My Gloria Diaz problem

I’m actually referring to my language problem. I was reminded of this recently because of the brouhaha arising from Gloria Diaz’s alleged slur against the Cebuanos.

I did not see the offending portion of the interview and neither do I intend to look into it. What have been written about it, including what Miss Diaz said to explain her side, are enough for me to say let’s move on, let’s go to the next page.

Whatever may be the shortcomings of this former beauty titleholder, we cannot deny the fact that about 40 years ago, in 1969, she turned the whole country electric when for the first time, a Filipina became Miss Universe.

I remember the journalistic hype that time. While the US conquered the moon with their Apollo landing, the Philippines conquered the universe. No one complained about that claim. Everyone was happy.

Those were more simple, more innocent times when beauty contests were good sources of national joy and dignity, something we can hardly say about our present time. Virtue still attended those contests. Now, it seems it’s greed and vanity.

Miss Diaz broke some old molds and introduced new beauty standards in the international scene with her dusky, bright complexion, swan-like neck, a pretty pout that would suddenly break into a wide grin, revealing the spunk inside her.

But, of course, you cannot expect her to be everything. We’re thankful that we got quite a lift with her victory. She was not known for depth or substance, and neither was she expected. But, hey, let’s treat a lady very kindly whatever may be her faults.

To our current titleholder’s “major, major,” Miss Diaz popularized the “you know, you know,” that even our Manny Pacquiao tries to imitate. Come on, let’s giver her a pass.

I was ashamed when we thought of branding her persona non grata. We’re making a storm in a teacup. Have we become that sensitive? Can we not make fun of ourselves from time to time? You know, it’s a Filipino trait. We are inveterate jokers, and we like to make fun of our faults.

This leads me to a more serious matter. I think my predicament reflects that of many people, especially those of my generation. I believe it’s a most complex problem and I hope something can be done about it. If it takes a thousand years to solve it, we better start now.

And it is that while my English is quite developed, my Bisaya has remained primitive, restricted only to domestic and pedestrian use. I’m truly ashamed of this situation. I feel betrayed, a traitor to my own self.

This painful realization was sharper when I was in Rome and Spain to study. There the locals were really good in their mother tongue, such that they could talk philosophy and theology with it.

Not so with me. In these higher branches of knowledge, I had to use my acquired languages—English, Latin or Spanish. Bisaya seems to have no place in them. This, for me, is really a shame.

There can be many explanations to this. What immediately comes to mind was that in my growing-up years, my parents, my father especially, were frantic to have me and my siblings learn English. It was like it was a matter of survival. I suppose they were only thinking of what was best for us in the future.

And so, instead of going to the public school where Bisaya was the medium of instruction for the first few grades, we went to the private school run by some American nuns and priests. We learned English, read and spoke in English, even thought and dreamed in English.

We were surrounded by English literature. I did not find anything in Bisaya, except when I occasionally visited a neighbor’s house where they had Bisaya magazines—Alimyon, etc.

There was a shameful side-effect to this. And that was we developed a condescending attitude toward Bisaya. There I have said it. I can now expect to be stoned. But that’s the truth, about which I now am atoning and making up.

But this language issue, I suppose, now requires a more serious, concerted effort, with a strong political will from our leaders, so it can be resolved properly.

From what I could gather so far, Bisaya has a very distinctive beauty and depth that cannot be captured by our acquired languages. Let’s do something about this problem. May our technological progress be used to help solve this problem.

That’s why, in a way, I thank Gloria Diaz for reminding me of this issue.