Have you ever wondered what life would have been if you were a black
man in apartheid South Africa? Or if you were born a blue eyed blonde
Marilyn Monroe look-alike who has been stereotyped as dumb and fun
loving but not to be taken seriously? Would you pine for what you
do not have and change he color of your skin, hair, and eyes (do a
Michael Jackson) or create an image of smartness to please the beholder?
On the other hand, such frivolity to play to the approval of your
audience will result to your NOT being true to your self ---- the
real you--- with all your uncultivated unique God given talents and
goodness. Without self awareness and a strong sense of self, discrimination/prejudice
could impact a person destructively.
Prejudice, comes from the Latin term prejudicium or prejudgement.
The
distortion initially comes from the disapproving perception in the
eye of the
observer and is not the real identity of the person being discriminated
about. Once the discriminated follows the point of view of the prejudicer
and rejects himself, it is the start of his self-destruction. This
is my personal diary of my ourney in the world of prejudgement.
I was born in Asi country of Asi parentage. I grew up in tribalistic
Romblon from where the language and culture are markedly dissimilar
from the Asi culture. Romblomanon was the dominant majority and our
family of Asi origin were the lonely, pained, minority during 1950's
postwar Romblon. Unlike other prominent F-surnamed Asi-Romblomanon
bilingual families in Romblon who spoke the Romblomanon dialect, the
Fonte family spoke mostly Asi at home. Asi was our first language
therefore it was my language of home and love. Spanish and Latin taught
by my grandma were the language of prayer and communication to God
(Tenga usted moy Santos noches; or Tantum Ergo Sacramentum,
etc.). Some smattering of Chinese numerals and food nomenclature and
certain words needed in commerce (i.e. nang nang; sit-nan-sah-si-go-lai-
sit-poi-kaw-chap) were also some of the sounds I heard during our
early years in Romblon.
Going to school at age 5 was an overwhelming experience, because my
ears have to get used to English in school (medium of instruction),
and survive in the jungle of the playground and friendship with older
7 year old kids whose tribal language were Romblomanon. Later, I also
learned Tagalog in "Pilipino Komics" and "Tagalog Klasiks"
or from Paeng Yabut's radio show and later in "National Language"
in school.
I was definitely different; miniscule and unarmed verbally, since
I did not
know how to scare others with Romblomanon curse words, or hide behind
stellar titles of relatives in the local Romblon political scene,
nor did I have
authority figures, such as teacher-relatives in Elementary or High
School. When the going got rough in the playground, knowing how vulnerable
and weak I was socially, I dared not take refuge in my other genealogy
(Chinese and Spanish) but instead battled out the teasing using my
Asi heritage or just speechlessly walked away. I have observed how
some Chinese classmates were teased "inchik-patusik-kutsara-papel-tinedor-kahoy"
and how some kids got clobbered to silence as coming from "biak-na-kawayan"
or "biak-na-bato" when they could not explain to other kid's
satisfaction the who, when, where, why, and how of their DNA herirtage.
The early years from 1948 on, were the most difficult before my Mom
who
had a jewelry store and my Dad who was the town treasurer, were able
to command respect and admiration from the townspeople. My social
status in the playground improved a bit, after M. Eding, and M. Peping
(now VG Fonte) went to school in Manila. (Popular perception is that
the family must have money to send their children to secondary school
in Manila) and after my 3 younger siblings were born. I was particularly
boastful of telling the story to friends, of how my kid sister was
born in North General Hospital delivered by a real M.D. doctor, and
not just massaged out by an ordinary "hilot", like all of
us who were delivered at home.
Growing up in Romblon, Romblon means most of my Elementary and High
School classmates were cream of the crop overachievers valedictorians
in outlying islands or children and close kins of Governor, Congressman,
Board Members, land-owners, Mayors, Superintendent, Supervisors, Provincial
Heads of offices, or in short the "Who's who in Romblon".
What does an impressionable kid do when confronted in up-one-manship
by braggart's stories of lavish opulence and still be truthful to
self and others? When a rich classmate bragged about "silk-imported-from-states
bedsheets", I topped her story about "our blankets are also
imported from Cuba" (actually flour sacks with imprint made-in-Cuba,
unravelled and sewn back to make very warm blankets). In the 5th grade
when I was 9 years old my world changed. Rather, significant people
in my life changed their attitude towards me. No, it was not my boobs
or my size (both remained small). Suddenly, my teachers placed me
in the honor roll, my classmates became respectful and intimidated
by my "intelligence", and the townspeople look at me as
if I were E.T., or a wizened yoda know-it-all. M. Rebe who is 1 year
older than me and very smart needed eyeglasses. My Mom brought her
to the Optometrist in Manila and after she was fitted with eyeglasses
my Mom also asked that I should be looked at. To make a long story
short, and to my horror, I ended up wearing glasses, and I became
the youngest 4 eyes freak in Romblon. My recollection of it was, my
eyesight was functional enough, but my Dad thought my substandard
school grades in comparison with my brilliant siblings were due to
poor eyesight. Come to think of it, my business woman Mom must have
been carried away by Dr. C's 2-eyeglasses-for-the price of one promotion.
From then on, I carried the cross of being bespectacled (the equivalent
of being a dork or a geek nowadays). Like the racially discriminated
people who were judged by their appearances, I was defined by my looks
particularly by the presence of my eyeglasses. Confused and bemused,
watching behind my glasses, I was either presumed to have an ability
or a disability. As a preteenager trying to fit in, it was traumatic
to be isolated in a minority of 2 famous or infamous teens with 4
eyes in Romblon. Some comments were ridiculous (an anorectic classmate
heckled me during our class weigh-in that 1 kilo should be substracted
from my measly 60 lbs. because my "anteojos" weighed that
much). Other comments were hurtful "hayap" (weak eyes),
or I was always blamed for any torn pages of books in the school library,
because they thought I read a lot. (Did they think laser rays radiated
from my optics and shredded those books?)
One day my 5 year old brother pulled my optics off and broke the bridge
of
my glasses. My mother wound a tape midline to bind the 2 goggles together,
until she can get a replacement from Manila. Well, it seemed like
forever before it was replaced. Imagine my humiliation having to wear
this disabled symbol of my disability/ability. I was no longer "cute".
I was just an out of luck anomalous anomaly. Needless to say, I was
transformed. I have learned to evaluate a person's inner psyche and
not depend on outside looks. From a mischievous "paradaw"
(show off) preteen, I became shy, subdued, observant, empathetic,
and sensitive of other people's pain and patient and persevering in
my own tribulations. People's perception, stereotyped illusions and
delusions of another person can transform that person for better or
for the worse. In my case, my spectacles has transformed me to the
person I am today, and lead me to my profession of psychiatry. My
spectacles and our family's minority position during my growing up
years in Romblon made me strong and true to my self (psyche's) identity.
As I respect others, despite our differences, I like, respect, and
esteem, my self and I know and accept the good person that I am despite
prejudgement by prejudicial people who feels threatened and scared
of people different in looks and beliefs from themselves.
Shalom, peace, and love to all.
