The pitfalls of deference
Lack of deference, nevertheless, should never be confused with rudeness or even smugness… [more of] an awareness of my worth, as well as a sensitivity to the tenor of situations.
In atypically Filipino fashion, I wasn’t raised to be deferential. I’ve often wondered if that was because I was raised in a mostly English-speaking home—I say mostly because when we were very young, my mother did attempt to teach us Spanish. But, as she would explain, my father didn’t really speak the language.
So English became the default spoken at home.
(Not) lost in translation
As embarrassing as it is to admit today, I was unfortunately part of that generation, and I suppose class, that learned Tagalog only at school—one paltry subject in an otherwise all-English curriculum. Even the help was spoken to in English, when my pathetic Tagalog abilities would inevitably fail me.
Yet bizarrely, we’d have parallel conversations: me speaking in English, the yayas replying in Tagalog. And everyone seemed to understand each other.
Thus, the words “opo” and “po” were absent from our vocabulary. While we weren’t obligated—or even taught—to greet elders with “mano po,” we were brought up to respect intelligence and manners rather than seniority or authority. Of course, this was never explicitly communicated to us; rather, it was something we instinctively understood from watching our parents.
In the face of authority
Being unfazed by authority is perhaps what made my mother, Ninez Cacho-Olivares, unafraid to roll her eyes when she was compelled to read government propaganda on live TV as a news anchor for Newswatch during the Marcos years. This enraged the information minister at the time—Greg Cendaña.
However, that was merely child’s play—compared to her other daring acts of rebellion. (Yes, the book is coming soon.)
I have, fortunately or not, inherited that same nonchalance in the face of authority. For the most part, it’s worked well for me. I’m not easily cowed by anyone’s fame or position or wealth, but I will unhesitatingly accord respect where respect is due.
I mean, as a student in Paris once, Bill Murray and I crossed paths once inside the Institut Catholique, and I said to him, “Seen any ghosts lately?” To which he gamely replied, glancing at the neoclassical 1875 architecture of the campus buildings, “Looks pretty spooky here.”
And that was that. No fawning fangirling required.
But this comes from a place of privilege
But my mother and I have never deluded ourselves into thinking privilege has never played a part in our feeling free to believe we were everybody’s equal. In a Philippines that still hasn’t shaken off the vestiges of colonialism, being white-passing, fluent in English, and comfortable in exclusive—for want of a better word—spaces gave us seats at tables we didn’t ask for.
Maybe it was also our charm…
That said, my birth certificate does have my mother down as “Race: White.”
Lack of deference, nevertheless, should never be confused with rudeness or even smugness. I’d like to think that it’s not so much a lack of deference I possess, but an awareness of my worth, as well as a sensitivity to the tenor of situations. I won’t barge into spaces I’ve no business being in, but I will speak my mind when the occasion demands it.
How bizarre
So I find the Filipino propensity for deference to the point of obsequiousness so perplexing. Like that politician’s aide who jumped out of the car holding an umbrella over his boss’ head—past midnight on a clear night—when their convoy was not allowed to pass through a Dasmariñas Village that had already closed at 10 p.m.
Deference in our society often simply reinforces the glaring inequalities between classes. Especially when it comes to the law, which, according to our constitution, must be applied equally to every citizen.
We all know this to be a farce. Recent events in the carnival that we call politics have demonstrated all too well—that for every instance of extreme deference, there is a lack of deference that amounts to abuse of power.
Say it for what it is
It is an abuse of power to suddenly claim an anxiety attack or high blood pressure, or—as one ex-president alleged—cervical spondylosis, at the precise moment of arrest for plunder and corruption, and be given special treatment.
Does Tatang with the bad back and a limp, stuck in the municipal jail for stealing a kilo of rice, get at least an orthopedic mattress, so he can sleep without pain? He can’t even expect a fair trial! Meanwhile, thieves in government who’ve stolen billions are rewarded with concierge service.
Alleging sudden illness when, just days before, these same politicians were blustering about not being afraid to face the full force of the law and defend the so-called false and politically motivated charges against them. It borrows from such a tired and unimaginative playbook!
Funny how their creativity fails them at the most consequential moments, yet serves them well when it comes to hiding their assets and the funds they stole from us—the people they supposedly serve.
My Tagalog may be execrable, but I do know enough to say this: Ang kapal ninyo!
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