Faux Real
kbolilia@theguidon.com

First things first: I am not going to talk about the RH bill—its proponents, detractors, and the people who could not care less. Not the fact that it’s been filed in Congress for 14 years, and certainly not the fact that it still isn’t urgent. Second, I am not going to talk about Carlos Celdran, and the mass hysteria that he has caused, the Facebook page he has inspired, or the several headlines he’s made recently. I am though, going to talk about how we are a country instantly mobilized by a single drastic action.

Let’s take a pedal back in history. In 1986, Ninoy Aquino’s passing had instigated the first People Power Revolution, and had freed us from Ferdinand Marcos’ authority. Two decades and four years later, Carlos Celdran barged in Manila Cathedral where a mass was being held, in full Jose Rizal costume, while holding up a card that only said “Damaso.” One man, resolute and committed to carrying on a mission—it seemed like a winning tactic to get our blood boiling, and to ignite a concealed nationalistic spirit. We petition for their freedom, and create appropriate media to channel and substantiate our opinions. But does someone have to die, or be threatened with excommunication, for us to actually build up some resistance for something we believe in?

Yes, the RH bill is by no means parallel to fighting for a nation’s independence, but it is a revolution on its own, still—and after its stagnant residency in the Congress, barely touched by over four terms of every legislator there, it is finally getting some attention. Our history has suffered regimes of repression, and we are scarred by voluntary silence. But the winds are gusting wildly, and evidently, more aggressively—we are all clamoring for change.

But are a people of extremes, habitual aficionados of grand gestures with a penchant for the “ikaw na muna, sunod ako” attitude? And for as long as the waters are lukewarm, we do not attack, we do not react, we do not exhibit a more concrete form of a stand. We applaud and stand behind the bravery of others. We always need leverage, a trusty liaison to really hit them where it hurts, but daring to make a puncture of our own, is an entirely different question.

There are always going to be people rocking the boat, but it’s beginning to be a cyclical onslaught of courage provided by a few, that we reward with support and encouragement. The Ninoys and the Carlos Celdrans of the world are a rare commodity, and who really knows when our next go-to man is going to arrive. In a way, we are groupies of mass disruption—and our rockstars are the people who dare strum the riffs of truth, and those who have enough balls to well,  stick it to the man. The thing is, rockstars lose their luster, but the songs and the legacy, remain.

Thank you for the music, and may we never forget the lines to each song. But more importantly, may we have the audacity to sing it with our own tune—high-pitched, baritone, heck, even out of tune. Just as long as we keep singing.