The Conversion by J. Neil C. Garcia
It happened in a metal drum.
They put me there, my family
That loved me. The water
Had been saved just for it, that day.
The laundry lay caked and smelly
In the flower-shaped basins.
Dishes soiled with fat and swill
Pilled high in the sink, and grew flies.
My cousins did not get washed that morning.
Lost in masks of snot and dust,
Their faces looked tired and resigned
To the dirty lot of children.
All the neighbors gathered around our
open-aired bathroom. Wives peered out
from the upper floor of their houses
into our yard. Father had arrived booming
with cousins, my uncles.
They were big, strong men, my uncles.
They turned the house inside-out
Looking for me. Curled up in the deepest corner
Of my dead mother's cabinet, father found me.
He dragged me down the stairs by the hair
Into the waiting arms of my uncles.
Because of modesty, I merely screamed and cried.
Their hands, swollen and black with hair, bore me
Up in the air, and touched me. Into the cold
Of the drum I slipped, the tingling
Too much to bear at times my knees
Felt like they had turned into water.
Waves swirled up and down around me, my head
Bobbing up and down. Father kept booming,
Girl or boy. I thought about it and squealed,
Girl. Water curled under my nose.
When I rose the same two words from father.
The same girl kept sinking deeper,
Breathing deeper in the churning void.
In the end I had to say what they all
Wanted me to say. I had to bring down this diversion
To its happy end, if only for the pot of rice
Left burning in the kitchen. I had to stop
Wearing my dead mother's clothes. In the mirror
I watched the holes on my ears grow smaller,
Until they looked as if they had never heard
Of rhinestones, nor felt their glassy weight.
I should feel happy that I'm now
Redeemed. And I do. Father died within five years
I got my wife pregnant with the next.
Our four children, all boys,
Are the joy of my manhood, my proof.
Cousins who never shed their masks
Play them for all their snot and grime.
Another child is on the way.
I have stopped caring what it will be.
Water is still a problem and the drum
Is still there, deep and rusty.
The bathroom has been roofed over with plastic.
Scrubbed and clean, my wife knows I like things.
She follows, though sometimes a pighead she is.
It does not hurt to show who is the man.
A woman needs some talking sense into. If not,
I hit her in the mouth to learn her.
Every time, swill drips from her shredded lips.
I drink with my uncles who all agree.
They should because tonight I own their souls
And the bottles they nuzzle like their prides.
While they boom and boom flies whirr
Over their heads that grew them. Though nobody
Remembers, I sometimes think of the girl
Who drowned somewhere in a dream many dreams ago.
I see her at night with bubbles
Springing like flowers from her nose.
She is dying and before she sinks I try to touch
Her open face. But the water learns
To heal itself and closes around her like a wound.
I should feel sorry but I drown myself in gin before
I can. Better off dead, I say to myself
And my family that loves me for my bitter breath.
We die to rise to a better life.
Saturday, October 13, 2018
TASK A
Give voice to the murdered girl by writing a simple letter that would tell her perspective about the issue as guide:a. If you are to tell the girl to deliver it, what is your version?
b. Message to the persona himself
c. Message to the society you are in
A.
Hey, it's me. The girl you murdered!
I want to tell you the story of my life. Basically why my life ended.
You were still young when your mother died.As you grow older, you so how your life is. You saw how the people in your community struggle to live every single day.
You were happy with me. We are one. We enjoyed wearing your mother's dresses. We enjoyed wearing earrings and powder. I felt like queens when we look at the mirror. We are both happy of what we're doing. Until one day , it all changed.
Everyday , you feel like you are in prison. Your own father was supposed to be your supporter became your punisher. He punished you by drowning you in the metal drum asking you the same question, "Boy or girl?!" Whenever you answered "girl," he puts your head into the drum,drowning you. I witness you suffer. But one thing is certain, I am always inside you.
But then one day, realization starts to hit you. You stop wearing your mother's dresses and earrings. You decided to stop and give up. Maybe you don't want to be punished anymore. You don't want to be in that metal drum anymore so you left me. You abandoned me in the dark. I was happy with you but that changed. That is how you murdered me!
B.
Are you happy with your decision? It seems like you like it . But what if you decided not to kill me? You decided to accept me in your life? You changed but you became reckless. You were like your father who is punisher not just to your son but also to your wife. You became an evil husband to her and about father to your children.
C.
The society is reckless and judgmental. They tell you what to do and tell you what you should be. If you do and follow the things they like, they will judge you. Sometimes, you are forced to fit in in order for society accept you. Please stop this culture. It hurts when someone who is being themselves was being judged and cannot accept by the society. It is the best if you except yourself not minding what others want to you.
TASK B
Create an advocacy poster to the right of the LGBT discrimination in our society.
"It's Okay to be Different"
In order to be accepted in this world , you have to meet the society's expectation. You have to do what they want you to do. You have to be what they want you to be. It is clearly unfair.
A great example of this is being a part of LGBT community. Being gay have so many criticisms from the society we live in. In the end, they fear to be rejected. They do not have the freedom and the write. They hide their true self from the world in order for them to be accepted.
This poster cites that being different is okay You are unique in a special way. LGBT must be accepted in the community. They are not hurting anyone. They are living their lives. It doesn't matter what people are trying to say. We are all humans regarding the gender, beliefs and races and equality is a must. We are still humans even when we are gays, lesbians or straight. It is alright to be different. Be proud to raise the rainbow flag. Be a unicorn in the field of horses.
TASK C
Write an original hypertext poetry regarding the persona in the poem.
"HIS FREEDOM"
He is seeing the judgemental eyes of the society
He has been receiving social criticisms
For showing his true feelings and true form.
A man is for a woman
And a woman is for a man, they say
How about we encourage equality
Where a woman is for a woman
And a man is also for a man.
There are also people like him out there
Thirsty for freedom and human rights
Wanting to be accepted and fearing of being rejected.
He wants to live in a place
Where he feels accepted
Not by how the society wants him to be
But what and who he really is.
He wants to be with the people like him
Raising and waving the rainbow flag
He wants to be free,
Free from those criticisms he receives daily
And proudly says to the world,
"Let me tell you one thing straight,
I'm not"
-Christianne Mae Racca
TEXTULA
Entire poems are written and read on mobile phones.
Traces its origins to traditional tagalog form of poetry called Tanaga.
Text tula or Textula employs communication technology in the sharing of tanaga. A short poetry in a form of tanaga, dalit, and diona that is sent through SMS on mobile phone with your friends, families, loved ones, and through netizens.
It consists of 4 lines with 7 syllables each.
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