Underneath it all

Clive Barker believes that all of us are books of blood. He said, “Wherever we’re opened, we’re red.” Makes complete sense to me, well beyond the horror genre implications of it (This was the epigraph of his seminal short story collection called–what else? Books of Blood). I’d been meaning to use this line of his for some time now. Didn’t think it would happen on such a happy occasion.

But why am I–self-proclaimed master of melancholia, happy? 

Well, for somebody likes me who gets sad (and mad?) easily, the smallest kind gesture can also make me happy. Yes, gestures, especially the kind that flatters. So there, now you know that with me, flattery (at least the kind that I could believe) goes a long way.

A fellow blogger has tagged me, okay? This is the first time someone did in all the time that I’d been blogging. Hence the happiness and the sense of being flattered. The tag was supposedly called ‘7 things you don’t know about me’ and I was a bit taken aback reading the fears that my dear fellow blogger expressed about writing personal things. I wondered, why she felt that way.

If you’ve been reading my blog, you’d know that I am fairly open about myself. I mean, I write about almost everything that’s happening to me as I live here in Cambodia: my relationship with Kimrun, my (our) sex life, friends, non-friends, my career, things and people I like and detest, and so on. I probably wondered because in my opinion, a blog is supposed to be one’s journal that is being written in a form that is shared with other people, anonymous or not.

Back in 2001, I started writing a series of short essays that I uploaded weekly into the e-group of the NGO I was working for in Manila. I titled my posts ‘The (sometimes) Happy Homosexual’ or TSHH. Apart from self-expression, I intended this to be a form of information dissemination means to the other members of the e-group: young and community-based gay boys who could probably learn a thing or two from either my experiences or the bits of information (on HIV/AIDS, sexuality, etc) that I include in these articles. My friend K expressed apprehension at this undertaking, concerned about privacy. Having gone through a long period of repression, I had decided that I would live my life openly, with minimal secrets. I wrote TSHH for 17 weeks until circumstances led to my abandoning that undertaking.

I discovered blogging 2 years ago and found myself in familiar territories quite easily. After trying Friendster and blogspot, I finally settled here in i.ph, which allowed the integration of my poetry blog.

Now, my first task is to tell you, my dear reader, 7 things you don’t know about me. Are there still things that you don’t know about me? I believe so. I believe that as we age, our identities become richer and more complex that our own definitions change over time. There are a thousand other definitions underneath all our smiles, glances, and gestures. We are like lakes whose depths are always glimpsed, but never fully seen.

So here they are, in no particular order. Some of you may have known some of these things about me; some might be surprised upon reading some of these things. Please indulge me, dear reader.

1. I’m a bit cross-eyed. It is not so obvious now as when I was a boy but it’s true, my eyes are not symmetrical. I am what you might call ‘banlag‘, which is a few clicks shy of being ‘duling‘ (cross-eyed). When I was a boy, my mother taught me to tilt my head a little sideways (to the left) to disguise this assymetry and to highlight the deep dimple on my right cheek. This is something I still do to this day albeit unconsciously, to tell the truth.

2. Clowns and mascots terrify me. I don’t know whether this was caused by a repressed childhood memory or by watching all those horror films but clowns and mascots really scare me. There is something sinister about the painted smile of the clown, along with the things that the garish, baggy costumes, the exaggerated shoes and gloved hands might conceal. Mascots, meanwhile, appear cheery and perky all the time but who knows what the person inside is thinking when people approach them happily?  Just writing about them sends shivers up my spine. Reading ‘It‘ by Stephen King at age 13 did not help to dispel this fear either.

3. I love Nora Aunor. Today she might not be the famous and respected celebrity that she was many years ago but to me she is absolutely the greatest talent the Philippine entertainment industry has produced. Her fairy tale rise to stardom and success is now part of history, along with her social missteps and indiscretions. She has done much for the Philippines that many do not know of. She broke the strong hold of mestizos in the entertainment industry, paved the way for the local recording industry to flourish, and helped put Filipino films in the international scene. A multi-hyphenate (singer-actress-producer-businesswoman) long before the term was invented, she was an influential force in Philippine showbiz. I grew up in a household where Sunday evenings were reserved for watching her musical variety show on channel 9. My great-grandmother adored her. To what degree, I do not know. She collected magazines (Liwayway, Kislap, Superstar) that had her on the cover, that I knew. I was never a member of any of her fan clubs but I liked watching her films and listening to her songs. About 10 years ago her old recording company re-released her old albums in CD format and now I am a proud owner of a number of them.

4. I stopped drinking because my body tolerates alcohol too well. Strange statement? It’s true. I can drink like a fish without puking, and without any hang-over in the morning after. I started drinking when I was 19, with my college friends, then with people from work. I learned to drink hard drinks (gin & rhum) before beer. Red Horse is a favorite brand, along with Super Submarine, a beverage concocted in the old Penguin Bar in Malate, consisting of 500ml of Red Horse and a jigger of lambanog. I used to be able to down at least 6 bottles of Red Horse per drinking session. Mixing beer and hard drinks does not bother me, too. But I got to a point when I began to wonder what the point of getting drunk a lot is. So I stopped; or minimized my drinking. Saved me an awful lot of money. These days, I am content with a few glasses of vodka tonic once in a while to make me feel mellow and give me a sound sleep. 

5. I have a foot and calf fetish (sort of). What can I say? I just like a guy with clean feet and toes. Strong ankles and calves also catch my eyes easily. Under the right circumstances, I am not above planting kisses on feet and sucking on a toe, once in a while. My earliest memory of this liking was when I was about 7 years old. During recess I liked to sit down on a bench and watch the older boys play basketball. I remember liking very much the way the tube ends of the mid-calf socks press on the skins. Nothing sexual in it, as far as I know, but it was a nice feeling.

6. I am an occasional drag queen. Growing up, I never tried on my mother’s clothes. My first experience with cross-dressing was in 1999 when I had to dress up because it was the office Christmas party. When I realized it was such a bother, I decided not to do it ever again. Fast forward to 2005. A group of friends here in Phnom Penh put up a drag show and I was there to provide back stage support and assistance. However, on the second show, a quirk in the program left no performer in the opening segment. In a pinch, I agreed to do it reluctantly and felt secretly happy when I saw how pretty I looked with hair and make-up on (hehehe!). I lip-synched to a remix of Madonna’s Erotica wearing the Korean national costume and I was a big hit! My last performance was in August 2006 (pictured); our show was called Oh, Shirley! where we performed the music of Dame Shirley Bassey.

7. I dream of fatherhood. Such a nice follow-up to the last point, do you agree? It’s true. I dream of having a child someday. I think I would make a wonderful father (and mother? Beowulf’s mother? hehehe!). Really. How often do I dream of it? Well, I dream of it enough for me to take note and share the fact with you. How it would become a reality I do not know. It could just be a dream and nothing but, you know? (By the way, the cute tot in the photo is my friend Me-Anne’s baby girl)

So there, the 7 things you don’t know (yet) about me. And now, my second task is to tag 7 other people to do what I have just done. Here goes, in no particular order again:

1. Joyce in C’est Moi

2. Daden in Dang

3. Glenn’s Liwaliw

4. May-May’s mai_piece_of_mind

5. Ging in one fine day i’ll fly away

6. Ryan’s My Blog

7. Wilma at The Mad Tea Party 

Enjoy, dear reader! 

Promises

Today is World AIDS day. This event is commemorated in countries around the world with ceremonies and activities to remind ourselves of the impact that HIV/AIDS has created in our generation’s lives. For this day, I am re-printing an article I wrote for the 3rd issue of In Plainspeak, a quarterly publication of the South & Southeast Asia Resource Centre on Sexuality based in India. This is essentially a book review. If you, dear reader, are familiar with the book(s) mentioned here, please indulge my ranting. If not, I suggest you look for the title(s) in your favorite bookstore to share my indignation.

This is not a happy read, don’t say I didn’t warn you.

RECIPE FOR CATASTROPHE

The first thirty or so pages of ‘The Politics of AIDS’ reads like a sequel to ‘And the Band Played On’ (St. Martin’s Press, New York, 1987), Randy Shilts’ lucid and compelling account of the American government’s reactions and responses in the first years of the AIDS epidemic. The story told by Shilts is as old as the AIDS epidemic itself, but it remains significant today because the impact of the actions of those involved early on are still being felt today. If anything, Peter Gill’s book can be considered a sequel in the truest sense of the word: dealing with the same issue (the government’s response and reaction to AIDS) but widening the scope (the world) and expounding on the previously presented problems (prejudice, religion, morality, economics, etc.).

The book asks why and how AIDS has managed to kill 25 million people around the world in 25 years, considering the preventable nature of HIV infection. The 40 million people infected with HIV did not have to be infected, the book posits, then calls individuals and institutions worldwide to account.

The Bush administration, allied with the Christian Right, has joined the Vatican in promoting abstinence and fidelity as a health strategy. Scientific findings were taken out of context and rehashed to fit this paradigm, ignoring evidence-informed research and studies. The President’s Emergency Fund for AIDS Relief (PEPFAR) under George W. Bush became a tool to impose morality in inappropriate areas like healthcare and education, changing the nature of foreign aid.

Many African leaders have deliberately ignored the crisis. Gender inequality proved to be a greater pandemic as African women were made more vulnerable to HIV by government policies and cultural practices that prevailed over accurate information about HIV and AIDS. Irresponsible public statements made by high level officials only clouded the public’s perception of HIV infection and AIDS. South Africa has even withheld life-saving drugs from its people, promoting un-proven treatments like garlic and allowing misconceptions on HIV and AIDS to persist instead. Britain has promoted concerns for AIDS in Africa, but has neglected its duty at home. However, compared to the Americans, the British response to AIDS was still better.

The book asserts that the main beneficiaries of the epidemic have been the big pharmaceutical companies of North America and Europe which manipulated the protection of their patents and profits at the expense of the poor. The efforts of Indian companies to break this stranglehold have so far been thwarted. This story shows the devastating results when economic considerations take precedence over public health and welfare. Vigilance on this area is paramount.

Some countries have been winning the battle against AIDS, but lessons learned from their experiences are being ignored. Thailand has reversed the trend on HIV infections by being bold and affront about addressing social taboos that contributed to its epidemic. However, condom use promotion contradicts the agenda of the Christian right and the Vatican. In Africa, clergymen have been forcibly retired from the church hierarchy for promoting the C in the ABC of HIV prevention. American public health officials were intimidated against speaking out on the benefits of condom.

Towards the end, the book points out that if AIDS was dealt with as a purely public health issue and not within a moralistic context, it wouldn’t have become the scourge that it is today. Because AIDS raised sexual and then moral issues, the judgment of politicians became clouded and undermined their ability to respond in the public’s interest. Gill writes, ‘What began as a common prejudice against gays in the 1980s has mutated into objections to other lifestyles and practices, providing public officials with more excuses for failing out to carry out their public health duties’.

I remember feeling dumbfounded after reading ‘And The Band Played On’ years ago. Like how one would feel if one has witnessed a vehicular accident. The question on my mind then was, ‘How could they have done that?’ America, the richest and most powerful nation in the world, failed to protect its own citizens from something mundane, in this case, a health problem. Then I got angry, becoming all the more determined to do my part to curb the epidemic in my own country. Now, after reading Gill’s book, I am still angry. Political climates have changed in many places worldwide, but the old prejudices remain. The people Gill wrote about are still around. Many of them are still in power, wielding their ignorance like a flaming sword over a hapless public.

Many things have happened in the last twenty-five years that AIDS has been with us, but it seems that the things we have learned are fewer.

I am more than angry. I am indignant.