Why I Never Dance

Imperialism is a word that sits
On the tips of Filipinos’ tongues
Like the sting of a sore that will never heal
Because of all he pride we’re forced to swallow

In Cebu
They celebrate Sinulog
Where revelers dance in unified rhythm
Currents of people drifting concurrently to the drone of drums
Like the current of the pahina

Bodies entranced
Souls liberated
Melt down to liquid
And return to the Gods
Through dance steps and body motions

But a once spiritual dance
Has now become a lavish competition
Where children and adults alike
Come to compete and prove
Through bright props and expensive costumes
Who can most pretentiously display the Filipino acceptance of God

No longer idolizing past Anitos
But now idolizing Santo Niño
A statue of the child Jesus
Brought by Magellan in the 1500’s

And though not being Cebuano
I am still torn between the obvious contradictions
In the Filipino embrace of Catholicism

Magellan never did circumvent the globe!

On the shores of Mactan
Magellan’s cannons, men, and muskets
Were met by warriors with spears and undying resistance
As the Spanish ships crashed into corals
So did wounds crash into Magellan’s flesh
And on April 27th 1521
Magellan’s life was taken by Lapu Lapu and his fierce men

And so the ideas were reinforced
These godless, brown savages must be saved
These animals must be tamed

But the infection of the Imperialist world
Was not welcomed with open arms

It came like the pull of a trigger
Like burning homes

It came like comfort women
Legs spread with guns against their faces
Like the tears of their crying children

It came like world wars
Like resistance

It came like a virus
And epidemic
A plague

And they still suffer from it

Corrupt politicians
False capitalist hopes
Cities of families poisoned by toxic waste
Left by a former occupier and current ally
Yes, by father America

Media gods and goddesses
Resembling mestizos and foreigners
Speaking in tongues of more English than Tagalog
Proving to the citizens
That just like in America
Whiter is better

But my tears are no longer clear
When they’re mixed with blood
So sometimes I can’t see too well
And my soul still feels like it’s being pulled
Between heaven and hell
Because I can’t stop to make a stand against the things done to my ancestors’ land
Because as much as I can say
My ancestors’ culture was raped
I am forced to say
My ancestors raped a culture

As much as I want to point my finger at crooked descendents
My crooked appendage never seems to stray too far away
And somehow maintains an origin and destination that is one in the same
Because the blood of the Filipinos have been spilled, spread, and blended so often
We can’t tell the difference

And so now I am a product of both the colonized
And the colonizer
But I will not apologize for the sins of my forefathers
Because like the bastard child beaten by unloving parents
I will respect where I come from

But I will never apologize
And will never forget