‘Kikoy’
The scams never seem to end. Another daily newspaper had an article last week featuring the mayor of Masantol, Pampanga, complaining that his municipality had been sent manicure/pedicure “kikay kits” as a livelihood project, the kits charged against Masantol’s funds. The mayor said his signature had been forged, and the kits, which were supposed to be accompanied by training workshops, were totally inappropriate for his community, mainly composed of fisherfolk.
Let me explain the term “kikay kits” briefly. “Kikay” is a slang term which means a female flirt, or to be flirtatious (sample in colegiala English: You’re so ‘kikay’). A “kikay kit” thus refers to the arsenal—cosmetics, accessories—used, well, for “kikay” expeditions.
I empathize with Masantol but couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, the “livelihood” scam got through our usually vigilant Commission on Audit because the fact is that we do have a large number of “kikoys,” including those who use manicure and pedicure.
I have noticed the manicures and pedicures on our men for years, but have a feeling that the numbers seem to be increasing, and with a shift in the demographics. Many years ago the manicure was something enjoyed by a few upper-class men, a way of saying that they are of the idle rich with no need to do manual labor. Note the difference from women, where it isn’t just nail polish but also long, long nails to emphasize even more strongly not having to do manual labor.
The bright red polish is something else—animal behaviorists will say that as humans evolved and lost our visible estrus or fertile period, humans began to use alluring colors for lipstick and nail polish, notably red, to signal availability.
And the pedicures? With women, it’s still long nails painted with bright polish to symbolize a life of idle luxury. With men, I would think it’s similar, except the nails have to be clipped. Getting the pedicure, like a slow razor shave, is to say: “I don’t need to work. I have all the free time.”
With time, the nail polish has faded from among upper-class men, a “manicure” or “pedicure” now used only to mean having your nails clipped and shaped. The sense of idleness and privilege is still there; the message is that you have the time after a haircut for one of the women to do your nails.
Ask professors at the University of the Philippines and they’ll tell you, too, that even if we wanted to get our nails done, we just don’t have that luxury of time. Ask my barbers, who have stopped asking me if I want a manicure or pedicure because I’m always rushing in and out of the barbershop, wanting a quick haircut and that’s it. And, yes, I have problems remembering to clip my nails, and have assigned my kids to remind me.
Ocular survey
The kids would find it really funny if I ever did get a manicure and pedicure, especially after I did a bit of social science research with them a few months back. We needed to get something at a Waltermart mall in Santa Rosa and immediately, I noticed that the majority of men—I mean the majority—had manicures and pedicures. It wasn’t just clear nail polish but a pinkish color from a “gamot” (medicine) used with the polish. I pointed out the manicures and pedicures to the kids and asked them to remember what these looked like.
Waltermart has more low- and middle-income customers, including, at least in the Santa Rosa area, overseas workers, notably seafarers. When we moved on to a more upscale mall, I asked the kids to resume their ocular survey and report back male pedicures. After half an hour, the kids still hadn’t found anyone, and I had to end the survey because they were beginning to look funny looking at male feet. We had dinner and strolled around a bit and one of the kids did find one person with the pedicure, who I suspect was a security guard off duty.
Cultural lag
All this is a clear case of cultural lag, best exemplified by male manicured nails stained from smoking (nail polish has great affinity with nicotine), with lower-income male Filipinos thinking that the smoking, and the manicuring, are still symbols of wealth, not realizing that the rich are dropping both practices.
I am constantly amazed at how the manicures and pedicures have spread. Last June one of my new university scholars, from a really remote area in Mindanao, showed up at my office. I was aghast to find he had nail polish. I normally don’t comment on what students wear but felt I had to speak out here and tell him the polish had to go. He asked if it was “bawal” (forbidden) in UP and I answered, tongue in cheek, that nothing is ever “bawal” in UP and that we prefer students to learn what is… The smart student filled in the blanks, saying, sheepishly, “appropriate.”
When he had first come to Manila to be interviewed, this student did not have the nail polish. I suspect that after he was admitted, he thought that he had to conform to some image of the UP student, all dressed up, with nail polish. He has learned, quickly, that we dress down in UP and that if any male has nail polish it’s black or green, more as part of a Gothic-look gimmick.
So are these manicured and pedicured men “Kikoys” trying to attract a mate? I wonder. I have asked people why they have the manicure and pedicure and two answers keep coming up: “Para mukhang malinis” (expanded translation: So the nails look clean, especially with the pinkish tinge, which comes from the manicurist applying a disinfectant) and “Masarap kasi” (it’s nice, pleasurable, to have a manicure or pedicure).
I haven’t asked women if they find the manicure and pedicure on men attractive, but some of the men tell me their wives like the nail polish. One of them, a seafarer on leave, told me it was his wife who did the manicure and pedicure. Now that’s another angle: the male being served, preened and, well, polished, by the female. Which would that mean the Masantol manicuring-pedicuring livelihood scheme for fishermen just isn’t going to work.
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