(click on image to enlarge)
Alex Tizon's article, "My Family Slave" as regards Eudocia Tomas Pulido, in The Atlantic (June 2017) quickly became viral upon its online release earlier this month. It reverberated widely because the story is not just about the Tizon Family but also about, among others, colonialism, imperialism, poverty, immigration, slavery, trafficking, servitude culture, the master-slave dynamic, family, patriarchy, victimization, redemption, and love. Galatea Resurrects presents poetic responses by the following poets below; click on links to their names to read their poems, most of which were written after the article's release. Also featured are links to previously-published poems which speak to the long-standing existence of many other "Lola Pulidos" and their contexts.
After the poems are links to articles that explore the elements and various significances of Mr. Tizon's article which presents how his family had been served by Ms. Pulido ... and vice versa.
Eileen Tabios
Editor, Galatea Resurrects
**
POETRY
Jonel Abellanosa: "The Horror Neighborhood"
Jim Pascual Agustin: "Grandmother, Slave?"
Kimberly Alidio: "SPECTACULAR INDWELLING"
Michelle Bautista: "Lola on the cover of The Atlantic"
Aileen Cassinetto "The Woman Next Door" and "In the Island of Good Boots"
Melinda Luisa de Jesús: "Alternative Endings for Ms. Eudocia Pulido" and "Eudocia Dreams"
Elaine Dolalas: "5.17.2017"
Rose Linda Gonzales: "Mirror-ed"
Maileen Hamto: "56"
Luisa A. Igloria: "Help"
Sean Labrador Y Manzano: "Dugo"
Agnes Marton: "Have You Ever Slapped Someone Transparent?"
D Hideo Maruyama: "No one and everyone is a slave owner" and "Who profited from slavery's past?"
Amy Ray Pabalan: "What is Real"
Aloysiusi Lionel Polintan: "Reverse Longing" and "In Fetal Position"
Barbara Jane Reyes: "The Gospel of Juana de la Cruz"
Tony Robles: "Salamat" and "Stirred"
Irene Suico Soriano: "Lorena Eudocia"
Leny Mendoza Strobel: "Dear Eudocia,"
Eileen R. Tabios : "Witnessed in the Convex Mirror: Avatar" and "Witnessed in the Convex Mirror: Integrity"
Jean Vengua: "Other Worlds"
Alfred A. Yuson: "Andy Warhol Speaks To His Two Filipino Maids"
Related Poetry Elsewhere in the Internet:
I was told: it happens in more
instances than you could know,
to more people than you
can imagine
Luisa A. Igloria: “They
Say Filipina Is Another Name For Maid," Philippine Free
Press, Nov. 21, 1998
…Their hands
the size of their sleeping
quarters.
In the modern Greek dictionary, the word ‘Filipineza’ means ‘maid’.”
I let go of one end of the rope to swat the
fly. It betrayed me and became a whip that lifted a vase off the table before
smashing it onto the floor newly-burnished with halved coconut husks. And I
heard my parents hailing, Hal-looo...
Maria, the youngest maid, hearing the shattering crystal, had arrived in the
dining room mere seconds before my parents. I can still hear the kitchen door
squeaking as my mother dragged Maria by her left ear to banish her from the
house. It was not the first time Maria took blame for one of my actions; but it
was the last time and I remember my eyes were wide but dry as they watched
Maria walk out of the door lugging a torn, plastic suitcase.
Eileen R. Tabios: “LETTERS
FROM THE BALIKBAYAN BOX," Post Bling Bling (Moria Books,
Chicago, 2005)
"When i went to the Philippines 2 yrs ago, we brought 2 big
boxes so we could distribute 'gifts' to all kinds of relatives/neighbors. Nail
polish: Loreal (for the closer aunties) and Maybelline and Wet n Wild for the
'maids' -- terrible that we gave them so called 'cheaper brands' but there are
just so many: gardeners, drivers, lady who irons clothes, lady who washes
clothes..."
**
LINKS
In Response to Alex Tizon’s article,
“My Family Slave,” as regards Eudora Tomas Pulido, The Atlantic, June 2017
The article written by Alex Tizon regarding the story of
Eudocia Pulido and her forced migration and exploitation as a modern day slave
in the United States highlights the current conditions of Filipino women.
Eudocia Pulido’s story cannot be understood outside of the context of the
Philippine society and history rooted in U.S. imperialism and neoliberal economic
policies that have caused the systemic suffering of many underpaid domestic
helpers like Lola.
The Philippines is one of the largest labor exporters in the
world with 6,000 Filipinos—60% women—leaving the country every single day to
work, because of rampant poverty, joblessness, and landlessness.
“She remains singular, even in death. Especially in death,
as the author is taken aback by the grief that her return elicits among her
relatives. That collective grief exposes his own limits, the lie underneath his
philanthropy, the impossibility of reparation. His guilt, if that’s how you
want to think about it does little to shore up his authority as the author of
this text, or as the benevolent master who did right by his slave.”
“Lola's Resistant Dignity” (revised version of above) by Vicente Rafael, The Atlantic, May 31, 2017
She remains singular, even in death—especially in death, as the author is taken aback by the grief that her return elicits among her relatives. That collective grief surprises Tizon and exposes the limits of his own understanding of Eudocia’s life. His guilt does little to shore up his authority as the benevolent master who did right by his slave.
Tizon’s essay can be read not simply as an attempt to confess a crime and expatiate his family’s guilt. It is also a testimony to the slave’s ability to deflect the master’s appropriative power. It is as much about Tizon’s shameful secret as it is about Pulido’s resistant dignity.
It’s good to normalize evil, in the
sense of showing how otherwise “normal” people and institutions can perpetrate
evil acts, and every attempt should be made to do so. That’s how you prevent
more evil from happening in the future.
There are many more Eudocias in the U.S. who are still
suffering silently at the hands of their trafficker abusers, and their stories
are hardly ever known. Damayan (“helping each other” in Filipino) has worked
with survivors who were trafficked by diplomats, ambassadors, and consular
officers (like Francisco Tizon), as well as by wealthy businesspeople, schools,
churches, and placement agencies from all around the world. Most Filipino labor
trafficking survivors come to the U.S. through different visa programs, and
domestic workers for diplomats come through the A3 and G5 visas. Filipinos are
one of the most common sources of domestic workers in the homes of diplomats
from countries such as Germany, Peru, Japan, Tunisia, Morocco, Saudi Arabia,
Dubai, Turkey, and the Philippines.
I once referred a Filipina American - who was
having cash-flow problems - to house cleaning work for another friend. After a
week, she quit. The pay was good, the employer was fine, but she "couldn't
stand the power dynamics".
One had to be groomed - by culture, by
tradition, by authority - into servitude.
The worst aspect of the dehumanization of slavery is when
it's based not on race, but class. Anyone is susceptible if they're poor.
… we are no longer talking about
sixteenth-century or even nineteenth-century slavery. The national liberation
struggles, the abolitionist and Civil Rights movements, the workers’ movements,
the feminist and other social and political movements from all over the world
since then have helped create a world where what happened to Lola Eudocia and
the oppression of so many other people all over the world can no longer be
condoned, and what is needed is not just understanding and individual
initiatives to redress the situation–laudable as Alex Tizon’s efforts to make
amends to Lola Eudocia had been–but larger systemic and structural changes such
as better enforcement of laws and regulations and better protection of the vulnerable
and the poor.
What exactly are the “politics” and
“economics” of the utusan question and why is the utusan system so pernicous
and long-lasting, despite the progress in our political and social values?
"This is because abject servitude and
warped loyalty to benefactors is still a part of our societal mindset. These
are repellent and reprehensible attitudes that we must do away with, if we are
to aspire to the highest standards of human rights and values."
There’s a cultural context to Lola’s enslavement that
non-Filipinos can never understand.
I was my yaya's baby, and as an adult I now
understand that my love for her was built on the rock of consistency, which was
in turn at the expense of her social mobility. Had she been offered another
viable opportunity other than mothering me and my siblings, she would have
left. I would not be the person I am today if she left me. I realize that I am
both indebted to her for her love, but I also benefited from her being trapped
to serve me.
“Not moved” by Andrea Malaya M. Ragragio, Davao
Today, May 22, 2017
…the US colonial regime actually actively reinforced such
exploitative arrangements. Land laws promulgated by the Americans brought no
relief and reform but simply consolidated the land ownership of a few rich
families. The supposedly democratic legislature set up by the Americans was a
landlord-dominated old boys’ club. Peasant revolts were brutally crushed.
Aristocratic family values that demanded unquestioning fealty from their
vassals were sustained precisely because the same aristocratic families were
themselves sustained by the US to be their ruling puppets.
Tizon’s realization of his Lola Eudocia’s slave status then
becomes laced with supreme irony. He writes that he had this realization only
in contrast to the lifestyle of his American neighbors, and his account shows
that he and his family were conscious of this. They were freedom-loving
Americans if not for Lola, their slave. They were a poster family for the
American dream if not for Lola, their slave. These were framed as points of
incompatibility. But the Filipino historical experience (and perhaps the
histories of other people of color) will show that they both went hand-in-hand.
We are inhuman and human; we have the capacity
to be oppressor and sub-oppressor. The truth is that we have come to believe
their white supremacy. We have come to believe that if we bleached our skins as
white as snow, if we jet-set across the globe with our pals like Imelda Marcos,
if we have household “help” keep our homes and cars and second homes impeccably
clean, then thus, we must be superior, must be anointed by God, must be
blessed by divinity because of the materialistic things we own (does this not
sound familiar? Never mind Jesus said it is easier for a camel to walk through
an eye of a needle than it is for a rich man to go to heaven). We admire and
love the colonizer, though they poison and kill and rape and ravage our land
and our people. Therein lies the difference: the systems of modern-day slavery
repeats and lives because Filipinos have come to believe they are superior,
especially when it comes to their own.
As a writer, I will say that we back away from writing
because it is hard. Stories like this must be told. In my world, Eudocia Tomas
Pulido would be able to tell her own story. But also in my world, we come to
resent writers for not doing what we expect them to do, make the difficult
understandable. We come to resent writers, not knowing exactly how difficult it
is to do this. Some writers stop trying; the anticipated backlash already being
a deterrent to even getting started. And then some writers try their best.
I believe Tizon tried. Did he fail? If his reason for
writing this story was to humanize Eudocia Tomas Pulido, maybe he failed. In my
world, Eudocia Tomas Pulido would be able to tell her own story as a human
being with a voice.
But as writers, should we then not attempt to write these
stories?
In the piece, Tizon does examine his guilt in Pulido’s
enslavement and asks rhetorically whether he could have done better by her: “I
could have turned in my parents, I suppose.” But many others picked up on the
conciliatory tone of the article’s final sentence, its kicker: “Everybody
started filing into the kitchen, puffy-eyed but suddenly lighter and ready to
tell stories. I glanced at the empty tote bag on the bench, and knew it was
right to bring Lola back to the place where she’d been born.”
This is the tendency toward simplification, toward
resolution, that storytelling often seems to demand. As writers we feel a
desire to end on a beat: upbeat or downbeat, a kicker either way. There’s an
urge to simplify, to deal in dichotomies: Filipino versus American, devotion
versus exploitation. The truth with which Tizon wrestled in this story is much
messier. Pulido was his Lola, and she was also an enslaved woman named Eudocia.
She was his slave and his parent. He loved her and exploited her. They were
Filipino and American, and heir to both difficult heritages of slavery. All
these things are true at once, and they cannot be collapsed into a tidy
epigram. No amount of beautiful writing can disguise this.
…in America, we are told that slavery is over. Tizon tried
to tell us it is not, but he also showed us, inadvertently, how deftly it
moves to sustain and exonerate itself.
This is something we need to recognize in order to clear
space for Eudocia’s story—and the many others like her who go unnamed.
In Tizon’s written account, Ms. Pulido wasn’t
“asked” to care for his mother. She was “given” to her. And everything that
happened to Ms. Pulido from that day forward is tied to that act of inhumanity.
A big factor is also that she didn't send them money. In
that way, she wasn't felt.
As bad as it sounds to make it seem that someone is only
good for their money, when you can't have deep personal relations – especially
before, when there was no internet yet – what you send home is the next best
thing.
Your presence is made felt by the money sent door-to-door,
or the balikbayan boxes (care packages) that you await eagerly for a
whole week, back when there was no way to track a package. Your presence was
felt by the contents of that care package: the imported soaps, lotions, canned
goods, and the new clothes which served the double purpose of wrapping fragile
items like shot glasses and mirrors.
Alex’s essay […] does not try to highlight their earlier
attempts to help Eudocia Pulido. “I can only speculate that what he really
wanted to draw out was the atrocity,” Albert [Alex’s younger brother] said.
… And because Alex found the courage and strength tell that
story, a spirited, meaningful, if sometimes nasty, conversation on slavery and
class in Filipino society has begun.
Eudocia, or "Cosiang" to her relatives in
Mayantoc, Tarlac, had prepared for her most-awaited and most deserved
homecoming, according to her niece 68-year-old Lolita "Ebia"
Pulido-Gabertan.
"Impatpatulod na agijay dadduma nga paglutwan tapno
nu agawid den, adda paglutwan na, inin-inot nga impatpatulod," Ebia
said in Ilocano. (She sent her baking tools one by one so that when she comes
home, she can use them to cook.)
…
After 68 years of labor in America, 56 of which were unpaid,
Cosiang was contented to settle in her relatives' simple home in Barangay
Carabaoan where she wished to revive the old sari-sari store and sell her
specialty, puto, or steamed rice cake.