When the Oble Had Wings: UP's 2013 Pride March by Erika Villa-Ignacio

UP Diliman's gay pride march started where our interview did as well - the infamously timeless steps of Palma Hall, which author Elmer Ordonez describes as UP's "center of cultural liberation." Regina "Jill" Raz, a freshman and Speech Communications major, told us that it used to be called AS for it housed classes under the Arts and Sciences, but insisted that we call it Palma Hall if we're more comfortable doing so. "You guys are Ateneans after all," she said, emphasizing that this was just another "UP thing," a relatively unknown cultural tidbit that set the university apart, even as its reputation already does that job. However, not all UP things have to be obscure and recognizably celebrated by iskos and iskas alone, and the gay pride march is one of them. We sat on the steps of Palma, past the throng of students seated in groups on the floor and the guard at the guard post who never actually checks for ID's, as Jill's eyes lit up, beginning her story of an unforgettable event encapsulated by rainbow-colored flags (or rather, rainbow-colored everything), drag queens and kings, a rather minuscule religious (but just as rebellious) civil demonstration and the crowd which made it all possible.

"It was actually part of gay pride week. It's like an awareness week for gay rights. It's spearheaded by UP Babaylan, which is the LGBTQ group of UP," Jill said. I took this opportunity to tell her briefly of Ateneo's own LGBTQ org, Dollhouse, which ensues in her agreement with its name being not only appropriate but fab in its own right, leading to my apologizing after she almost blurted its name out loud instead of Babaylan's. Being used to speaking however, she composed herself right away.

"Sinabi ni Mark, yung nadaanan natin kanina, nag-aaral pa lang yung mommy niya, matanda na yung Babaylan. (Mark, the guy we passed by a while ago, said that while his mom was still studying, Babaylan was already an old organization)," she added, briefly going into a short description of film screenings and other events Babaylan organized, including the gay pride march. "I was actually with a friend when it happened...May dinaanan kami. (We passed by something)" Here, she proceeded to roll her eyes and we immediately knew that this related to a disruption of the event somehow. Truth be told, she confirmed our notions quite colorfully.

"You know yung mga KJ's sa gay pride? (You know the killjoys during gay pride?)," she asked, and we nodded, thinking immediately of the religious who came to demonstrate as well, in protest this time. "Bwiset na bwiset ako! Ok lang magmura diba? (I was really aggravated! It's alright to curse, isn't it?)," she asked tentatively, tilting her head slightly as if in apology. After allowing her to spew a few more choice words, Jill went right back on track.

The usual pieces of signage were in order, well-accounted for in the hands of the few: illustration boards with the words GAY SEX IS A SIN (and several biblical marriage citations exclusively favoring straight couples) emblazoned in bright paint. Hands clasped together in solidarity, these individuals stood their ground as they huddled as one protesting body, constituting of the sheer indomitable number of...six. (Jill laughed as this point, loudly enough for us to smile slightly. From a demonstration such as UP's pride week, we weren't really expecting anything less)/

Eventually, our attention was snapped back toward the very steps we were seated on, as we attempted to picture its entirety adorned in a single rainbow-colored flag, draped "carpet-style," along the walkway as Jill put it. The members of Babaylan were prompt, making their presence known an hour or more before the actual march was to take place. She knew this despite not actually being present during the initial preparations, as she attended her Kasaysayan class a few floors above and heard no other than their raucous cheering from below. When her class ended however, she already knew where to go.

"They put rainbow butterfly wings on Oble! It was the cutest thing!" she exclaimed, referring to the largely circulated photograph of the oblation monument taken from behind, actually dressed this time, in nothing but multicolored butterfly wings. This signaled that preparations were already in place, not only for the march itself, but for the wedding to be taken place at the Metropolitan Church. Citing it as the only LGBTQ-friendly church in the Philippines, Jill told us the march's "opening ceremony" of sorts was held here in the event of a lesbian couple getting married, cheered on not only by their friends and families, but none other than the assembled, hair-sprayed and high-heeled, colorfully-clad participants of the march.

In the midst of all of this however, slowly but surely, it began to rain.

Drenched megaphones were passed from representative to representative - Babaylan reps to Filipino Free-thinkers - giving out speeches with umbrellas nowhere in sight, as they led the crowd around the UP track oval, music blasting through speakers that originated from the crowd or the school itself. The hostility received early was countered by banners saying HATE IS NOT A FAMILY VALUE and costumes worn by so many, from men clad in tank tops and oble butterfly wings to gowns and wigs which made the casual observer have a hard time discerning a Monroe from a Taylor or an Audrey from a Katharine.

"I met a couple and I can't pass this up. These guys were wearing white gowns, naka-wig sila, naka-make-up (wearing wigs and make-up) drag queen galore!" Jill said, and for the first time in the duration of our interview, her voice immediately went softer. "They had signs that [said] 'We have the right to form a family,'" she remarked, smiling slightly, further elaboration unnecessary.

After interviewing her further on UP trends and significant cultural exercises, my group mates left early while I stayed behind to have lunch with her at a restaurant that sold the cheapest and best-tasting tapa I have ever eaten in my life. Soon, I was picked up too as I had homework to accomplish for the following day, and I sped past the curb once again that housed the Oble. Looking out the window, I thought to myself how I wasn't exactly sure if Fernando Poe Sr. was the model or not. Distractedly, I pictured his arms spread-eagled, chin tilted up towards the sky, plastic butterfly wings adorned across his broad shoulders.