I DON’T believe in Independence Day.
Never ever as a Filipino have I felt that we have been completely free from Western influence, from colonial mentality.
From the abuses of our own corrupt officials who exploit us in the name of democracy.
Or even from our short-sighted ideals of what it means to be Filipino.
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The Philippines will always be dependent on other countries.
Whether we are talking of multinational corporations that employ our resources, or of foreigners in their homeland exploiting the talents and services of our “bagong bayani”, the OFWs.
The Philippines will always be dependent on the World Bank and foreign investors to help run the economy of our country.
And we will always be subservient to their demands as long as we have trillion dollars of debt to pay.
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Philippine Independence Day has long lost its meaning for me.
And so, every June 12, I celebrate my own Independence by doing what I feel is right.
I remember that I was in the US back in 1999.
I just won the Centennial Literary Prize in 1998.
With a published cash award of half a million pesos, I was able to get a tourist visa.
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Once in California, I was connected to a job as a caregiver to an nonagenarian.
I worked with the old woman at a retirement hotel in Westwood from January 1 until she died of natural causes on June 12, 1999.
That was my first meaningful Philippine Independence Day.
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The job with the old woman was easy.
I got paid a hundred dollars a day for a 24-hour work day even if I spent more than half of that time sleeping.
I mean, the old woman sleeps, I sleep.
Who cares if I sleep on the couch three feet away from her bed?
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Still, to be cooped up like that in a hotel suite can be boring.
I did a lot of reading while at work.
And a lot of watching rented videos.
(Hollywood Blockbuster Videos was still in existence then.)
And writing.
I wrote several screenplays, several romance novels, several poetry collections.
Most of these writings never really took off.
But they were hopeful.
I mean, they came on the heels of me winning my first Palanca, and the Centennial Literary Prize.
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The other more meaningful Independence Day for me was June 12, 2014.
That’s when I published my manifesto called “The Hiligaynon for the New Millennium and the Globally Aware Generation” online.
It became, of course, the progenitor of the Hiligaynon Revolution of 2014.
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America celebrates her Independence Day on the Fourth of July.
Because I was not born an American, I have no identification with the celebration.
I just enjoy the fireworks, the televised concerts from Washington DC, and the barbecues.
Still, on the first American Independence Day after my husband died, I declared again my independence by becoming the poster boy for HIV testing. That was on July 4, 2015.
I’m still advocating for routine and regular HIV testing.
And I’m still HIV negative.
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When I was 40, American Independence Day 2009, I also went the trouble of contacting a woman on Facebook.
As far as I’m concerned, I do not owe this woman anything.
Sure, I flirted with her boyfriend or ex-live in partner.
(I think they’re finally married now.)
But he was flirting with me, too.
And I did not know that they were in a messy on-off-on-off relationship.
The guy was telling me that he’s not engaged.
The woman was telling me she’s not with him anymore, but some of his stuff are still in her house.
Whatever.
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It’s more complicated than that.
I really think they were broken up when I met him.
And I didn’t even know who he was until four months of texting and flirting.
And I didn’t know they had an affair until six or seven months of texting with him.
And for sure, I do not know if they were just playing me.
But I had great fun f*cking them.
F*cking them up, if that’s the phrase you’d prefer.
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Our biggest love triangle story involved some lawyers.
They consulted some lawyers. I didn’t. Haha.
The verdict: Peter Solis Nery is as innocent as Jesus Christ! Haha.
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Anyway, flash forward to nine years later.
I’m in Los Angeles.
Married for almost two years already.
In the loving and secure arms of my husband.
As we watched the fireworks of July, I got inspired.
I wanted to forgive the woman, and give myself another Independence Day.
And that’s just what I did.
I looked for her on Facebook.
Messaged her, and then we called each other after a few days.
We were good and at peace that she even suggested hotels to stay when my husband and I visited the Philippines that year.
***
So yeah, make Independence Day a celebration of your own independence from whatever demons are possessing you.
What’s good for me should be good for you, too!/PN
