so I won’t forget;
never let me dream of sunshine,
when the nightmare of our lives
steals my naivete, for reality.
The synapse of the brain,
the arm of the name,
the logic of my eye.
You gave me my legs
my sister, beautiful pinay.
A heartbeat,
you are no longer a queen
in this split second.
Your body damaged
because one has ravaged
the delicate ego, of some silly sucka.
You’re turned into toys,
commodities with ploys,
for old sexually deprived, 45 year old boys,
Blind without appreciation,
they would never live up,
unlike you, they are nothing of value.
They laugh at your strife,
I know it stings like a knife,
slashing at your hopes,
don’t believe them.
They don’t understand
the delicate nature of your strength,
our strength, our essence.
The curve of your cheek,
the beating of your heart,
the honesty of your eye.
They will never realize,
how you are meaningful,
valued more than gold,
Pinays, you are beautiful.
Winter 1999
"No more free education, a form of segregation,
politics abolished affirmative activation"
February 9, 2000
PROP 21, Victimizing the Youth Even More
I can't handle bullshit no more. Well, when did I ever? But still, when I was listening to some inofrmation about Proposition 21, the Juvenile Crime Initiative, I was honestly getting emotional.
It is just too easy to blame kids for all of the problems of society. It is just too easy to institutionalize a generation of criminals. It is just to easy to lock souls into a jail cell and forget about them forever. It is just too easy to find those darker skinned kids. Everything, is just too easy... a lot easier than working at changing the trends.
In actuality, are trends severely different from just a few years ago. As I've studied Juvenile Delinquency in my classes, the only thing that has been consistent is that children have been running around aimlessly crazy since documentation has started. It is a psychological-biological tendency for juveniles to go astray. Of course we all don't, but some of us do. It's nature. The state of society nowadays is just so much more violent in general. Obviously, this will leak down to the most influential persons involved with the community.
I won't go into the details of the proposition, you can do that yourself. The fact of the matter is that children are being blamed for things and being punished for them in an incompassionate way. This is only the beginning. The haves will be even more privelaged that have nots.. cuz if you look like a have not, you're going to jail.
Can you imagine N'SYNC going to jail? Their asses wear FUBU, but would they ever be mistaken for gang affiliation? That's the fact of the matter. You do the math.
-Rebel4ce
August 16, 1999
Gentrification and the Filipino Community
Remember that scene in "Boyz N Da Hood" when Furious brought Tre and Ricky to Compton? A billboard read something to the effect of "Cash for Your Homes". This introduced the idea of gentrification, the buying of cheap property and rebuilding it to be more affluent, was introduced. Can't get a grasp of the idea? Maybe if you put into the Filipino American context, it may become clearer.
Everyone's heard of Chinatown before, but are you familiar with Manilatowns? If you have not, they are basically the same thing that Chinatowns are, but for Filipinos. These centralized populations helped give a safety net for Filipino migrants who were being discriminated against in a land far away and much different from their home.
Maybe a reason you haven't heard of Manilatowns is that they have been taken away. In San Francisco, the Manilatown was ten blocks strong of Filipino restaurants, night clubs, pool halls, Filipino culture, etc. Buy the late 1970s, all but one block of property had been bought out by larger companies.
Eventually, the International Hotel, the low income housing for many Filipino Manongs, became the final evidence of any Manilatown in San Francisco. Unfortunately, this hotel fell, after years of protest, in 1979. By 1983, nothing had been rebuilt in its place.
Many old Manongs who had once strived in those menial conditions suddenly became homeless, and communityless overnight. There was no compnesation from the new contractors or the San Francisco city government. In fact, the SFPD and the Sheriff helped put the first sledgehammers through the hotel's walls.
Now, our Manongs who fought in the war find themselves in a similar position. They have been spread apart because of the closing of their main hotel. They have lost their community of support, friends, culture, easy access to friendly commerce, and all the things you find in a small community.
This is gentrification.
What Furious was talking about related specifically to the experiences of African Americans in low income neighborhoods. I would never have thought that this same policy effected Filipinos. I was wrong.
This is not solely a racial issue though. On a more general side, gentrification is the continuing subordination of the poverty stricken minorities. They are displaced from their realities and forced into harsher nightmares.
Can this happen now? I'm not sure. Go to 4th Street and Mission in San Francisco. It's the Metreon. Tell me what you think.
July 27, 1999
JFK Jr. and the Media
Like I've said, I was legitimately saddened by the events that occurred concerning JFK Jr. and his wife and her sister. Sadly, as with all major news stories, his tragic death was once again turned into a ratings war.
I was watching NBC on that Sunday following the accident, and I was alarmed by what I saw. (Naively, I thought they would not sink so low as to emulate this type of behavior with respect to the family and the nature of the accident, but I was wrong. What the hell was wrong with me? Putting faith in mainstream media? Somebody, slap me!) They had a promo with the search-copters hovering over the water near martha's vineyard. And it said something to the effect of, "For up to date news on the JFK Tragedy, tune into NBC, CNBC, MSNBC" blah blah blah.
I expect this type of behavior from the big networks, but as I said, I naively hoped different. Maybe the advertisement was not that harsh of an idea, yet the use of the helicopter and the sensationalistic way they presented the promo were the things that bothered me.
If you've seen the movie, "The Chase" with Charlie Sheen and Kristy Swanson. It wasn't Oscar material, but I caught it's sarcastic mood towards the media. If you haven't watched it, you'll probably catch it on USA, TBS, TNT, or something. It's been synidcated on various channels.
Yet, in another Charlie Sheen movie, "Money Talks" with Chris Tucker, the sensationlistic nature of mainstream media is parodied again. I don't know. Maybe he's mad about all that exposure he got when he got caught with Heidi Fleiss' professional colleagues. =P
-Rebel4ce