Features 02BETWEEN THE SHEETSNever underestimate romance novels.

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As the Abu Sayyaf in-surgents were making headlines in 1998, en-

vironmental science sopho-more Iman Ampatuan and her mother were strolling through a shopping mall. As they pushed through the crowd, four-year-old Iman clung to her mother’s hand—a detail she distinctly re-members—when someone sees her mother’s veil and calls out an accusation: terrorist.

Head held high, Iman’s mother gripped her child’s hand tighter and kept walking—as if nothing had ever happened.

First impressions14 years later, Iman still

finds that first impressions are more of a challenge than usual. Many hold stereotypes about Muslims—and these days, the controversy that a distant uncle has attached to her last name can’t be avoided—but it’s some-thing she’s learned to ride along with. She amuses herself, for instance, by sitting at the back of the class and watching her classmates’ heads turn toward her during roll call.

Long before the scandal in 2009, Iman was already a Muslim student in Christian-dominated Metro Manila. For the most part, she seems like any other college youth: sociable, stressed over academics and active in school organizations like Entablado, a Filipino-language theater group. But once the topic of religion is raised, she is faced with ques-tions like "How does it feel to be a Muslim?" and "Isn’t it weird being Muslim?"

Such queries have the tenden-cy to come off the wrong way, but Iman encourages them, saying, “Go lang!” whenever she senses any hesitation. “I actually love that people are curious and ask me questions,” she says. Mean-while, Anna*, a sophomore,

shares that answering the same question again and again gets tiring. “Sometimes, I just don’t tell people [that I’m Muslim],” she admits.

Anna’s reluctance to broad-cast her religion is understand-able when one realizes that Muslim students also have to face jokes unknowingly made in bad taste. Ramadan, a film directed by 2011 AB COM graduates Dindin Reyes, Carlo Chong and Dave Anastacio, is based on actual experiences of Muslim students. In one scene, the character Muneeb is asked to play a kidnapper for a class project. While his group mates laugh at the idea of their harm-less friend dressed like a member of the Taliban—complete with drawn-on facial hair—Muneeb struggles to tactfully say no to the idea.

Religious discussionIman is constantly asked

whether her years of Catholic education have made her con-sider changing her religion, to

which she continually answers no. “I find Catholicism to be more of a subject than a religion to consider,” she explains. “Life in Islam is what really stuck with me.”

Despite her confidence in her faith, Iman shares that one of her biggest fears is having a Theology teacher who will “grill the non-Christian stu-dents.” However, she also looks forward to the possibility of genuine dialogue with her pro-fessors, having previously chal-lenged her high school teachers’ flawed logic and explanations. “I have great respect for The-ology teachers who can defend their faith against someone who doesn’t believe,” she says.

Anna, on the other hand, cannot share the same certain-ty. For someone who has never taken a class on Islamic theol-

ogy, regular Christian theology classes can put a strain on one’s faith. “Sometimes I feel like I know more about your religion than mine,” she shares.

For the most part though, “there are more convergences between Christianity and Islam than differences,” explains Rene Oliveros, PhD, who teaches In-troduction to Islam. Though Muslims don’t believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ, both religions are monotheistic, and there is great stress on both parts on good works and charity. “The spirituality and ideals are so close; almost kith and kin.” A devout Catholic, Oliveros grew up with a Muslim mother, proof that what little differences the two religions have can be set aside for a harmonious—and even loving—relationship.

However, it seems that these similarities don’t stop local media from calling out Muslims when they can—an issue that truly bothers Anna. “I feel it’s unfair when [reporters] specify ‘Muslims kidnapped or killed these people,’” she says. “What’s the difference between that and saying that a Christian killed someone? Why do they have to specify that the person was Muslim when every day, a Chris-tian or Catholic commits crimes as well?”

The effect of this distortion of the truth is evident in Oliveros’ class. The most popular topic of his students’ final papers is jihad, a religious duty that can be interpreted as an internal spiritual struggle, but is more commonly known as holy war

due to the media’s representa-tion. “That in itself already speaks loud[ly] of the impres-sion of some our students,” says Oliveros.

Differences in the detailsLike any young adult, Iman

and Anna work to balance their conservative background with the more liberal youth culture they’re a part of. The way they dress, for example, can be an issue: while neither girl is ex-pected to observe purdah—the practice of covering oneself with clothes or a veil in order to stay out of the sight of men—their parents draw the line at sleeve-less shirts and shorts. “But I hate pants!” Iman interjects with a laugh.

The two have also gotten used to staying home on Sundays because their friends are cele-brating the Christian day of rest. Anna shares: “Sunday is just a normal day for us.” Another Christian tradition that Muslims have lived with and accepted is Christmas. But Muslims have their own holiday that majority of Filipino students see as merely a reason for having no school: Ramadan.

The 30-day celebration consists mainly of fasting and prayer, and not being able to eat or drink from 4AM to 6PM is made even more difficult when tests and papers are added to the mix. School food, of course,

is tempting—Anna shares that group work in JSEC can be tough during Ramadan. One other thing that they’ve had to get used to is the reaction they get when their friends find out they can’t eat pork. “Someone said to me, ‘you’re missing half of your life!’” laughs Anna about never having eaten bacon.

Finding a place to pray in school during Ramadan can also be difficult, says Oliveros. He recounts a story of Muslim At-eneans who have had to perform purification rites and pray in a bathroom at noon: “In one of these restrooms, they found privacy,” he says.

Heads held highThe paradox of being a minor-

ity is that normalcy has to be worked for. While the prejudice against Muslims continues to be a problem in Philippine society, young Muslims are learning that identity cannot be tied down. As Iman puts it simply: “I like being unique.”

Much like Iman’s mother, the girls hold their heads high. Though both girls keep a low profile, they cannot escape the stigma that comes with being different. “Even in college, people joke around and say things like ‘don’t get that one mad’ or ‘she might kill us,’” says Anna. “But I guess I just got used to it. I know they’re just joking.”

Behind the veil

I find Catholicism to be more of a subject than a religion to consider. Life in Islam is what really stuck with me.

— IMANAtenean college student

By Vernise L. Tantuco

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2

Features

Everybody has a secret. The lump beneath your former yaya’s pillow?

The notebook that your best friend never wants you to see? Your mother’s book with leather binding obscuring the original cover? Have you ever thought that maybe they’re not just being shy? Maybe they have books like “Kundiman Para Kay Sweetheart”, “Silence Means ‘Yes’, Maybe Means ‘No’”, and “Ang Halik Mong Sinungaling” hidden where you’re least likely to find them. Maybe, just maybe, they even like romance novels.

Cookie- cutter novelsFor every rich boy on Filipino

primetime television, there is a poor girl that he is madly—but forbidden to be—in love with. Usually, the rich boy’s mother, who wants him to marry an equally rich girl, is the cause of this forbidden love. Sometimes, it’s the other way around: there is a rich girl in love with a poor boy. Variations of the same themes and plots are littered all over primetime teleseryes and blockbuster films, but people tend to forget that these pre-conceived plots don’t only exist in television—they’re on print as well.

“Hindi naman gaanong kumplikado ang pagsusulat ng romance novel (It isn’t that complicated to write a romance novel),” Joi Barrios, PhD begins

confidently in her essay, Chapter Eight (O Kung Paano Magsulat ng Romance Novel). In it, Barrios describes eight possible basic plots as a template for the perfect pocket book, ending her list with “mga barsyon ng mga nabanggit na” (different versions of what has already been listed). More than plotlines, romances follow a recipe for characters as well. The perfect tall, dark, and hand-

some leading man, must have his equally faultless leading lady: a mestiza of Western descent, or a Nora Aunor-esque beauty, in clothes that show off her figure.

These very figures grace the covers of every P5 pocket book, more often than not, physi-cally touching, and drawn in bright colors. At first glance, these covers aren’t anything special—they’re the kind of thing one would expect from cheap, mass-produced novels. But as Interdisciplinary Studies professor, Soledad Reyes, PhD pointed out, these covers sell despite their aesthetic flaws—a fact that says a lot about Philip-pine culture.

Behind the industryAt the rate of 50 published

titles a month, and with the formulas that Barrios so easily compressed into a three- page essay, romance novels sound like easy money. There is some truth to this: pocketbook manuscripts sell for at least P4000 and most authors get started with the intent of improving their income. But for successful romance authors, the writing is far from easy—there’s a challenge to making every 128- page story accessible to readers of all ages and backgrounds. Pocket book veteran Maribeth dela Cruz (under the pseudonym Martha Cecilia) knows full well what critics say about her seemingly effortless way of earning a living. “It’s the same stories being told over and over again,” she admits in a 2009 interview with Book-watch, the official publication of the National Book Development

Board. “The difference only comes from how you turn the familiar patterns around—how you weave the words.”

Though dela Cruz defends her craft valiantly, many do not take the romance genre seriously. “Some accuse us of publishing trash,” says Segundo D. Matias Jr., one of the founders of Pre-cious Hearts Romance, a pocket book publishing company. For

graduates of universities like Ateneo and La Salle such as Armine Rhea Mendoza, the criticism doesn’t stop at a liter-ary level—writing romances at-tracts social stigma as well. Still, the members of the romance novel industry carry on defend-ing the work they’ve chosen. “At least this way even the poor can read and improve the country’s literacy rate,” says Matias.

True enough, romance novels do improve literacy rates in the Philippines, according to Na-tional Book Development Board (NBDB) Chairman Dennis Gon-zales. Writers like Maria Teresa Cruz San Diego, for instance, are driven to narrow the divide separating high school graduates and doctorate degree holders by giving them stories worthy of their attention. "Very few people read literary books,” she states in an article. “It's a reality that there are more readers of Fili-

pino romance novels."

Hopeful romanticsThose who think that romance

is a fringe genre would be sur-prised to know that romance is one of the highest-selling genres in the world. In a country dominated by classes C, D, and E, millions read romances, ac-cording to the estimates of Pre-cious Hearts Romances. Among those, Bookware Publishing cal-culates that 90% of the readers are women between 13 and 50 years old.

Though not part of that demo-graphic, AB Psychology senior Chantal Tabo loves romance novels, having started in high school. "I like being kilig, and those books really make me kilig," she explains. "Being an avid reader, I also feel the stories. I find myself lost in them."

But the kilig factor isn’t all that readers want from romance

novels. First, they need to be cheap, usually priced between P30 and P40. In fact, San Diego's former publisher almost went bankrupt after an ill-advised idea to raise prices to P45.

Second, the books have to be easy reads. Besides being in conversational Filipino, romance novels have to finish within the 128-page limit. Barrios says that the traditional pocketbook formula is that all conflict has to be resolved by Chapter Eight.

Last, romances need to reso-nate with readers on both an emotional and a moral level. People need to empathize with the protagonist and to see the Catholic values they’ve grown up knowing. Basically: No cheat-ing. No ending up with married men. And if there's sex, it's hinted rather than laid bare.

Though Tabo reads romance novels, she shies away from Filipino romances, citing their brevity, the covers’ lack of

Between the sheetsBy Katerina R. Raraand Vernise L. Tantuco

It’s the same stories being told over and over again The difference only comes from how you turn the familiar patterns around—how you weave the words.

— MARTHA CECILIA,Pocket book veteran

3The GUIDON Design Exercise

appeal, and their own stigma. Still, she doesn’t hide the fact that she likes the romance genre itself, defending what most people call “yaya books”. "It's not about sex,” she says. “It's about love that may be sometimes so much [that] they want to express it."

Escapist in a sense, romance novels allow people to feel the happy endings that not all of them have, so much that they feel bereft when they don't get them."I think romance novels are for people who really have a strong belief in love and happy endings and [who] want to have a life like that. What's wrong with hoping?" Tabo asks. "Maybe the authors just want to promote that love can eventually bring us the happiness we deserve."

Onscreen romancesBy Bea V. Sigua

Amidst the never ending discussion on whether TV and film adaptations are better than their literary counterparts, here are a couple of onscreen adaptations of romance novels.

KristineThis ABS-CBN soap opera is based on Martha Cecilla’s Kristine, a series of books about two rival families: the Fortalejos and the De Silvas. The story revolves around the Fortalejos sisters (Cristine Reyes and Denise Laurel), who fall in love with a De Silva (Zanjoe Marudo).

Precious Hearts Romances PresentsRunning for three seasons now, ABS-CBN’s TV adaptation of the best-selling romance pocketbooks features bestsellers like Bud Brothers and My Cheating Heart, both starring Jake Cuenca.

Ligo Na U, Lapit Na MeThis Cinemalaya 2011 entry is an adaptation of Eros S. Atalia’s novel of the same title, the story of “star-crossed lovers” Intoy (Edgar Allan Guzman), who is poor and street-smart, and Jenny (Mercedes Cabral), who is rich and quirky.

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Features4 The GUIDON Design Excercise

Features4

French sociologist Pierre Bourdieu once wrote that only those well educated

in the language of art have the true capacity to appreciate and understand it.

However, many contemporary Filipino artists beg to differ. Armed with tattoo machines, spray paint, and sometimes a lookout or two, the cry of these unorthodox artists is that space isn’t limited to galleries and audiences aren’t shackled by education.

Today, street art and tattoos are not only present, but widely accepted by art enthusiasts, formal training or no. Long gone are the days when inked skin was sinful and graffiti was disrespectful defacement.

Pinoy, unconventionally Tattoo and street artists have

had to shoulder ill repute in the past. Contrary to popular belief, they are actually fueled by much more than the desire to vandal-ize property and mar skin.

For renowned tattoo artist Tatay Nero Nievo, the appeal of his work lies in its longevity. Though he started off as a com-mercial artist, he was entranced by the idea that ink on skin lasts as long as their wearers do, whereas paintings are signifi-cantly more ephemeral.

His love for tattoos also draws from the fact that they are a very personal art form. Because of the nature of their canvas, he says, “araw-araw inaalagahan, araw-araw tinitignan, araw-araw ipinagmamalaki [ang tattoo.] (Every day tattoos are taken care of, everyday they’re looked at, everyday they’re boasted about).”

In the past, he hasn’t hesitated to turn away potential clients who were resolute in getting designs that were ill-suited to their personalities.

Simila rly, code-na med

members of the art group Ang Gerilya are bound by the passion they share. Brought together by their desire to reinstate the prominence of Filipino comics, their interest eventually expand-ed into the realm of street art.

But unlike Tatay Nero, their work lasts no more than a few weeks, so why utilize graffiti? According to Zap, there is still fulfillment to be found in this manner of communication of ideas because it’s one way for the common people to enjoy art.

Their messages are offered to people who don’t have the privi-lege of enjoying the ‘high art’ found in galleries or exhibitions. The eye-catching, simple nature of their work allows even those who lack formal art education to appreciate their street work.

When carrying out their crafts, neither Ang Gerilya nor Tatay Nero forget their heritage; in all they do, there is a touch of national identity. The artistic practice may be foreign in origin, but the influences are always close to home.

In their art, Ang Gerilya com-memorates historical events and local heroes, inserts socio-political commentary, as well as

imbues values distinct to Phil-ippine culture. Similarly, Tatay Nero admits that though tattoo artistry is practiced across the

globe, the methods and designs used here are uniquely Filipino.

As Zap says in a mix of English and Filipino, “We are Filipino artists, so the work that we do shouldn’t be pretentiously foreign; it should be Filipino.”

Ateneo inkedWhile it’s no surprise that

unconventional artists like Tatay Nero and Ang Gerilya are thriving in today’s art scene, the same cannot be said about the environment within the Ateneo. From the outside looking in, its aura is strictly no-nonsense. With its rigid bureaucratic pro-cedures and love for beige paint, thoughts of it housing such artists are almost laughable.

Beneath its stringent exterior, though, the Ateneo is home to a number of those who keep tat-tooed skin under wraps and have spray cans hidden away.

Take Information Design senior Pam Celeridad, who proudly wears a large tattoo of a tiger encircling a Buddhist auspicious knot on the left side of her torso. Fascinated by the beauty of the art form since her early teens, she got it at 17 and intends to add more in the

future.“My love for the art even

escalated to tattoos being a main influence in my paintings

and artworks,” says Celeridad, who conceptualized the design herself. “My first-hand experi-ence with the tattoo industry opened my eyes and made me realize the endless possibili-ties…of the medium of skin.”

Similarly, Management soph-omore and street artist Miggy Antonio sees his work with the Artsy Fartsy Krew (AFK) as “art for art’s sake.” Though he’s aware that other artists have socio-political agendas, his mo-tivation stems more from taking beautification of the streets into his own hands.

He mentions the MMDA street art project with a mixture of amusement and indignation. “I don’t really see the point...They claim that they’re doing that to beautify but it’s not really beautiful, honestly.”

He uses his art not only as an unconventional channel of getting messages across, but also to create awareness of his craft. His hope for the Ateneo com-munity is that their eyes will be opened to the thriving arena of underground art.

Paradigm shiftAnd it appears that people’s

eyes are indeed starting to open. Street art and tattoos, as unorthodox as they may be, have garnered a sort of near universal acceptance, if not appreciation, from the various sectors that comprise modern Philippine society.

While once viewed as nothing more than the mark of confused and excessively hormonal teenagers, underground artis-tic mediums have developed through time to become the celebrated and evocative art forms they are today.

Celeridad believes that tattoos are not so much marks of rebel-lion, indecency and delinquency as they are expressions of the purest form.

However, the influence of street art and tattoos is not simply confined to the niches of the youth, as these unconven-tional mediums have also de-

veloped a respectable following amongst other societal groups.

Jano of Ang Gerilya says that residents of in areas they bomb actually appreciate their work despite not being that well ac-quainted with the arts. “Dyan mo rin makikita na kahit yung normal na tao, na walang back-ground sa art, na marunong silang mag-appreciate ng art (This shows that even normal people, who do not have a back-ground in art, actually know how to appreciate art).”

Even local government offi-cials are beginning to see street art and tattoos in a more favor-able light. According to Miggy, local government units have provided graffiti artists with venues to work freely, such as the now thickly painted skate

park in Intramuros.

Lasting impressionsWhen it comes to art, no one is

uninitiated; and this is especially true in the case of graffiti and tattoos. In the words of Tatay Nero, underground art forms invade human harmony and shake up the status quo—and rightly so.

With society serving as the focus and the human mind acting as the allegorical canvas, it can be seen that we are all in-explicably caught up in a meta-social movement that is redefin-ing the art scene as we know it.

Pierre Bourdieu, as dignified and snooty as allowable in such a tight space, would roll in his grave.

By Javison T. Guzman,Arianna Y. Lim, and Benny G. Tañedo

Refraction artistry PHOTO FROM FLICKR.COM

PHOTO BY MIGUEL R. SANTIAGO

When it comes to art, no one is uninitiated; and this isespecially true in the case of graffiti and tattoos.