Category Archive for: komentaryo

komentaryo

pacquiao, the pits

am i the only one who thinks this has gone too far? and just way low, the discourse on the Reproductive Health Bill.

it’s bad enough that we have to deal with congressmen like Amado Bagatsing who thinks prOscribe can easily be changed into prEscribe (medyo praning), like Roilo Golez who will twist previous DOH Secretary Esperanza Cabral’s words to her face about the risk factors of the pill (medyo sinungaling), like Pablo Garcia who thinks the correct response to the RH Bill is “do you believe in God?” (medyo fundamentalist), that we have to deal with every other religious anti-RH person thinking my rights as a woman immoral. but really.

congressman Manny Pacquiao, fresh from the millions he made from his last boxing match, is the pits. his mother Dionisia is scraping the bottom of that barrel.

and no, don’t even begin to deny that you are forgiving of Pacquiao, that this country in general, including the middle class and rich who would otherwise be more critical, are coddling him. Pacquiao can do no wrong ‘no? he can do no wrong, not when he’s a source of contemporary Pinoy pride: the best pound for pound boxer in the world. finally we can say there’s one of us who’s the best at something, without a doubt. finally.

oh but what is the price we pay? to think him faultless, to listen to him talk about fighting poverty and think: wow, what a wonderful speech! versus thinking: wow, how that contradicts the fact that he bought his mother a 1M peso bag. a one million peso Hermes bag that his mother asked for. that’s worse than Kris Aquino, or Willie Revillame, both of whom are undoubtedly rich and live decadently too, but at least they don’t talk about eradicating poverty, as they do helping the poor (two very different things). at least we see them both on free TV. Pacquiao we have to watch on pay per view, even if we’re Pinoy.

oh but we forgive Pacquiao everything, including his mother’s articulations. we forgive Pacquiao the politicians that appear around him, no matter that we don’t trust them. we forgive him, even as he is mouthing lines from the Bible in relation to something that is totally and absolutely extraneous to religiosity. he gets up on that podium in Quiapo Church, and no one no one says he was wrong to do it. he misquotes the Bible, and we don’t correct him, are careful to make fun of the grammatical error. and we don’t invoke this:

It can’t be very difficult for Pacquiao to financially support his brood of four; the champion fighter is worth an estimated $70 million. But 33% of people in the Philippines, a nation of nearly 92 million, live below the poverty line, earning less than $1.35 per day. (Brenhouse, Time Magazine, 19 May 2011)

those anti-RH congressmen are just as bad, putting Pacquiao up to be beaten to a pulp by congressman Edcel Lagman, the worst strategy as far as congressman Mong Palatino is concerned failing as Pacquiao did. the anti-RH congressmen are saying of course not! Pacquiao did the best he could! yes, of course you’ll say that, he’s on your side. congressman Sherwin Tugna says: “<…> dahil sikat si Congressman Manny, marami ang nakinig at marami ang nalinawan dahil sa kanyang mga tanong at dahil sa magiting at malinaw na paliwanag sa sagot naman ng pro-RH na si Congressman Edcel Lagman.”

sige na nga congressman. but we’re scraping the bottom of the barrel here, so there has to be media mileage on Dionisia, flared nostrils and fully made up, screaming on nationwide television, defending her son Manny against the big bad wolf that is senator Miriam Defensor-Santiago. just so it’s clear here, it was the anti-RH congressmen who made a puppet out of Pacquiao when they let him make a fool of himself so their cause could get media mileage. just so it’s clear, Jinkee admitted to using the pill in January 2011, Dionisia, not at all when they were newlyweds. and just so it’s clear, this is not just Pacquiao following the word of the Lord, this is him, as congressman joining a discussion on a bill that about women’s rights. and if all he can talk about is the Lord, then really, he deserves the criticism the rest of the congressmen like him are getting.

except that Pacquiao barely gets criticized, and in fact is saved from it mostly by the idea that so many others in congress are worse than him, so many of them are corrupt, so many others are downright evil. Pacquiao meanwhile will build a hospital in Sarangani, has brought commerce to Gen San, has helped the poor more than many others. he’s a nice guy, they say, nicer than most. plus, he’s a world class boxer! oh what more could we ask for?

ah, the question really is: why do we not ask for more? especially since Pacquiao himself demanded for more when he deemed himself worthy of a congressional position? especially since as congressman, Pacquiao necessarily also speaks as national icon, as national pride. Pacquiao-the-boxer is not different from Pacquiao-the-congressman from Pacquiao-the-puppet.

you take pride in one, you are forced to be silent on another. you take pride in all of that, defend Pacquiao to the hilt, or fall silent, then the joke is on us. pride mo ang lolo mong panot.

komentaryo

notes of a TV junkie: the cultural elite & pop TV

which is to ask: how good does it feel, really, now that Willing Willie has been suspended for a month, and now that the MTRCB has tasked itself to do the strangest of things: that is, watch every darn episode there is for possible “di kaaya-ayang” moments, for immediate sanctioning or approval of the next day’s show. it’s good ol’ Pinoy pag-initan natin ang show. the question of course is: wala bang ibang pangangailangan ang kultura MTRCB?

if you were reading our cultural elite throughout this whole save-JanJan-hate-Willie campaign, it’s actually pretty clear that there is much to be done: oh the horrid local culture we have, the elite say. except that what they’re pointing at is local popular and mass culture, so defined because this elite talk about “acceptable culture” and “decency” and “better humor” and “good television” which already says that they know better, that there’s their high art and there’s low art, that there’s nothing wrong at all with this kind of division and how it reeks of the painful truth of elitism. minsan kailangan nating umamin, sa totoo lang.

because what’s wrong here is that in the process of talking about what ails culture in this country, the elite has not looked at itself in the mirror: they call on each other to change things, but fail to see that there’s something wrong with their own cultural productions. in the process they’ve drawn a pretty thick — and old line — between themselves and the rest of us who watch and are the market of popular TV: Oh how crass this television culture! Que horror! (more…)

komentaryo

popularizing the way

very few things survive the stretch of Bonifacio High Street, save for tents selling real estate. after all there’s “public art” here, ones that don’t change and are mostly closely guarded: a two dimensional mickey mouse here, an unconventional slide there, an inverted fountain further down. in this context, art of any form, installations of any other kind, would just seem out of place.

but the way of the cross as reconsidered and reconfigured by Church Simplified succeeds in this space, both as art installations, and as a popularization of what is a ritual that has ceased to be simple, with Catholicism that’s everything and difficult to deal with given our own human rights and the Church’s insistence on moral authority. but i digress.

on the path of the conventional Visita Iglesia with the Nanay, we were both only surprised. she had done it countless times as a Catholic school girl, and i had done it with Lola Nena and Lolo Ding one holyweek, when I was the easiest teenage girl to drag around the city. this was the first time mother (her) and daughter (me) were out there, combing the nearby churches, and finding that for most of them the Stations of the Cross within the Church were covered up: the more important ritual was the adoration of the altar of repose, and the stations were relegated to a makeshift set-up in the courtyard or parking lot. it made for a less solemn time at prayer and meditation in front of each station, it made for a feeling that we were being discouraged to go through this Maundy Thursday ritual.

meanwhile at BoniHighStreet, and via Church Simplified, the stations of the cross are freed from the structures and new rituals of the conventional church, and surprisingly can work in the midst of commercial establishments — high end ones at that. don’t worry, the irony isn’t lost on me, though this time it does seem overrated.

no, this isn’t quite a modern take on the way or stations of the cross, as it is a popularization of it. Walkway: Reflections on the Stations of the Cross begins with step one: put it elsewhere other than a church. then moves on to step two: talk about it in words that are easy to understand, in a way that’s also about an amount of reflection, in a manner that is a conversation between equals, paraphrasing — quite well, I might add — from original texts that tell the story of Jesus Christ’s journey to death and resurrection. what is more laudable is the fact of tone: each of the 12 stations are spoken of comfortably, forcing a sense of familiarity even on the non-religious (i.e., ME).

listen in on how judgmental YOU sound

that is to say that the re-imagination that this way of the cross allows the spectator is one that is almost beyond religion and religiosity, and is about the gift of a story, one that’s told so well, it becomes believable and real, no matter if you are believer or not. this is a wonderful gift really, one that happens in stark contrast to the way in which the conventional Church talks about the death and suffering of Christ as always frighteningly about our sins, period.

the more powerful stations I thought were ones that forced spectator to deal with some quiet, if not reflection. station #5 which is the scourging, is re-titled “the whip” and talks about the process of scourging and the weapon that’s used to inflict pain on its victim. the rendering of the whip, hanging lengthwise against bloodied black walls, actually works not just as reminder, but as art installation: there is restraint here, a sense of someone taking control and seeing the value of what in the end is a quiet violence, more powerful than any of the installations on this stretch of BoniHighStreet.

the scourging as the whip as art installation

the quiet of charity was in that lone statue of a kid on a platform for station #4 entitled “the verdict”, a retelling of Jesus being judged by Pilate. the statue was made clearly into a street kid given the huge tattered shirt he was wearing, which was also ultimately about the same kind of control and restraint that’s in “the whip” and in art installation, both.

charity for one. irony in action.

the power of restraint in creating just the right amount of drama meanwhile is in station #6 re-titled “the curse” from the conventional Jesus is crowned with thorns station. here, a crown is put on a pedestal of sorts, surrounded by thorns and encased in glass. the light that shines from within the casing, would be too much given the gold of the crown, were it not a well chosen deep red light, one that doesn’t shine through the glass but stays within it. this provides just the right amount of drama, highlighting the difference of this station from the rest of the installations and stations that are mostly in black.

equally wonderful about Church Simplified’s ways of the cross is its requirement of involvement: you read about “the two simons” and are told to think of someone who has helped you in a time of dire need, and to pick other people’s prayers from a bowl and say the prayer for them, as you leave your own wishes in the same bowl. you are Simon of Cyrene as the next person will be for you.

let someone else say your prayer

then there are the acts of carrying a cross in station #8, or of nailing one’s sins as represented by black cloth from station #6 onto station #9 “the crucifixion”, or of lifting an old black telephone and listening to people talking about and prejudging somebody else. there are the acts of walking through darkness inside a tent to signify the “seeming” darkness of Good Friday in station #12, or of writing down the name of a person you wish to thank by saying a little prayer for her in station #13 “the cloth”, about the story of Easter.

what these stations required of me as spectator were surprisingly easy to get into, on the one hand as a meditation, on the other as a way of dealing with this story of one man whose story is also that of a society. one that’s so familiar, one that’s exactly where we’re at still, the one we continue to (re-)create.

what is striking though in the process of walking through Church Simplified’s stations of the cross is its ability at reconfiguring this story into one that’s current and relevant, complete with really cool Christian rock music (that i’m now hunting down), and activities that don’t fall into the trap of making things fun-without-a-point. instead what’s here is a story told and reconfigured into hope, and possibility, and light. plenty of it. and in the face of a conventional Catholic Church that’s in the throes of losing plenty of its believers, in the midst of arguing with our own Catholic selves about the contradictions between this Church and our own real lives, this popularization is exactly what local Catholicism needs. less of the preaching and instilling fear, more of the talking to us all as equals, yes? there is hope for Catholic religiosity in this country yet.

give it a whirl.

more photos up at posterous, all taken on Holy Wednesday, April 20 2011.

komentaryo

why it won’t matter to Willie

because I can already hear Willie Revillame’s defense, against all the anger directed at him given this video of the little boy contestant who danced, and did so ala macho dancer on Willing Willie. I can hear him invoking the fact that he did not teach the boy to dance that way, that even he didn’t expect that kind of dancing, which is obvious in that viral video, too. I can hear him saying it’s the parents’ responsibility, that the parents themselves must have taught the boy this dance. I can hear him saying: here, in Willing Willie, every Filipino can be himself, and the boy’s dance was part of that.

worse, I can hear Willie invoking some “us versus them” rhetoric for greater effect: ‘yang mga ‘yan, hindi kase ‘yan mahirap, kaya hinuhusgahan nila ang mahirap, kaya hinuhusgahan nila ang show na para sa mahirap.

then for good measure he will respond to anti-Willie and Willing Willie sentiments: inaapi ninyo ang show na tunay na nagpapasaya sa bawat Pilipino. on cue his eyes will tear up.

I know this because I’ve watched Willie, both in Wowowee (ABS-CBN2) and Willing Willie (TV5), though the latter has been because of Shalani Soledad, which is of course beside the point. my point being: bakit ngayon lang tayo na-offend?

and when I say ngayon lang, I mean this concerted effort to stand up for little boy Jan-Jan and the perceived abuse he suffered on the show. when I point out this fact of public outcry happening only now, I mean what of those countless — countless! — times that these Willie Revillame shows have offended, are offensive, which is really pretty much most of the time.

bakit ngayon lang tayo na-offend? is a question that is not about forgiving Revillame or his show. it’s a question that’s about figuring out how these current conditions with regards Jan-Jan are different from the five years of Wowowee and the less than a year’s existence of Willing Willie. or maybe it isn’t different at all, we just got this one on a youtube video. in which case what does this really say about us?

well, for one thing, it’s obvious that many of those who speak of the Jan-Jan issue now haven’t really been watching Willie or his shows, maybe not a lot of local TV at all. because if you did watch these shows, you’d know that Willie’s responses, the ones I mentioned and the ones I cannot even imagine, have been used before. you’d know that this is rhetoric that’s borne of two things: (1) those of us from the educated and/or middle and/or upper classes calling him crass and bastos and offensive, and (2) Willie turning things around and making it seem like he’s the one being abused here, that we are the ones pointing a finger because we are discriminating against him and his show, and those who watch it.

if you were watching local TV at all before all this, you’d know that this kind of reaction only fuels rhetoric that also always means more money in Willie’s pocket, and about as much for whatever network he works for. it’s rhetoric that has always worked to his advantage, and has just meant making that divide bigger between us who sit and tweet and write FB notes and statuses, and the masses who go and line up for Willie’s shows.

this is class divide at its most stark and painful. yet, only Willie will invoke it to be true, and in the process he’ll run all the way to the bank with it.

as would any company (network or otherwise) he’s worked for. and here it needs to be said that if we’d actually and truly like to pinpoint the culprit in this cultural degradation that has brought about this little boy dancing ala macho dancer on TV, that would be ABSCBN’s Wowowee and the kind of imagination it justified as entertainment. if we were to go to the root of this problem, it would be that contemporary television culture isn’t so much about money for the capitalists, as it actually is about an audience that is willing to die (and already have) for some TV time that’s equal to earning some money.

if we were going to the root of why Willie and his shows even exist, we would need to deal with the fact that there’s a need for it. there’s a need that’s being met by the one show that gives out money like it’s a can of Birch Tree circa Kuya Germs in GMA Supershow.

and no, to say that Willing Willie appeals to the lowest common denominator doesn’t help either. in fact it makes things worse, proving Willie’s accusation correct that we are all just (mis)judging him and his show on the level of class. speaking of these shows’ values (entertainment and otherwise) would also fail at seeing the conditions that allow for it to exist, with or without Willie there. it’s also to discriminate against this audience who are there because life is that hard, and because in truth these people see it as a way to some money, a way that they work hard for, falling in line as they do for hours or days, traveling as they might from across the country. it’s no joke to be part of a Willie show audience. even less of a joke when someone leaves the show with P10,000 pesos.

which is what Jan-Jan did. after he danced the first time, with tears in his eyes, Willie gave him P10,000 pesos. then Jan-Jan’s tears disappeared. then every time that song played he just began dancing, like a wind-up doll. then Willie makes like he discovered a talent in Jan-Jan and made him dance some more. surely to give the little boy even more money after.

and this is what we took offense at, yes? but which part of it exactly? the fact that this little boy was like a wind-up doll? the fact that he was dancing like a macho dancer? the fact that he was crying as he danced? the fact that he was given money?

these are important questions because as I watched that video, while I knew what was offensive about it, I also knew that this is standard fare for a Willie show. this is not to say it happens often that a little boy will do some macho dancing. but it does happen that a contestant will be brought to tears because they forgot their cheer, or weren’t sure what to say, or were just too darn overwhelmed to be in front of the audience and cameras. it happens that little girls — oh a great number of them! — dance sexily skimpily clad in clothes ala sexbomb girls. and you know that ispageti dance is no wholesome dance move right?

and so I do wonder why there hasn’t been public outcry about these instances. I do wonder what kind of double standard we are practicing here as we scream: child abuse! in light of Willing Willie, and every other show like it. I wonder how much of this is us reacting to things we don’t know. or is this all a matter of (our) taste?

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrkO70vQQdY

this is Bugoy Drilon Carino (salamat yol jamendang sa correction) reality show contestant and guest who danced for Willie on Wowowee. we didn’t care that he danced hiphop did we? had he cried while doing so would we have cared?

the fact is we don’t quite know why Jan-Jan was crying. what is obvious though is that he wasn’t crying when he was called onstage, nor was he crying when Willie was interviewing him. the camera was on his aunt (who had brought him to the show) for a bit as she cried because she finally got to hug Willie. the camera was back on Jan-Jan to give a message to his aunt and father (who was there, too), and that’s when it seemed like he was close to tears. Willie tells him it’s ok, bakit ka naiiyak? he asks kindly, even giving the kid a hug. those tears would fall as Jan-Jan was dancing an obviously rehearsed performance.

after, he is given P10,000 pesos by Willie, Jan-Jan pockets the money excitedly and stays onstage to play the game. the music plays again, and he promptly dances on cue. he loses the game and is close to tears again. the game unfolds with the other contestant, and after a commercial break, Jan-Jan is back on stage again doing the same dance, this time with no tears.

it’s clear here why this is offensive, even clearer once you see the video, but what it reminds me is how late the hero we all are in taking offense only now. i do wonder if this is just because we’ve got Jan-Jan on video? or if this this is us acting on our hatred of Willie to begin with, being reminded of the fact that he is too crass, too bastos, for our TV viewing pleasures? maybe this is us barking up the wrong tree really, thinking Jan-Jan as a cause to rally around, Willie as the person to rally against, forgetting that in fact there is this:

the conditions of nation are such that parents of impoverished families will knowingly teach their own kids what they imagine is unique and different, at least enough to warrant extra cash from gameshows like Willie’s (and here Jan-Jan’s parents were successful weren’t they). the conditions are such that when this little kid danced, his father and aunt cheered him on; and when Willie poked fun at the whole act, the little boy had stopped crying because he already had 10k tucked in his pocket. the conditions are such that an absurd situation like this one can exist on local primetime TV. these conditions are exactly what must change, this bigger context is what we must be putting our energies into changing, really.

because these conditions are what allow for the crassness of Willie, the production’s lack of sense, TV5’s MVP raking it in the way a capitalist should. at the same time, to that little boy that is Jan-Jan, and to every other little girl that’s been on a game show gyrating in an outfit she shouldn’t be in to begin with, it’s about the money that’s possible to win in these spaces, it’s about the transaction that might unfold given their talent, the more unique and different the better.

it’s a transaction that we are not privy to, we cannot even imagine as relevant or necessary in our lives, not one we would think to join ever. yet it’s one that has fed mouths forgotten by government, has fueled movement from across the nation to Manila, unlike any trip we imagine taking. it’s a transaction that parents who are responsible for their children consciously and willfully enter. a transaction we might not agree with, but really, why do we even think we are the point?

we are farthest from the point. our anger towards Willie and Willing Willie will barely scratch the surface of possibility of both being cancelled out of local TV. in fact at this point it’s almost something they can shrug off, and something to use against us. because here we are shooting from the hip, angry and disgusted, in the process revealing our social class. we forget that Willie will know to see this for what it is: the class divide at work, one that we refuse to deal with, one we will deny, and ultimately one we will not put out P10,000 pesos for. even if we could.

komentaryo

Revisiting EDSA ’86, failing the revolution

The failure happens first on the level of being disallowed to take photos in the Ayala Museum, something that’s even stranger when the exhibit is purportedly about people power, and yet the people aren’t allowed to take photos anywhere in that museum, a reminder really of why I’ve stopped going there.

It took an exhibit like Revolution Revisited (Ayala Museum, Makati City now up at on a mall and campus tour) by photographer Kim Komenich to make me step foot in this museum again; it is also an exhibit that I can barely be happy about. Komenich’s curatorial note attached to the exhibit is a failure in itself, a re-writing of history from an obviously removed perspective, one that has stuck to a narrative of EDSA 1986 that has since become highly questionable, if not proven false.

Two of the more glaring things: many factors informed the people’s march to the streets on February 22 to 25 1986. There was the cheating in the snap elections, the only one that Komenich acknowledges, but also: the civil disobedience campaign that had Cory and the people going up against the oligarchies and capitalists, the military defection of Juan Ponce Enrile and Fidel Ramos even when that was filled with too many silences still, and the truth that since Ninoy’s funeral march the people had gained an amount of courage that just kept on growing, through the Cory campaign, then the snap elections and poll watching, fearlessly ignoring the possibility of being picked up by the ever-watchful Marcos military.

Another glaring historical mistake was the assertion that February 25 1986 was the birth of what Komenich calls “the people power phenomenon.” What of tanks being stopped on February 23? What of people welcoming defiant soldiers who refused to disperse the crowds on February 24? What of artists and celebrities coming out to the streets and providing entertainment through the wee hours of February 23 to February 25?

I cringe at the idea that the 25th was the one day that gave birth to people power. I dare argue that its birth happened when people showed literally the kind of power they hold collectively, not when the dictator and his family began packing their things to leave Malacañang. I daresay that people power was born when people joined Cory’s civil disobedience campaign and literally refused to buy San Miguel and Nestle products, emptied Rustan’s of its shoppers, closed down banks, deemed the economy unstable. These were the same people who thought to, who knew to, stop tanks at EDSA. They proved people power then.

Komenich’s reading of EDSA ‘86 to be about cheating in the snap elections and the Marcos dictatorship ultimately just allowed it to revolve around the Cory-Marcos dichotomy, which wasn’t all that those four days was about. This reading of EDSA ’86 actually set this exhibit up for failure.

Which is not to say that it didn’t try to speak of the people, too; except that the way it did only begged the question: but in what light? The exhibit begins with photos of the every man pre-EDSA ‘86: a farmer with a carabao in the fields, a woman carrying a new born baby surrounded by even more of her children, a malnourished boy looking out onto the world. Then Revolution Revisited goes back and forth, from a photo of Cory Aquino’s proclamation rally and the aforementioned every Pinoy in 1986, to 1983 onwards with photos of Lean Alejandro, Evelio Javier, Ninoy Aquino and the snap elections. What was more surprising to me than the fact that our local photographers have their own versions of these photos, is the fact that of the four days of EDSA, what this exhibit had was only three days — three days! There were no photos of Day 3, February 24 1986, unless my turning around and going back to look for even just one photo was a failure in curation.

Day Three of course was a crucial time of defections and false alarms, people jumping and celebrating, government stations being taken over, as well as the threat of Marines in Camp Aguinaldo poised to shoot at Crame. Its absence in a revisiting of EDSA ’86 just seemed like a huge dark gaping hole.

Meanwhile, the stretch of colored photos at the end of this black and white exhibit  highlighted even more the distance of the power players from the people who made EDSA happen. That these personalities were allowed to speak about EDSA seems like the most redundant of things: we know what presidential daughter, now sister, Pinky Aquino-Abelleda, as well as Fidel Ramos, Juan Ponce Enrile and the rich of this country, would say about EDSA ‘86: they’ve been saying it the past 25 years.

And then there is this: these personalities are already the ones who contribute to a mainstream narrative that speaks of EDSA ’86 on the superficial level of unity and the general notion of change. They are also part of the oligarchies and powers that Cory had set out to fight through the civil disobedience campaign. Pray tell why would I want a businessman and capitalist to talk to me about EDSA ’86?

Ah, but Revolution Revisited also lets the faces of the every Pinoy in the beginning of the exhibit to speak at this point. Their photos are taken within the same contexts as before, reminding us that the farmer is still a farmer, the impoverished mother is still such, except that it’s been 25 years. Yes, nothing has changed for them, and this they also say in so many words. The malnourished boy has since died, and his family is still as poor as they were in ’86.

Thus this exhibit ends with the heaviest of feelings about EDSA ’86, highlighting the idea that it has led to nothing, that it was to a certain extent pointless. To have ended with the impoverished and the constancy of their conditions is to forget that EDSA ‘86 was a promise of possibility. That the poor are still such, that the conditions have stayed the same, is the fault of those big personalities who were in power yet have failed to truly affect change. It is not the failure of EDSA ‘86, or of people power at all.

Revolution Revisited in this form is thus just a reminder of the fact that Komenich’s  perspective is that of someone who might have lived with us in those four days of EDSA, and who might think himself one with us. But ultimately this exhibit is reminder that he is just a foreigner who fails tremendously to see and celebrate EDSA ’86 for what it was then, and what it should be about now: a time when the greatness of a people was proven by their collective ability to be fearless and courageous in the face of possible death.

This exhibit’s revisiting of EDSA 1986 fails the people power revolution; as such it also ultimately fails all of us.

Revolution Revisited ran until March 5 2011 at the Ayala Museum, Makati Avenue corner Dela Rosa St., Makati City, and is now on a mall and campus tour.

 

EDSA 1986 historical facts from reading Chronology of a Revolution by Angela Stuart-Santiago. All of it is up at EDSARevolution.com.