LADY PAISLEY: August 2009

MALAYA TAYONG LAHAT

The assasination of Benigno “Ninoy” Aquino, Jr., which lead to Corazon “Cory” Aquino’s term as the first female president of the Philippines following Ferdinand Marcos’ 20-year regime marked the beginning of my family’s journey into the United States of America as long term visitors. My father and mother’s decision to leave the country was prompted after much political unrest. The corrupt system of government and threats toward the family were not a part of their idea of a healthy environment for us. My family left Manila on April 8, 1984 en route to New York and finally settled in Southern California where we would begin a new life. Cory’s recent death followed my being granted citizenship in the United States on July 15, 2009, after 25 long years. Those years consisted of numerous trips to and from the immigration offices in East LA and most recently, the friendlier USCIS offices in Honolulu. I recall dragging my feet down to the INS office early in the morning with my mother and often cried the night before my scheduled appointments, remembering how displaced and degraded I felt. Immigrants were often rudely treated, sometimes by fellow Filipinos working as officers. Unaffected by the environment surrounding us, the only thing my mother’s eyes were fixed on was getting me through the two hour lines to the front.

I remember large yellow ribbons around the trees in my neighborhood when Ninoy was coming home from the east coast. Mr. Marcos (as Ninoy referred to him) was the president turned dictator, who’s presidency took place between 1965-1986. Marcos gave Ninoy Aquino political exile in the United States. Ninoy gave his life for Filipino sovereignty from the tyranny of Marcos and his oppressive rule. After the three years of political exile in the United States, which followed the imprisonment and a delayed death sentence, Marcos allowed him to return to the Philippines, only to be gunned down shortly after his plane landed on Philippine soil. Ninoy wore all white the day he returned to his beloved country and believed that death would be his potential fate. He died at M.I.A (Manila International Airport), now named Ninoy Aquino International Airport. The look on his face as he was asked to stand up just moments before his death, and the twenty-five gunshots that were fired as he approached his death on the airport tarmac, which the television stations looped over and over, have remained vivid in my memory to this day.

During that time, my middle sister, Jocelyn who was 12 years old, would insist on participating in the political demonstrations. One night, she managed to take the car without permission to attend a rally. Upon her return, our parents were furious that she would take part in a potentially dangerous situation by herself. On another occasion, I also managed to attend one of the demonstrations with my older siblings along with our driver, at the age of 7. We came home with black smoke in our nostrils that night from the tires that were being burned in he streets. Recently, I asked her why she had such a strong, unyielding will to participate in the rallies at that time. She said, “I felt we really needed a change.” Martial law had been in effect between 1972-1981 and the fight against his military regime had been long overdue. Filipinos were ready for change and even the younger generation felt it. Our family wore yellow “Laban” (fight for freedom) t-shirts, waived our “L” sign and wore yellow pins to school after his death. Through the demonstrations, Filipinos were able to voice their rebellion against the dictatorship of Marcos and his regime who was implicated with plotting the assasination of Ninoy, his primary political opponent, for fear that he would lose his presidency.

These last memories of my country of birth have left an impression that would set my heart towards the journey of perpetuating the fight for justice my elders have given their life to. Two years after our departure, Cory was elected the 1st female president of the Philippines in 1986. The next time I woke up and found smoke in my nostrils, was in Los Angeles in March of 1992, several years later. It was day after the incident where four white men beat Rodney King, which I watched live on television one afternoon after school. I remember feeling so crushed that human beings could be so cruel to one another and essentially full of hate towards themselves. I became saddened by the human need to feel superior over others, in this case, resulting in numerous displays of police brutality and other race-related hate crimes. My family lived off of Crenshaw Blvd. in Gardena, California, mere cities away from the scene of the event. The result of the mayhem lead to the burning and looting of their own neighborhood businesses. Extreme tension between Blacks and Koreans escalated, which ultimately included all Asians that resembled Koreans. At this point, my parents’ quest for a better environment for our family again became their number one priority.

Ninoy and Cory Aquino, two very important figures in history are the audacious heroes who devoted their lives to fighting for the emancipation of Filipino people. In the spirit of their allegiance to our freedom, their story shall echo as a song of hope and perseverance for all people. Through their works, we are all triumphant. May we all find freedom! Malaya tayong lahat! Mabuhay!

Nagmamahal ninyong kababayan,

Jennifer Malaya Ong-Cua

“Lady Paisley”

dragonfruitladypaisley@gmail.com

www.myspace.com/dragonfruitladypaisley

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