The golden age lives on with another milestone victory that comes a few days from Christmas. Years of preparation and months of anticipation ends on this day, as streets are clear and everyone’s tuned in. When the moment of truth arrives, it is a Filipino who has claimed victory on the global stage once more.
Manny Pacquiao defeats Oscar de la Hoya.
The day is December 6, 2008. Pacquiao is no more than a national treasure on the boxing ring, a champion tagged as the “Mexican Killer” who’s out to conquer the best outside the South American country after collecting the heads of Diaz, Morales and Barrera. Up next was de la Hoya, a big name but an aging star.
However, the bout tagged as “The Dream Match” turned out to be a sleeper. Pacquiao dominated de la Hoya in eight rounds, sending the legend to retirement. Meanwhile, the Filipino star was just hitting his prime, in which every fight was appointment viewing. Singing the national anthem before his matches meant—and felt—something. Savoring his victories meant—and felt—something. Just being a Filipino during those times was something.
Since then, that feeling has come few and far between. Pacquiao, as well as other athletes, has failed to replicate that level of global success and nationalistic impact, though it was really a generational phenomenon. Fields other than sports and people other than athletes has had little success, as well.
Perhaps the closest that comes to that historic run of one man is the continued domination of Filipino women on the same stage. Since 2010, women who wore the sash that reads “Philippines” have figured in the top 10 of the Miss Universe pageant. Six of them have made it to the top 5, while two have won it all, including the newly crowned Catriona Gray.
I write this mere hours removed from the coronation of the country’s bet as the universe’s queen, and the entire nation remains as red-hot as her Mak Tumang dress inspired by the Mayon Volcano. I‘m even quite confident that if I try to listen intently enough, with eyes closed, I could still hear shrills from a beauty parlor somewhere.
People in the office and those online all proclaim that they are proud Filipinos, out loud and without shame. Strangers on the street, united by a strong sense of identity and victory, exchange meaningful nods as if to say, “We share this victory as one people.”
By the time you read this, that feeling may have already subsided. Life has moved on. We are each our own island again, only to become Filipinos when one of us makes us feel like it, and it’s frustrating.
#PinoyPride seems to be a fleeting mood, rather than a guiding value. More precisely, #PinoyPride appears to be a title we appropriate to our champions the likes of Pacquiao the boxer and our beauty queens. It’s something we look up to on other people, and not one we live by ourselves. We are only proud to be Pinoy whenever it’s convenient.
To be fair, in the current landscape, there’s no abundance of reasons to feel optimistic about the country and its people either. Watch the news, go online or look out the window even for a couple of minutes for reference.
Here’s to hoping that one day, #PinoyPride means nationalism and not idolism. Here’s to hoping that one day, #PinoyPride refers not only to Filipinos who won a belt or a crown, but to an honest government, fluid road networks, or even natural treasures well taken care of. Here’s to hoping Pinoys feel pride in being Pinoys just because.
Image credits: Nonie Reyes