Hot Mama

Image

All is fair in love and war.

Or it it?

In the blistering heat of a conflict, SOMEONE brought up my sex life. Uh, I mean my EX sex life, because boy have I been celibate for years. Anyone, oh, anyone who has known me for the past decade will know that I have always lacked child care support, I have lugged my daughter around with me to interviews, to coverage, while putting newspapers to bed…So anything in my life frivolous, juicy, delicious or hot enough to be worthy of gossip, has to have happened a really long, long time ago.

But according to someone, I’m a “moral threat” to family and society. Wow. This is not the first time I’ve been punished for having a sexuality. Makes me wonder why God created that little piece of nerves down there … was it meant to become like my appendix?

Image

ALL this hullabaloo over humping and similar matters brought to fore the hypocrisy of Philippine society when it comes to sexuality. All these uptight sexual mores — especially among the middle class — but in reality, heck, we’re 80+ million Pinoys and growing at a rate of 2+percent.

Somebody’s gotta be getting it every minute. You do the math. Pinoy’s concept of being a woman seems so outdated — almost like it stopped at 1898. It’s either you’re Ilaw ng Tahanan (The Light of the Home) — the ever-martyric mother who keeps the hearth, cries and suffers in silence, or Dragon Lady for women who get into power, or Tandang Sora, or Maria Clara … or a slut.

Image

The ideal Pinay is powerless and sexless. And always puts herself last.

Makes me think that the Spanish friars who first came were actually shocked and threatened by our tropical sexuality so they proceeded to vigorously wipe it out and make Pinoys ashamed of it. After all, those bulitas (penile implants) were so common in prehispanic Philippines, read the historian William Henry Scott. His source couldn’t be any more objective – dictionaries of Tagalog terms collected by the first Spanish priests as they tried to communicate with those they sought to evangelize.

You can be a Viva Hot Babe, or a Margarita Lebumfacil Romualdez, or a Mareng Winnie Monsod, or a Cory Aquino. But no no no, not all of the above. If you have brains, you’re sexless. If you have any sort of sexual passion in you, you’re Viva Hot Babe.

And where men are concerned, the Pinoy husband goes home to his “clean” wife who does the dishes, keeps the home, takes care of the kids, and goes to the beerhouse if he wants something any racier than what he gets at home. As my friends, college-educated, A-student, young Filipinas in their 20s, say — Why can’t the hubby just do that same things to the wife?!

And even where writers are concerned, Fiipina writers (in English) are so damned sanitized. Where’s the Filipina Erica Jong? Or playful Pinay Rimbaud? Or the female Dante full of gusto for life and all its offerings? Or the Filipino version of Shanghai Baby? Even Forbidden Fruit, the erotic book by women in the 1990s was a collection of careful offerings.

ImageTWAS this kind of society that has forced me into frigidity for the past years. At 26, I realized that I had something important to say; I had my own voice as a writer and an advocate, but at some point I realized I wouldn’t be listened to or taken seriously if I kept on as the free spirit that I was. So I just stopped being a sexual being. Cold turkey. Just like I quit smoking.

Now, 10 years later, I realize that this was tantamount to female circumcision.

I HAD this conversation of this sort once with my prettier and braver cousin, MMR, who has always been brave about being on the edge, doing in-your-face things that have made our clan frown or squirm. MRR, by the way, is also a mother and a Scrabble champion many times over. Image

“There is no tribal word for vixen,” she mused. Neither is there a word for salacious, wanton, bawdy, sensual.

Or, as my friend Christian notes, sex in the country was seen more as something that people HAD to do (propagate), rather than something that people would want to do.

I also found out once from my uncle that the punishment for the erring tribal woman — banishment from the tribe –which, in early days was almost the same as death.

Enough of this now. Just click on the links and make your own conclusions. And for my dear friend who dragged out the sexual skeletons from the closet, these images are dedicated to you.Image Here’s wishing you the best humping for the rest of your life! Image

http://www.nytimes.com/slideshow/2008/01/20/magazine/20080120_CIRCUMCISION_SLIDESHOW_index.html http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Germaine_Greer

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Simone_de_Beauvoir

http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2002/08/18/IN237263.DTL

The Happiest, Funniest People in the World or How to Dance in a Club by Ashleyslips

Just a short break from all those serious, goodness.how.cerebral.can.you.get!? pieces. 

Here’s a post about a really hot Filipina — the hilarious Petra Mahalimuyak (Fragrant Petra)– whose really hot, hyperbolized Filipina accent and super hot Filipino humor make her sooo endearing.

Frankly, when I see my fellow Filipinas, I often have this defiant, wicked, un-feminist thought cross my mind: That–power issues and poverty aside–one of the reasons why the Philippines is the choice source of mail-order brides is because, well, we Filipinas are so sexy and pretty and fun to be around, after all. We’re the world’s topnotch trophy wives! Ha!

I mean, how often do you see get to see an ugly Filipina, anyway? Come on, be honest. It’s kinda rare, ano? Filipinas are among the world’s most delectable women, I say.

And where else can you get a pretty woman who will “lovingly clean your toenails with a toothbrush?” – That’s what YES editor-in-chief Jo-ann Q. Maglipon said in one of her 1980s articles (published in the book Primed) on Filipina mail order brides, then just an emerging problem.

Before you accuse her of “objectifying” women, note that before Maglipon became the entertainment editor that she is today (and consequently, one of the country’s highest-paid editors), she was an underground activist who fought against the Marcos dictatorship and wrote articles on slain doctor-to-the-barrioDr. Bobby de la Paz.

So her toothbrush-for-toenails comment was truly just an accurate portrayal of life as it really is—complex and difficult, astonishing and ugly, joyful and awful, comic and tragic, trivial and sublime—sometimes all at the same time—and always multifaceted, resisting the black-and-white labels the religious and the righteous would like to confine it in.

As I write this, there are hundreds of thousands of Filipina maids deployed  all over the world. Many of them will be beaten, raped. Some will be killed. Most of them suffer milder forms of abuse, but abuse nonetheless. But life does not stop dead because these terrible things happen. And the spirit of the archetypical Filipina lives on, resilient, and as lighthearted and bubbly and hopeful as ever.

More on Ashleyslips here:

Youtube channel:

http://www.youtube.com/user/ashleyslips

Facebook fan page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Petra-Mahalimuyak-Ashley-Rivera/142498585829166

Another Facebook fan page:

https://www.facebook.com/pages/Ashleyslips/157908574272534?sk=wall

Great Living Filipino Thinkers, In Their Own Words 2: Time Travel On the Cheap

So you think the word ‘Filipina’ means maid? Well, think again. For all of you who reached this blog looking for  bargain Filipinas –whether Filipina maids or hot Filipina bodies at bargain basement prices — well, this is for you! You should also know that Filipinas/Filipinos are also among the world’s most efficient people — on the energy from eating really small pieces of fish and a cup of rice, we can spew out great thoughts! Ha!

Speaking of fish, here’s this personal piece, the next installment of a series that, taken together, make up what I like to call Great Living Filipino Thinkers, In Their Own Words.

Today’s piece is from Leandro Romero, who lectures on Geography at the University of Hawaii at Manoa. His own personal journey to get there is the quintessential tale of the Filipino diaspora– poignant, bittersweet and riveting. And in his case, written in installments, like this one:

The Oblation is a concrete statue by Filipino artist Guillermo E. Tolentino which serves as the iconic symbol of the University of the Philippines. It depicts a man facing upward with arms outstretched, symbolizing selfless offering of oneself to his country.

Time Travel on the Cheap

Tuesday night I traveled back in time to 1989 or thereabouts.

The place: Balara behind UP Diliman, near the Narra Residence Hall, then UP’s most liberal dorm for men (and coincidentally, the most dilapidated and the cheapest).

The time: between midnight and three a.m.

Activity: eating ginisang sardinas at the all-night counter frequented by jitney and cab drivers and other vampires prowling the city in those unholy hours.

It is a college night like most nights I had back then: interminable, humid and expectant. Like you are waiting for something important to happen, some epiphany to strike you, some Big Truth to slap you in the face with its simplicity and elegance.

Meanwhile, the night is surprisingly busy in this corner of the university. Cabbies are just going off duty; still others are just about to take over. There is the stink of vehicle exhaust and cigarette smoke and rotting vegetables and the delicious aroma of street food. Some of the carinderia women have begun to prepare the ingredients for next day’s lunches. Kids are selling cigarettes, balut, sampaguita flower leis.

On such nights, you have finished carousing with your friends in one of those infrequent binges where you indulge in your favorite fermented drink and hope other baser instincts follow suit. Or, you have been obliged to stay and babysit some textbooks and notes, write term papers or solve sample problems, and you just need a quick pick-me-up. Or, you just made a connection with some other lonely collegiate soul and you just want to savor the strangeness of the Other, chew on the purity and innocence of it, before morning comes and shines on it the ridiculous light of day.

I assume that this night could have been any of the three, and alternate between options. Obviously, I am sober enough to bring myself this far on public transportation with no major damage to life, limb or property, so it’s all good. Whatever awaits me back at the dorm—math or physics or engineering
texts—they would wait patiently. There is no hurry, and I am where I need to be at this moment.

Meanwhile, the smell of fragrant frying garlic tempts my nostrils and my stomach growls a greeting in return. The chopped onions and tomatoes follow shortly, and soon I am witness to tomatoes melting in  the pan, sizzling and bubbling until you are certain that they have aggregately achieved Tomato Nirvana—that is, being one with the pan, the oil, the onions,  the garlic and the Universe.

The hot sardines make their grand entrance and are allowed a brief honeymoon with the fulfilled tomatoes. Meanwhile, the flame is switched off, and a raw egg, quiet and content until now, jumps in and joins the fun. The bored cook deftly mixes it in with the other ingredients and in a while, serves it in front of
me, hot, with fried rice.

As soon as the sardines cross my lips, I forget that Physics is my Achilles heel, that women (even those in college) are creatures with expectations and  demands that have to be dealt with in the morning, or that in a few short hours, it would be time to join the elaborate waltzes and tangos of university life once again. The combination touches off several centers of taste on my tongue and palate, and my brain registers an explosion of flavor.

I prolong each mouthful into a slow, sticky sojourn into my own personal paradise. Minutes later it seems,  but really more than a dozen years hence, I look up  from my plate and find myself alone in a house in  Sparks, Nevada, with no girls or physics texts waiting  for me in the morning.

Yesterday, I tried it again with some soto ayam  (Indonesian spicy chicken-and-vegetable soup) and I was brought back to Jakarta in 1990 (I think). But that is another story for another day.

Hello World! –Super Hot Filipina Maid from the Nation of Nannies

Hay naku. Instead of griping over how Filipinas are today known as the world’s maids, japayukis and mail-order brides, or how Filipinas lack pride and self-respect, and all that, what about celebrating our traits, for a change?

I’ve been to many parts of this country and one thing I can tell you about the Pinay in any of these parts: she is so funny.

Just look at our politics, at what goes on at the “august halls” of Congress – it’s an eternal carnival, a circus, a carousel—turning ’round and ’round and yet everything really stays the same. (hopefully not). Watch this:

(In 2007, the daughter of then President Gloria Macapagal-Arroyo turned the tables on her accuser and claims that whistleblower Joey de Venecia, son of the sacked House Speaker, brain may have been damaged by marijuana use.)

http://www.gmanews.tv/evideo/11904/luli-arroyo-lashes-out-vs-joey-de-venecia

Bwahahahaha. What drug use? Pinoys use SUGAR, not marijuana. Same effect, larger doses needed.

Yeah sugar. It really must be all that sugar: One tablespoon added to the milo energy drink, two heaping spoons full into the cup of coffee. Or sprinkled on top of bread ala maruya, or with coconut to top off sticky sweet rice cakes. Panutsa on taho. Or sugar in your meat: marinated to make sweet ham, tocino. Hell, there’s even sugar in your spaghetti, like nowhere else in the world.

Who needs marijuana when there’s sugar?

That, and the bananas are enough to keep us up, up and about.

So what if we end up cleaning other people’s toilet bowls, or teaching children other than ours so that our incomes could support the 10 other families back home?

Is that something to be ashamed of? Or is that heroic?

Baseco, Tondo slums on a placid night photographed by Geo Olaya

Try living in a place like that, and if you can still laugh – everyday and heartily too – well kudos to you!

And what of all those children being raised by Pinoy nannies? Well, they may learn to speak English with a distinctly Ilonggo accent, but won’t they also imbibe that light, bubbly, ever-hopeful attitude towards life, that resilience in the face of tremendous difficulties–?

Pinay maids should demand for higher pay because of that specific skill set, ha! We take humor for granted, but is really so hard pala to come by. Check out my German friends, who look like this:

Street art photographed by Pie Crew

Yes, we are the funniest people on earth, believe me.

Dig this:

Secondhand bedsheets for sale in an open Philippine market.

And this is even better:

Beleaguered ex-President as RealDoll?

Had enough? Here’s something I got from relatives abroad:

Top 10 Reasons Why There Couldn’t Be a Filipino-American US President

  • 10.  The White House is not big enough for in-laws and extended relatives.
  • 9. There are not enough parking spaces at the White House for 2 Honda Civics, 2 Toyota Land Cruisers, 3 Toyota Corollas, a Mercedes Benz, a BMW , and an MPV (My Pinoy Van).
  • 8. Dignitaries generally are intimidated by eating with their fingers at State dinners.
  • 7. There are too many dining rooms in the White House – where will they put the picture of the Last Supper?
  • 6. The White House walls are not big enough to hold that giant wooden spoon and fork.
  • 5. Secret Service staff won’t respond to “psst… psst” or ‘hoy….hoy. ..hoy…’
  • 4. Secret Service staff will not be comfortable driving the presidential car with a Holy Rosary hanging on the rear view mirror, or the statue of the Santo Nino on the dashboard.
  • 3. No budget allocation to purchase a Karaoke music-machine for every room in the White House.
  • 2. State dinners do not allow “Take Home”

AND THE NUMBER 1 REASON WHY THERE COULDN’T BE A FILIPINO-AMERICAN U.S. PRESIDENT IS…

1. Air Force One does not allow overweight Balikbayan boxes!

The ubiquitous Balikbayan box!

Now here’s the advertisement portion:

“Hello, Garci?” Jokebook

Filipinos like to think that they can laugh at anything, and however much they put themselves down, they believe that their sense of humor is not only a defining national trait but also their saving grace. This book is a collection of contemporary political humor and is made up largely of jokes forwarded from one cellphone to another.
Also included in the collection is a sampling of political humor from websites and blogs. Price: 190 Philippine pesos.

ORDER NOW at:

http://www.pcij.org/blog/2005/11/22/hello-garci-jokebook

Seriously, we are becoming a cradle of noble nannies.

And for those fatally attracted to life’s darker side, read this:

Ghosts of Manila by James Hamilton-Paterson, reclusive genius whose nipa hut I have yet to find.

More about the book:
http://www.independent.co.uk/arts-entertainment/books/book-review–gouging-out-hells-entrails-ghosts-of-manila–james-hamiltonpaterson-jonathan-cape-pounds-1499-1420229.html

More on the author, really, a Philippine rare bird:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/books/2004/jun/05/featuresreviews.guardianreview8