An appeal to Filipinos from an Ilokano-American son on the eve of the presidential elections

I haven't said anything publicly about the elections in the Philippines. Though I feel deeply tied to the country and my family and friends there — especially in the Ilokos region — I'm a US-born citizen. I have to say, however, I've been quietly filling up with incredible sorrow and dread. I'm anti-Marcos. I've said this in my mom's city, just 20 minutes from Marcos' hometown of Batac. I was laughed at for saying such. And posting this might even alienate me from people I love and who mean the world to me. But I have to say this.

You cannot wish for a better life or a better nation by simply replacing one tyranny with another. Death squads? Torture? Extrajudicial violence? Disappearances? These acts are nothing but the failure of our resourcefulness as Filipinos. They are the murder of our very capacity for invention and imagination and gathering. For hundreds of years this is how we've made a community — despite the invasions by the Spanish, the Americans, the Japanese — by honoring our humanity, our mutual genius.

The history of the Philippines (and of the US for that matter) wasn't given to me by an institution. It wasn't taught to me through some formula or by some power structure. I had to seek it out on my own -- I continue to do so. I study it. I don't get paid to teach it or write about it. The Tagalog and Iokano that I speak (however broken) I learned not in classrooms, but from people and from songs. The history that I study (and its millions of stories that align and contradict) serves no allegiance or flag.

All of our colonizers portrayed us as savages. If we enter this new era of state-condoned violence, we make a case on behalf of the colonizers who set out to annihilate us in the first place. Even more tragically, we abdicate our greatest, most humane gifts as a people. When I think of the vision that my ancestors as recent as my own mother had for a family and our place in the world, it wasn’t murder and torture — even though she survived a war herself. She held on to love. When my mother gained some access, she made space for other people. Those of you who knew her, think of the bus loads that came to her funeral — so many colors and walks of life. She was an incredible leader, an Ilokana from Balacad, Laoag City.

A dictator like Duterte does not make it more possible for more Filipinos to lead like that, with independence and strength and graciousness — especially women like my mother. A dictator like Duterte and a sidekick like Marcos impress upon a culture a bullshit version of brutish and deadly selfishness. To me, that is not Filipino at all. It is not what I inherited.

My plan was to go back to the Philippines this summer for a short stretch to see friends and family, but if Duterte and/or Bong Bong are elected I won't go. I still believe in a democratic process. But I think these two characters will quickly destroy the very process that will have given them their titles.

I say this to my family and friends in the Philippines, especially those in Ilokos. I say it with great affection and gratitude and humility. Don't surrender our history. There is a more tender, more vibrant wish inside of you. I've seen it. I’ve been its beneficiary time and time again. I hope you find the strength to invoke that tenderness and grace right now.

Willie Perdomo, Finalist for National Book Critics Circle Award

Willie is a friend. He’s also a teacher, though we’re right around the same age. He’s from New York. I’m from Jersey. Different. Real different. In a lot of ways. But it means so much to me that a Puerto Rican writing about a conga player has made it as finalist to the NBCC Award. Because of friendship, yes. I want my friends to shine. But his poems made space for mine. Still, for a lot of white (and maybe even for some non-white) critics and publishers and reading series, seeing somebody brown or black lock in a spot at a major award like the NBCC isn’t a big deal. But even though there are more POC writing, there’s still a lot of isolation. There is still a ton of self-doubt. There is the simultaneous work of writing your books AND being an advocate for your books where there is little to no advocacy. And then, if you’re someone like Willie, there’s the work of mentoring peers and students and young writers – something he’s been dedicated to for a long time. Me and Willie are very different – as people and poets. But there persists a shared memory—Puerto Rico and the Philippines—and a shared set of images, vocabulary, linguistic musics, and strategies embedded deep in what we do. And those things correspond. The old drums still talk to one another. They still translate. They can still move a crowd. 

http://www.washingtonpost.com/entertainment/books/the-best-in-poetry-national-book-critics-circle-award-finalists/2015/03/10/6b81f06a-c2b9-11e4-ad5c-3b8ce89f1b89_story.html