October 11, 2007
I'm more important than his bladder
Men are sometimes strange when it comes to romance.
I got a call from the husband today as he was rushing into his hotel room in Florida after being given a brief respite from the conference he’s attending. Rushing because he had only a few minutes to spare to a) call the wife and b) use the bathroom.
Me: So, how was your day?
Hubby: [Describes his long day of sessions and meetings with techies and geeks. Rich geeks.] How was yours?
Me: [Describes an uneventful Wednesday and how I was planning to go to the park with the stepson.]
We go back and forth, joke around, call each other jerks for 10 to 15 minutes. Then –
Hubby: Hey.
Me: Yes?
Hubby: I love you!
Me: I love you too!
Three seconds of silence.
Me: Did you say that because you’re getting ready to say bye?
Hubby: I will be soon.
Me: Why?
Hubby: I have to use the bathroom.
Me: What? You’ve been holding your bladder all this time?
Hubby: Yeah, I wanted to call you first.
Me: Why would you do that?
Hubby: I thought it was the right thing to do… calling you first.
Me: Aww… that is so sweet!
Hubby: I wanted to do the right thing.
Me: You did the right thing.
A pause –
Me: And then 20 years down the line you’re going to blame me for your prostate problems.
Hubby: Maybe. But at least I did the right thing.
It is moments like this that displace the pains of removing 5,000 5mm-long hairs all over the bathroom floor after the husband is done shaving.
Shame on you, grandma!
Speaking of discrimination, I haven’t had the misfortune of being targeted directly since I got here September last year. The DC Metro region is pretty much heterogenous. Anywhere you go at least three different languages are spoken within earshot. Last month, however, I was shocked to see how some people are still stuck in their small, pathetic world of racial intolerance.
Rose and I were invited to lunch by another Filipina (we’ll call her E) we recently bumped into. E happens to be married to a former Navy man and so we were treated to lunch buffet at the Andrews Air Force Base’s country club. The food was superb (Re’Sean was chowing down a plateful of steamed mussels like there was no tomorrow) and the conversation was great. What happened on our way back to the car was what spoiled an otherwise great outing with friends.
As we piled into the car, I saw an elderly white woman frantically pointing her finger at the car parked next to us. When I asked E’s husband what the woman was saying, he said she'd told him to be careful not to hit the next car. What was wrong with this particular scenario was that she didn’t own the freaking car. What was wrong with this scenario was that she didn’t work at the parking lot either. What was wrong with this scenario was that she wasn’t speaking to a bunch of teenagers who are just learning how to drive. What the heck was she thinking? That a grown black man who happens to be in the company of Asians could not maneuver his way out of the parking lot?
I told the husband via text message that in my mind I wanted E’s husband to run over the old hag.
What?
I love old people. Non-racist old people.
October 10, 2007
Aww... our baby's getting old
My nephew, Kirshan, turned 11 last Sunday. Can't believe it's been 11 years since I was cramming for my final exams during my senior year outside the delivery room while my sister was screaming her lungs out for this munchkin. He was placed unceremoniously on a desk at the nurses' station a few minutes later along with five or more newborns. Yup, public hospitals in the Philippines run like factory. I honestly was fearful that we'd end up bringing home the wrong baby. However, his mom's features were unmistakable.
Surrounded by adults all his life, I don't think Kirshan ever went through the baby talk phase. He's spoiled rotten on his dad's side of the family but we make sure we straighten him out when he's at our home. As soon as he'd see the belt, he knows it's all about business. More than just giving him his name, it's good to be part of someone's life in the formative years. I miss being the tutor, surrogate mom during PTA meetings, evil aunt when the situation calls for it, slave driver on household chores, and more than happy chaperone to the movies and video game arcades who occasionally indulges him on toys, ice cream and junk food.
Were we being targeted?
All right, let’s take a trip to Wisteria Lane. I have watched Desperate Housewives quite a few times when I was still in the Philippines. Wasn’t bad, wasn’t good either. A recent episode, however, has left thousands of enraged Filipinos up in arms, demanding an apology from ABC. The network did issue a written apology, saying there was no intent to malign Filipino health professionals, but even that was not enough to appease those who have signed a petition for the Sept. 30 episode to be removed or edited. The protesters’ demands include a “broadcast public apology, cultural sensitivity training for network staff, more shows depicting Filipinos and other minority groups as ‘prominent, positive role models,’ and support for Filipino-American projects that will strengthen diversity awareness.” Are we taking the issue way too far? Are we making a big fuss over a bad joke? Are we simply thin-skinned when the joke’s about us? The dialogue goes:
Gynecologist: Listen, Susan, I know for a lot of women the word menopause has negative connotations. You hear aging, brittle bones, loss of sexual desire…
Susan: OK, before we go any further, can I check these diplomas? Just to make sure they aren’t, like, from some med school in the Philippines?
Sure, the joke easily comes off as a put-down. Sure, the punchline does not put us in a good light and if I were in the medical profession, I’d be insulted as well. Would I picket ABC Studios to express my disgust? Probably not. Do I think it was a racial slur? No. I think most Americans are aware that Filipino nurses and doctors are coming to the US in droves to the point that they are slowly but surely leaving our own health system bankrupt. If hospitals and other medical institutions had no faith in their skills, training and experience, why bother petitioning them? We have already proven that we are as equally skilled if not better than US-trained health professionals so our pride should be intact.
In the Philippines, we laugh about how anyone can easily buy fake diplomas and public documents along Recto. You can be an engineering graduate from a top-notch university in a matter of minutes. Need a fake passport? No problem. Apparently the writers of Desperate Housewives got wind of this counterfeiting business and incorporated it in the show for a dose of humor. Now that “foreigners” are telling the story, we are not laughing. It was insulting because there was a hint of truth in it. It was insulting because it brought to light some of the bad practices our country has failed to get rid of. It was insulting because it hit home.
My question is, if the joke were about Nigerians and online get-rich-quick scams, or how almost every Mexican is perceived to have jumped off the border, do we see ourselves condemning such bigotry? Or do we see ourselves as laughing and then getting on with our lives? It's easier to be emotional than rational. I say let's learn to pick our battles wisely and keep our chin up.