Freedom loving

Independence Day is a big deal for any country, including the Philippines. I still remember other celebrations held decades ago that featured a parade of, among others, Katipunero veterans wearing the woven tricorn hat emblazoned with the “KKK” and clad in light blue pajama-like uniforms. (I guess there are no longer Katipuneros around.) They were joined by veterans from other conflicts, soldiers and cadets marching in unison, impressive military hardware, and even marching bands.

I don’t recall making our way to Luneta to watch the proceedings, but I do remember my parents gathering the family in front of the TV set to behold the ceremonies and celebrate our independence.

My father being a veteran of the Korean War, I guess it was a big thing for him to let us join in this civic celebration, even if only over the airwaves. Much later, I remember joining the family of a good friend who scored a free stay in a hotel fronting Roxas Boulevard so we could all join the festivities marking our Centennial as a free country. Truth to tell, we were there mainly for the evening fireworks, but we were drawn as well by the thought of taking part in a milestone celebration, even if we were high up over the boulevard.

Civic parades and observations may be mainly for “show,” but they send a message as well to the rest of the country. I remember still the fuss being kicked up in the run-up to the Centennial about the expenses the festivities entailed, with people grumbling that the amount spent was wasteful in the face of the poverty then (and still) haunting so many Filipinos. At the time, I asked what all the protests were all about, wanting to know “if we aren’t worth it.” That is why we observe historical milestones: precisely to tell our people—and generations to come—that we are worth a fuss, that milestones in our history are worth celebrating because we are celebrating ourselves, our Nation, and the freedoms we have fought for so bravely.

And that’s why, when President Duterte chose to skip the flag-raising rites at Luneta and subsequently cancel the traditional vin d’honneur reception usually held in Malacañang with the diplomatic community, people raised their eyebrows and wondered how our leader could so belittle the observance of Independence Day. Especially on a day like last Monday, when flag-raising rites in Marawi drew tears and welling pride that the national symbol still flew over the ruined city; and recalled for everyone all those people—military and civilians—who already sacrificed their lives to keep the nation intact.

Sure, the President is entitled to a few more hours of much-needed sleep. But did he have to catch those zzz’s on a day when the President is called upon to stand as a leader and symbol of the nation? Alas, he wasn’t even capable of making that small sacrifice in tribute to all who have died that we remain free.

In the United States, people are observing the 50th anniversary of the Supreme Court ruling in the case “Loving vs Virginia,” which finally struck down state laws forbidding inter-racial marriages.

My attention was called to this milestone by an FB post by my cousin Ernie Braganza, one of three children of my uncle, Dr. Ted Braganza and my Tita Agnes (nee Logan). In my family, I don’t remember any big fuss being made against the union of my psychiatrist uncle and the nurse he fell in love with. Indeed, in my Lola Eming’s waning years, Tio Ted and Tita Agnes even came home to Manila to try carving out a life here.

Ernie’s post led me to the New York Times feature where various inter-racial couples, who got married in the wake of the decision, from the early 1960s to a few years back, wrote short essays on their experiences and how they coped with the reactions of family and friends. Most interesting was the post of an inter-racial lesbian couple; they said people seem to be more disconcerted by their being of the same gender than their being of separate races.

Love takes many forms, raises many questions. But the answers can all be found in each other’s hearts.