Idolatry

Chasing Happy for Manila Standard Today

First-ever column, 16 Dec 2006

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Why would anyone want to read a stranger?

You’re probably wondering who I am and how I found my way into this page. In truth, though, I’ve been here for a while. Every afternoon, I have the privilege of reading the columns for publication the following day. Three times a week, I write on behalf of the paper, articulating its position on various national issues.

A column, of course, is different. There is a now a name and a picture.

I was jubilant in the beginning—have I not dreamed of this since I was a plump, pimply editor of my high school paper?

Slowly, however, trepidation began to sink in. Now I tremble at the immense responsibility that comes with this privilege of reaching out to thousands of readers of both the printed and online versions of Standard Today.

I’m a simple fellow. I don’t need much introduction. Eventually, my pieces will tell you much of who I am. What can I offer this paper’s readers? An antidote to apathy, I hope, and a breath of fresh air.

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The recently concluded first season of Philippine Idol proved to be more than just a reality search for singers. That its popularity did not quite reach phenomenal proportions was perhaps the best thing that happened to it. It was providential that the carrying network was neither of the two industry giants. Otherwise, the entire nation would have been deluged by the commercialism—a catchy jingle, shirts, caps, fan magazines, voting cards—for which the bigger networks are notorious.

Devoid of these distractions, Idol was able to focus on the very thing it was supposed to showcase: The search for raw talent, and the honing of its finalists to become even better performers.

There was a bonus, too. Week after week, the audience became familiar with the personal journeys of the finalists—at least for the aspects directly related to their singing. In fact, last Sunday’s show was not just the night of the top three contenders. Decision Night became a celebration of the power of music, how one’s passion for it can move one to break stereotypes and overcome odds.

Take Paula Chavez, who showed that dainty, fragile-looking girls with flowing hair did not have a monopoly on angelic voices. Chavez had always sported a boyish haircut and worn coats and pants. Eliminated two weeks before the finals, she had thanked the public for accepting and loving who she was. She sang a duet with Aiza Seguerra on the final night, and the crowd went wild.

A 17-year-old had consistently fared well in the voting in spite of his voice prowess not being “mature enough.” As a result, Miguel Mendoza had drawn flak from the judges, especially the stern-faced Ryan Cayabyab. At one point, Cayabyab had urged the kid to just go home and finish high school. Last Sunday, though, Cayabyab played the piano as Mendoza sang a song he had co-composed with the maestro. The song told of the boy’s struggle in the face of criticism and seeming failure.

Gian Magdangal offered a story of sacrifice. This seasoned performer had had to give up a life in theater—a life he loved—to earn a living for his family. On the other hand, Jan Nieto’s singing ability had evolved from average to near-perfect for the duration of the season. His humility and hard work sent a message, that talent alone was not enough, to aspiring singers.

Of course, the first Idol was neither fair nor slim nor conventionally pretty. Mau Marcelo had been the perennial underdog. Too many times, she had faced threats of elimination. When she did an encore of her winning song, she had to pause for deep breaths to gain composure. The crowd, regardless of shirt color (they had been told to come in the favorite colors of the finalist they were supporting), applauded vigorously, knowing Marcelo deserved her victory.

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Here’s another idol story—a sad one, though. In Hong Kong, a star-crossed Filipina domestic now faces six months in jail after having been proven guilty of stealing pictures of her employer, Chinese pop star Jacky Cheung. Thirty-year-old Preslyn Catacutan admitted to stealing three photographs from the celebrity because—well, she was a fan.

Cheung, however, insisted that the Filipina betrayed his trust. The judge went on to say that Catacutan was interested in Cheung’s personal things because “common sense directed they could be of high value.”

To be sure, Catacutan should not have taken Cheung’s photos without his permission. Stealing is stealing. Still, the judge’s claim that she wanted to cash in on the personal belongings of Cheung is out of bounds. The verdict was harsh— she could have easily been dismissed from the job and flown back to the Philippines. Loss of employment and any further opportunity to work in Hong Kong would have been punishment enough.

That’s a sorry fact we must contend with from time to time. Sometimes, the people we look up to fail us. Big time. They either do things we don’t quite imagine them doing, or fail to do things we expect them to do.

The natural reaction is disenfranchisement. If we’re lucky, we have an epiphany and come to terms with the fact that our frustration was largely upon our own doing. No one asked us to expect the world from our idols—they did not promise to be perfect just so we would put them on a pedestal. We were the ones who blurred the line between their area of expertise and the rest of their person.

We call them many things—idols, role models, mentors, inspiration. The idea is to get as many of them as possible and assimilate the attributes of each into our own system. In the grand scheme of things, each of us was not meant to be just part of a crowd, standing at the sidelines and cheering. Everyone is a work in progress, an idol in the making.