fullman*

Photo from www.gmanews.tv

The first time I sided with Cory Aquino was when I was in grade school. It was, I suppose, at the height of the snap elections. Maricon, the granddaughter of our school’s principal and my Grade 2 classmate, came to me one day in our school playground and tried to bully us to do the Marcos’ V sign.

I didn’t like her. Wiry hair, frail, pale, and an unforgivable name. A brat, too. So I defied her, told her “na Laban ako”, flashing the L sign, all of which – the labels, the gestures – actually meant nothing. I merely picked them up from grown ups. Already a Marcos loyalist, Maricon said she’s not inviting me to her birthday party.

Growing up outside Manila meant getting second-hand information about what’s happening in the country’s political capital. I have no recollection of the People Power Revolution other than the songs that were played in the radio, and knowing that Aquino’s ‘L’ won over Marcos’ ‘V’. But even Maricon just shrugged it off.

There was a faint recollection about Cory Aquino making the country proud, but Cory Aquino was montage of images, stories, and experiences imported from Manila: power was intermittent in our province, thus we didn’t really care if Manila suffered from horrible black outs; we listened to radio reports about the coup, and we were fascinated, not worried, by Tora-Toras; ‘Tie a Yellow Ribbon’ was a staple in sing-along karaoke parties, with everyone doing the L sign. In one declamation contest, my sister did a parody of Cory, delivering her speech on top of a chair.

Our Cory was therefore a collage of news and stories from outside. Yes, we, too, were children of People Power, but we were outside of it, perhaps our yellow a shade lighter.

The picture only became complete during my college years in UP. Cory, who was no longer the President, became hyphenated – Cory and the US regime, foreign debt, Hacienda Luisita, Mendiola Massacre, with being ‘dilawan’ (reformist). Cory the anti-women rights, Cory the theocrat. True, the sense of awe was there, and it never left, but what I learned in college merely confirmed that Cory was no saint.

And probably she never considered herself as such. I remember feeling elated by her support for Estrada’s impeachment, which culminated in EDSA 2, my generation’s own people power. Then, years later, witnessing her apologize to Estrada while calling for GMA to step down – there was discomfort, a feeling akin to alienation, perhaps, to being shortchanged. But how can she be condemned for that apology, when EDSA 2 itself was a shortchanged uprising – the alienation did not begin with Cory flip-flopping, it began when immediately after EDSA 2 the urban communities of Manila marched to Malacañang and disowned what we thought was a collective aspiration, our generation’s version of the People Power.

Yesterday, in La Salle, I tried to reflect on what Cory death means for me. The hypens are still there, and I don’t think people have been remiss in pointing out that they exist. But I went to the wake not to forget about the hyphens, but out of gratitude: Cory was no saint, but she carried the symbol of a nation united against tyranny. It was an act of bravery, and that she made that choice is for me a reason enough to pay tribute to the woman in yellow. And what makes Cory’s legacy more meaningful is the status quo: our nation is as poor, or even poorer, because what’s prevailing is a poverty of the spirit – a dehumanization of a people – and the dearth of leaders strong enough to make brave decisions. She gave us something we can always look back to when we need inspiration: she was the embodiment of our own ‘Yes we can’ moment.

Cory is dead, and before the circus closes in, before she’s canonized and commodified we should all reflect on what she was to us, and reclaim the symbol: we must own the legacy of People Power, before it’s taken over by the oligarchs, by a populist press, by the trapos we keep on electing to office.

Inside La Salle, among politicians and activists of the first People Power, there was a buzz about the end of an era. I agree. Some say it is for the better – another uprising wouldn’t be good for the country. I think only history can make that judgment: true, there are moments when banners are best left unfurled, but there are moments when we need to draw the line and make that brave choice, the same that Cory made, and tyranny is one of them.

To you, Tita Cory, Paalam at Maraming Salamat.