Teary-eyed at rallies in Rizal Park; EDSA with star protesters

Deja vu.

These twin rallies in Metro Manila commemorating the 53rd anniversary of the declaration of Martial Law.

The “Trillion Peso March” at the People Power Monument in EDSA and the “Bahain ang Luneta: Aksyon Laban sa Korapsyon” at Rizal Park constituted a collective outpouring of anger and disgust of the Filipinos against erring public officials who are supposed to serve and protect but oppress and abuse them instead.

The two distinct events were images reliving the street marches against a myriad of national issues like tuition fee and oil price hikes, militarization, foreign debt, US imperialism, colonialism, bureaucrat capitalism etc. in past decades.

And the perennial case of them all being cause celebre—corruption in high and low places.

Let me be personal about my reactions to rallies as a form of legitimate acts to right a wrong.

Mark Lester, Bruce Lee

I was introduced to protest actions in the University Belt during my freshmen years when social unrest was at its ebb that seeped through the portals of the UST Faculty of Arts and Letters.

Of all colleges in the pontifical university, Artlets was mostly the seat of student activism in the campus, and to some extent, academic freedom.

My English prof at the time, Cristina Pantoja-HIdalgo (who would later be a member of the Manunuri ng Pelikulang Pilipino) would wonder why we were still stay inside the classrooms when everyone that afternoon (when Mark Lester’s movie “Melody” and a Bruce Lee martial arts film—I don’t remember any more if it was “The Big Boss” or “Fist of Fury” or “Enter the Dragon” were making killings at the tills) was on the streets already raising voices on social ills and clamoring for change.

“Class, why are you still here? Go out and join the rallies,” she urged charmingly, her statuesque demeanor leaning on us students.

Yes, she joined us to march in Plaza Miranda.

Isang Gabi ng Makabayang Awit at Tula

I was a reluctant activist attending teach-ins in some ordinary apartments in Dapitan and watching culturally sensitive entertainment shows like “Isang Gabi ng Makabayang Awit at Tula (One Night of Patriotic Songs and Poetry)” at UP Diliman that featured, among other “woke” stars at the time, Rita Gomez and Jay Ilagan, now both gone.

I was promdi (from the province) and already an emergent socially conscious, if not yet committed, since I came from a peasant family that was frowned about at random times in the town.

Meanwhile, my gaiety—although at that time I was still a closet queen quietly rebelling against social norms of gender bias—was also a factor where my dissent was probably coming from.

I was already in the thick of things in movie reporting when I came out from the cupboard.

National Artist for Film Lino Brocka

Now National Artist for Film Lino Brocka with theater artist Behn Cervantes were the progressive figures in mass movements in the 80s.

I would always appreciate their bravery and commitment to truth, freedom and justice.

This time, though, I chose to be in the periphery of demonstrations under the dreadful climate of Martial Law.

I would attend symposiums on relevant topics like economic development under the dictatorship or feminism and society etc. usually being held at St. Joseph’s College or the University of the Philippines.

Only when I was running around with veteran showbiz fixture (and still missing TV host, entertainment journalist, star builder and talent manager) Boy C. de Guia that I was able to pivot around Brocka being the latter’s business manager.

When Lino and Behn were nabbed, jailed and charged by the state with rebellion and sedition when they joined a jeepney strike in Quezon City, I cringed with, not necessarily of fear but, remorse of my complacency.

The least that I could do was keep Kuya (a term of endearment to an older man by affinity or an elder brother by blood) Boy company in his capacity to look for money to bail Brocka out.

We, the Special People organized by de Guia, composed of now GMA Network entertainment broadcast journalist Lhar Santiago, broadsheet movie columnist Danny T. Vibas, showbiz news hen Pilar Mateo and the youngest member of the group Ronald Mendoza, were at “Mother Hen” Boy’s beck and call in making sure the director was safely released from prison.   

Meanwhile, I was in Olongapo City interviewing bar girls for the fanzine Bulaklak Magazine at the time Ninoy Aquino was shot dead at the tarmac. The atmosphere was eerie and restless yet contained.

Throng of Filipinos went out to the streets and paid their last respects to the fallen opposition leader who fought the abuses of martial rule and to bring back freedom and democracy.

After the Ninoy Aquino assassination I began to be more active in protest movements, however in my own small way, like joining Cory Aquino’s call on civil disobedience staged at Luneta against Marcos, Sr. alleged election manipulation and fraud.