The Wily Filipino

Ben Santos Gets Cranky.

Most Bay Area Filipinos would know exactly what Bienvenido Santos is crankily writing about here; I'd have to stress, however, that the newspaper in question has revamped itself and has, in the last few years, produced some of the most arresting, in-depth pieces of journalism on the Filipino American community. (Except for some of the stray issues from the late '60s, and whatever else missing from the Berkeley archives, I think I've read almost every issue cover-to-cover, and still do.) The passages below, are from Santos' wonderfully-titled 1987 novel What The Hell For You Left Your Heart In San Francisco, which would perfectly with Ver's entry on great titles. (I still need to think of a snappy nickname for you, Ver).

What sort of material would they want the magazine to contain? Photos of beauty queens from the islands now in residence in this country, well groomed and heavily rouged and definitely past their prime if they had had any prime at all? Good looking tots of obvious Philippine descent in their Sunday best having a birthday party? A seemingly endless listing of names in bold type throwing parties of all sorts, anniversaries and bienvenidas not to mention despedidas? So and so has just arrived from the Philippines or leaving for the islands on a visit. This dull-faced youngster has just passed an exam where a thousand others have made it?

And more:

A cursory glance at a typical issue of two of the most widely circulated Philippine publications in this country showed practically everything my magazine should not contain.

Start with pictures: photos across an eight-column page of convention delegates..., Philippine-American community organization officers, their right hands raised in the act of being sworn into office, usually by a diminutive consul or ambassador of the Philippine embassy or consulate or someone pinch-hitting for them; men and women receiving plaques, trophies, ribbons, cups... usually surrounded by smiling relatives and well wishers.... Weddings where even the bridegroom smiles, lifting the bride's veil for a not so chaste kiss, or the bride shovelling a piece of cake into the groom's wide open mouth. A christening party where everybody's name is printed, occupation, regional ancestry, from left to right.

Yes, they're somewhat mean potshots, but it's a sentiment that was shared by many of my Daly City interviewees as well. It's also, unfortunately, accurate content analysis. So hey, I'll quote myself here: "Despite its ambitions to a kind of transnationalism, the [name of newspaper omitted for now] also functions not unlike a small community newspaper, albeit one distributed nationwide. Nowhere else has the social life of the middle-class first-generation Filipino immigrant been so prominently on display."

Okay, where was I? I bring all this up because Santos was a keen and generous observer of Filipino and Filipino American life, and something shifts in tone, it seems, after martial law. (I'm skimming through his 1992 memoir, Memory's Fictions -- which has now moved to the top of my must-read pile -- and his San Francisco novel (which he started writing in 1973!) was the product of what he called "humiliating experiences.")

But I bring it up also because the Poeta and I just saw "The Santos Trilogy," which is still playing for another two nights at Bindlestiff (check 'em out!). We've fallen into a fun rut, the Poeta and I: drinks (beer for me, single malt scotch for her), a quick bite to eat, a movie / play, drinks again, then a long-distance phone call somewhere in there. Oh, and she has a secret, and it's not exactly a laughin matter. =)

Posted by the wily filipino at August 19, 2005 11:07 AM