Diwatta

Reading Barbara Jane Reyes' Diwata as a first generation Filipino woman was quite the experience for me. I have never visited any of my homelands and certainly don't know as much as I should know about all of their histories, culture, or people. Though crafted in a less explicit way than any history book could ever explain to me Diwata shed new light on things I did know about this inherited portion of me.

Reyes integrates allusions to the Bible with very strong images and ideas about Filipino folklore that tell unspoken stories of the islands' colonization and the repercussions and evils that followed after, all while highlighting a powerful dynamic to women that is often completely bypassed for the usual trope of them being the source of all evil.

WOW. That's certainly quite the load to accomplish in a mere 73 pages.

As we're introduced to the work with "A Genesis of We, Cleaved" we are already given a taste of the strong ties to Catholicism that is usually customary throughout Filipino culture. The story of the birth of man and woman appears to begin the way we most commonly know it, as "man of dust and fire became bone," but as the story progresses, it moves away from the creations of God and transforms into a story of sorrowful separation, which initially created a sense of dependency on the man from his other half (the woman) for me.

Continuing through the book, "Diwata 5." and Diwata 8." had me pause longer than I expected to, due to the shift in its font face from normal to italics. Sometimes I wonder why people change font faces in general - does it actually have an effect or was the writer just trying to make it look different (because I sure as Hell know I sometimes change font faces for the latter reason! haha)? I came to the conclusion that the effect of the italics functions as both a stream of consciousness and a prayer, which, to many people, are often one in the same. I found the same solemn prayer effect in "She Laments Unnumbered Losses" through its lack of punctuation and its overall form. Everything both flows together (since there are breaks or pauses from punctuation) and seems confusing and tight because of the lack of space between the content, which I think is important because most people only pray in in times of great need or trouble, where their focus isn't as clear as it usually is.

One piece that I ABSOLUTELY loved was "Hummingbird Diwata." Personally, I have this weirdo infatuation with the relationship between the sun and moon. I had never seen anything similar to my weirdo fascination actually written down or verbalized, so this piece really stuck with me, especially this section:

Today the sun descends and his aquamarine cloak becomes a field of violets,
a handful of rubies. There are so many sweet flowers to soothe the hurt of
the moon's constant thwarting... and they open themselves like trumpets to show him
their light, their own little moons of nectar. He pierces the fresh moons
when he kisses. From his darting wings, his flitting tongue, poems to carry
upon seawind and saltwind. Today, he promises them a salve of rain.

OKAY, LET'S BACK UP AND LOOK AT HOW THE PROCESS OF DAY TURNING TO NIGHT IS DESCRIBED THROUGH THAT SUNSET, IT'S SO BEAUTIFUL. There's also this idea of an eternal chase, an unrequited love between the sun and moon, which can be heavily romanticized (and obviously has been.... by me, since I admitted that two seconds ago haha). HOWEVER, it is important to note that the sun perceives the moon as a "fickle woman with so many suitors," which I think is a very slight introduction to the ideas discussed later that women are the primary source of all evil. 

One of the more obvious examples of the trope relating to women being the source of evil to me was in "Duyong 2" and "Call It Talisman (If You Must) 1." "Duyong 2" provides an image of a girl, where in the end she (slash "you," since the narrator places you in that uncomfortable position that I love so much) becomes a monster "whose new tail mimics a silver slicing razor." Later, in "Call It Talisman (If You Must) 1." we are openly told that women were called monsters; "Women who tucked shirts between their legs, tongue of knives hands like tilling tools, [who] returned home to nurse [their] babies after washing clean [their] bloodied hands." Reading this was both saddening and powerful, seeing how women were perceived this way after they had to be depended on so heavily and despite these perceptions, they returned to their "normal" lives to assume their "rightful" duties. 

In contrast to women being icky and monstrous, "The Fire, Around Which We All Gather 3." and "Eve Speaks" provide us with the brighter side of the power dynamic women hold. "The Fire, Around Which We All Gather 3."reveals an image of woman as both a wolf and a shark, predatorial creatures, which is interesting when pitted against the image of a man finding and entering her. Where man is most often seen as the predatory and, in turn, his role is reversed to prey. "Eve Speaks" is a powerful piece, which I saw as sort of "Eve's side of the story" to the whole creation story/dependency-on-man-because-you-were-born-from-him-thing based off of these sections:

Were I to touch you, you'd shatter, and crumble 
into jasmin-scented powder. I would gather you beneath my fingernails,
dust my love lines with you. Lover, I would break you. Lover, I will break
you.

and

Let this be the natural law - Lover, I will break you and compose a symphony
with your bones. Of what remains, I shall grind into dust and mix with 
rain. Lover, do not come near, for I see story in your broken parts. Lover,
do not promise, for when you do, I come to loathe words. Lover, do not
speak, for what you say is vapor... Lover, did you not 
know I wrote my own creation story? Did you not know we all do." 

Reading this was so affirming. I'm sure back in the day, an outright expression like this from a woman would warrant her identity as a "shrew," but right fucking on! I thought this was a brilliant way to formulate a response to the quiet, submissive screw-up that Eve(s) are portrayed to be. And the last line of "Aswang" ("Blame me.") further empowers this particular woman figure even more, posing an open challenge, maybe even a threat, to all. 

The language and rich messages of this book are truly magical.