My unchanging politics despite the long hiatus; or no, they don't own EDSA

I could not believe it.

The last time I wrote something in this blog, we were still under a much hated President, and it was not Ferdinand Marcos, Sr.

There were many times I wanted to write, but held back. I wanted to give my mind a honeymoon period, so to speak. There were so many things I wanted to write about, from the very petty family quarrels among siblings, to the annoying neighbor I have, to the frustrations of being rejected, to the triumphs of being redeemed, and yes, the May elections.

I wanted to write about the May elections, its conduct and results but hesitated for the simple reason that I wanted to sit out and wait for the finality of its results, even if it was already there staring at us even prior to the casting of the first ballot, as announced by SWS and Pulse Asia.

And he was proclaimed...

He gave a speech...

Wang-wang...

I am just awed by his humanity, so engaged, so simple, so likable. I may not have voted for him, but he is now my President.

There are just too many reasons why I should like him. Regionalism aside, he appointed three Bikolanos to his Cabinet. He appointed my favorite mayor of Naga City where I studied in high school, Jesse Robredo. He chose Leila de Lima, a lawyer from our neighboring Iriga City. And of course, he selected my batchmate in College who is from Guinobatan, Albay, Mon Paje, even if all of us know that he is just bench-warming for Neric Acosta, who, coincidentally, is the godfather of my eldest son. And to top it all, he took in my former boss in La Salle, Bro. Armin.

And of course, I still hate the one to whom he stood against, the one I shall not even dare name if only to symbolize my repulsion, but now stands to represent her district somewhere in Pampanga.

But there is something in me that prevents a willing idolization to grow in the political vaccuum left after nine years of yearning for a counter-narrative, one that would be pitted against what has become a long episode of corruption and personal aggrandizement that surpassed the Marcosian years.

It took me a while to reflect on my negative feelings towards him, and it is only now that I could articulate it with clarity.

It is not because I voted for someone else. I am not that petty. It is easy for me to accept defeat, and move on.

It is not because of his neglect of the environment in his inaugural and SONA speeches, for I could easily overlook these.

It is not because of the annoying cacique mentality of his wards, and the overly vindictive attitude of his eager beavers which has made exposing the already well-known shenanigans of the past administration as a predictable ritual, thereby courting the danger of people getting desensitized to the level of corruption of the short inglorious one.

There is a deeper reason for this.

Perhaps, the problem lies not in him, but in me.

I am just too clairvoyant when it comes to gut feelings about where the country is headed for. I have this feeling that we are heading in the wrong direction, even if the road getting there is the good one.

Perhaps, it is my discomfort with false messiahs, my suspicion of idolatry.

First, they declared his father a hero, even without reflecting on the kind of politics he had prior to his martyrdom.

Then, they almost canonized his mother. There were even attempts to do so, literally and not just politically.

Central to this idolatry is the discourse where the darkness of Marcosian dictatorship has been banished by the light of democracy as supposedly a handiwork, if not an exclusive property of his pedigreed family.

The discourse that has created him is casted in historical myth making that vulgarly took over, or in the language of his mother's politics, "sequestered" the movement that returned power to the people as an event that could have only unfolded because of the heroism of his father Ninoy and the sacrifices of his mother Cory.

And now, he was again casted as the grand architect of the good road to which our country will be redeemed after nine years of inglorious abuses.

It is this hijacking of a historical conjuncture that makes me squirm.

No. The freedom and democracy we have now in this country could not be solely attributable as a legacy of one family, no matter how sweet is the sugar and fertile are the lands which fed them at the expense of those workers who they have now duped out of their entitlemens, in the same manner that the abuses and corruption could not be solely be the work of Apo and the inglorious one.

EDSA is not the property of Cory in memory of Ninoy, now embodied in their son.

EDSA happened because of us, those who toiled to appropriate the memories of a fallen homecoming in yellow ribbons as a symbol to rally around; who supported the yellow widow despite her lack of credentials, and later lionized her despite the fact that her record of governance is, objectively speaking, lackluster; and whose plurality has again bestowed on a lackluster performing Senator-son the mantle of redeeming us from ourselves.

They are heroes because we made them. And for many to diminish the role of the ordinary Pinoys as simply the hapless Jews to be saved from the Pharaohs of corruption is but a lie, a false idolatry of the new gods and saints.

This is the core of my discomfort.

Until such discourse is changed, I could never truly love this President as my own, even if a big part of me thinks he is adorable.

And key to this will be an admission by the son that we are not just his bosses. We are also his creators.