It was with an amount of dismay, and then disgust, that I read about “In Her Shoes,” the National Youth Commission (NYC) campaign for Women’s Month, one that they started last year and which they continue in 2015.

Because apparently a year hence no one in that commission thought there was anything wrong with using the high-heeled shoe as a symbol of woman power. No one reassessed the notion that walking in women’s shoes literally would be akin to experiencing figuratively what women go through every day. No one asked: are we being sexist by imagining that uniting with women, that paying tribute to our mothers, wives, sisters, daughters for Women’s Month is about wearing high-heels for fun?

You know the answer to that one, gentlemen.

The (non-)challenge of heels
According to NYC Chairperson Gio Tingson: “To walk in women’s shoes is a challenge for men to understand and reflect on the daily plight of women, rethink attitudes toward them and to realize the bias against women that is inherent in our culture, practices and values” (NYC Website, 6 March). Tingson, along with NYC Commisioner actor Dingdong Dantes, walked with a hundred Filipino men in high heels “to celebrate Pinay Power” on March 6. They called “In Her Shoes” a “fun walk.”

The point being this, according to Commissioner Perci Cendaña: “For a man to truly understand how it is to be a woman in our society, he should walk a mile in her shoes. We aim to call attention to the plight of women which normally men, consciously or unconsciously, do not take notice of. We hope that through this event men would reflect on the plight of women in our country. We encourage Filipino men to take a few moments to put themselves literally and, more importantly, figuratively in the shoes of women.”

The questions of course are multiple: Will a man wearing high heeled shoes for an hour or two mean any understanding at all of the daily plight of women in this country? Will this “fun walk” in heels force a man to think about his attitudes and biases against women? Will a pair of wedges or stilettos change a man’s mind about the role his mother or his wife plays in the home? Will it make him think, ah, how difficult a life the women in my life are living, playing multiple roles, and living with oppressive expectations, whatever shoes they might be wearing? (more…)

Love, deceit, man, woman

Juego de Peligro is an adaptation of the 18th century novel Les Liaisons dangereuses by Pierre Choderlos de Laclos, the more famous version of which is the 1988 film Dangerous Liaisons. The original text is transposed to late 19th century Manila and reveals it as a time of decadence, one premised on a class structure bound to conservatism and gender roles, love and desire.

It is a world of appearances, where the elite speak of reputation and expectation even as they put these into question, knowingly and otherwise, behind closed doors. Where it is in the enclosed spaces – the home, the room – that the negotiations between man and woman take place, the outside space is navigated by the indio whose predisposition to curiosity and tsismis is used by the elite as tool for deception.

That this time was imagined to cradle this story of love, desire and deception, with the decadence of beautifully made clothes and properly coiffed hair, and a mass uprising that’s imminent, is this adaptation’s gift. (more…)

sometimes one becomes unclear about whether or not the presidential spokespersons are actually on the President’s side, painting as they do some of the more unstable images of PNoy.

with regard the question of the President seeking and listening to advice of a suspended official like ex-PNP Chief Alan Purisima, for something as critical as the Mamasapano operation at a time of peace negotiations with the MILF, Spokesperson Edwin Lacierda is quoted to have said:

“No law prohibits the President from exercising his discretion to get the views of a suspended official on a particular matter, if this would raise the confidence level of the President’s executive decision-making,” Lacierda told reporters. 

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The failure of capture

At the heart of Time Stands Still (written by Donald Margulies) is the crisis of capture, the kind that’s familiar to anyone who engages with more difficult, more violent, more painful current events in order to present these as honestly as possible, without intervening in its story, and in order to do justice to its telling.

Photo-journalist Sarah (Ana Abad Santos) and journalist James (Nonie Buencamino) have gained acclaim and credibility for doing work on conflict-torn territories in the Middle East. Working as individuals together, they find themselves victims of the stories that they follow. James had gone home ahead of Sarah, traumatized by having witnessed a bomb explosion before his eyes. He would soon enough find himself picking Sarah up from a hospital in Germany after she falls victim to a bombing herself. She is in a coma for weeks, and wakes up to a broken leg and scarred face.

The couple comes home to their staid apartment in America, the war they came from now the backdrop of their story, as it is the context of the relationship that is in the throes of individual trauma. It is a relationship that can now be viewed without the urgency of elsewhere. Or so they think.

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today, the nation watched and cried and grieved as the 42 slain police commandos of the Special Action Force of the Philippine National Police arrived in Manila in coffins.

the members of the cabinet were present, as were Senators Bongbong Marcos and Nancy Binay, former First Lady Imelda Marcos, former President Fidel Ramos, and Vice President Jejomar Binay.

President Noynoy Aquino was nowhere in sight. there was no member of the Aquino family representing him. there is no valid reason for this absence.

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