The Pinay provincial lass, re-defined

In the previous age of Nora Aunor, the provincial lass became defined with the rags-to-richest story: the one who is talented (ala the Superstar) or is beautiful (ala Venus Raj), necessarily poor, and always with a big dream that's fulfilled when she is discovered, brought to, and changed by Manila. But the notion(s) of the provincial lass is replete with other meanings. Our colonial and feudal histories define this provincial lass as she whose body is offered up to the feudal lord or colonial master as a matter of financial mobility. Then there is the provincial lass of recent years, the one who represents a different social class altogether -- not always moneyed, but not at all in need. When we speak of this provincial lass and her class, we also mean her grace, given her traditional Pinoy mahinhin ways, and her di makabasag pinggan manners. She is unfazed by the big city, and even more important, she isn't changed by it. Her credibility as a personality is borne of this stature, figuratively and literally: after all, this provincial lass stands as if she is royalty, in this society where princesses don't exist the way they do in England. Here, in the third world, we would just say: parang manika ano? Parang Barbie Doll. On television they are affectionately called Miss Lucy and Ate Shalani. Loving Lucy We know of Lucy Torres-Gomez's story of course, she who was in a shampoo commercial, but became famous as she entered a relationship with Richard Gomez. Lucy is the provincial lass who ended up marrying the most eligible -- and good-looking -- bachelor of his time. Richard was one hunk of a male icon when he got married in 1998, the one who gave the tall, dark and handsome tag a good name, if not a better one. He was, unlike many actors of his generation, constantly redefining himself: from his discovery as a fast-food restaurant crew member, to becoming the more famous Palibhasa Lalaki; from being supermodel to award-winning actor; from commercial model to athlete. That TV commercial of Richard rowing across a river wearing nothing but briefs, isn't just an iconic local TV moment, it's also now a classic. This guy single-handedly made lifestyle store Bench a household name, and might have begun the industry of celebrity endorsements in this country. Richard after all, was a credible showbiz personality. He never denied relationships, yet also never kissed and told. There was an intelligence to Richard that allowed him to be irreverent Pinoy macho when needed. Then, as one of my college teachers put it, he married Snow White.

Lucy did, by all counts, seem like a fairytale. She looked like it for one: tall and white-skinned, long black hair, delicate in her movements. She also spoke with a low soft voice, that didn't seem to know to scream, wouldn't know to guffaw in laughter. She dressed conservatively, and seemed like the perfect contrast to Richard's moreno good looks and Pinoy macho ways. Lucy's context explains her behavior: she comes from an affluent family in Ormoc City Leyte, and is an hacendera. That would be reason for disgust, except that Lucy was so unlike the more famous haciendera de Luisita. Lucy wasn't matapobre in any way, and it was clear that none of it was a put-on. Lucy was exercising a simplicity and decency that her alta sociedad upbringing taught her, yet seemed to refuse its hoity-toity ways. She was giving us a new version of the heiress, and we did -- we had to -- thank heaven for that. It helped that Lucy had an obvious disinterest in showbiz, and as such she had nothing to lose by being herself. Of course she'd end up in her own version of showbiz anyway, but first, she gets married to Richard, in huge celebrations in Ormoc and Manila, where money while of no object wasn't flaunted. Soon enough Lucy was pregnant; soon after she became a mother, she became Lucy Torres-Gomez, the individual. That is, someone who's separate from her more famous husband, someone who insists she never thought of showbiz, yet seems to have rolled with showbiz punches. Lucy would begin her TV hosting career in the genre of the lifestyle talk show, talking mostly about motherhood and family. But it was as dance show host that she seemed more comfortable in her own skin, as she showed a little more of it. Ballroom dancing requires particularly revealing costumes, and while Lucy wasn't one to show too much, she was also clearly not going to keep wearing her long-sleeved polos and jeans for such a show. So she ended up showing the world how to dance in sexy clothes without selling one's body. She ended up showing us that sexy ain't about how little one wears, it's about how one ultimately feels in an outfit, any outfit at all. Because Lucy looked like she was finally in her element; dancing was obviously her thing. She carried over this confidence to her more recent lifestyle talk show The Sweet Life on QTV. Hosting with chatterbox Wilma Doesnt, her opposite in looks and demeanor, Lucy held her own. She'd talk about her habits as wife and mother, without making it seem like a truth we must all live by. Half the time she would be self-deprecating, always mentioning the possibility that she isn't what we all think, that she has her bad days, too. Lucy also never talks about how much her clothes or shoes cost, never mentions the cost of expensive luxury vacations, if she talks about those at all. Her simplicity, we realize, isn't just about her upbringing. It's also about what she finds more valuable, what she sees as happy things. So instead of talking about her designer acquisitions and showing them on TV, Lucy teaches women how to make their own home decor, how to put together a scrap book, how to make a beach top with a scarf. Instead of writing about her life of luxury, her regular column in a broadsheet is a treasure trove of lessons learned in the midst of loss and difficulty, and cheap tricks to being pretty. We realize that Lucy's simplicity isn't just about upbringing, but also about her sense of what's appropriate and just. It would be infinitely easier for her to be changed, and begin to create an image of wealth and decadence. Yet it seems to be Lucy's conscious choice not to be changed, and to remain unfazed by the lifestyle that showbiz creates. Maybe because she also knows it to be unjust: she grew up in the context of an hacienda, played with the children of their kasama, and knows of hunger and poverty, even if she hasn't gone through it. In which case, Lucy's simplicity and sense of justice have got to be borne of some innate compassion, one that is infinite and limitless and absolute. And so while her husband Richard has done many things, Lucy seems to have done one important thing: she has recreated this stereotype of the provincial lass as heiress, into one that is powerful because she is level-headed and self-reflexive, refusing to sell her life as a fairy tale we must aspire for, well-entrenched in the injustices of her context. We've seen how Lucy banters with Wilma, laughs out loud, appreciates things that are different from what she knows and has. Lucy proves that how rich you are, or how well-schooled, isn't all that it takes. It's how compassionate you are, even when that seems a cliché. Maybe how intelligently you feel for the world. This might also be ultimately why we can barely criticize Lucy, even when she ran and won as congresswoman of her district in Ormoc. She seems beyond criticism, beyond petty rumors, beyond any form of malice. Maybe that's also because when rumors of her as kleptomaniac surfaced so many years ago, she dared -- dared! -- anyone with surveillance footage to show her stealing. And no one came forward with it. So sometimes she will stand her ground; many other times, she's just unfazed. What we're left with is Lucy as her prim and proper self, who's brave but gentle, daring but discreet, and always with a kind smile. The heiress lives! And she does so with a whole lot of decency, thank goodness. Shalani Shines We knew of Shalani Soledad's stereotype before she even came into our lives, yes? Yet, Shalani isn't exactly like Lucy, though she's also mestiza and statuesque, soft-spoken and graceful. Similarities do end there. Shalani redefines the provincial lass and creates a new version that's of herself: middle-class, public servant. We came to know her as the girlfriend of Sen. Noynoy Aquino, then recently as the a TV host on -- and the heart of -- ABC 5. Yet Shalani seems to be more than just these labels, maybe because she seems more intelligent than most, maybe because she's got a history all her own, one that she's come out with recently. Shalani's story is filled with stuff soap operas are made of. She grew up in Valenzuela, within a close-knit family that made up for the absence of her mother who was working overseas. Shalani didn't know her father, but knew of him, in the classic story of badly broken marriages that mean sacrificing parental relationships. Shalani defines herself as middle class, and in a Paolo Bediones interview (Uzi, ABC 5, 18 April 2010) describes this to mean growing up playing patintero; she is not of the rich and cloistered, Shalani seems to say. She also isn't of the political dynasties that riddle our provincial politics: she had won two elections for councilor before she was pushed into the spotlight by her last relationship. In the same interview she mentions ditching plans to run for the post of congresswoman as a matter of focusing on her boyfriend's presidential campaign. This she actually did, and PNoy's sisters could only articulate their gratitude soon after this campaign won for Noynoy the presidency. In Shalani's Valenzuela, PNoy won by a landslide; Shalani won the same post for the third time. Of course now we speak of the Shalani-Noynoy relationship in retrospect, over as it is. And for most of it, during the wake for Cory, during the campaign, after Noynoy became PNoy, we barely heard her speak, soundbites were kept to a minimum. But we'd see her doing what needed to be done, standing beside her boyfriend for events and campaign sorties, shaking hands with people, doing motorcades with the sisters. A few times she spoke against the black propaganda hurled at her boyfriend. She seemed to not want the attention, but knew that media mileage was what would win elections. Shalani spoke little, barely looked at cameras, but this only added to the mystery, really, because the silence is also so rare for us who are tuned in to our TVs. And then, the moment the label Presidential Girlfriend was finally true, Shalani went ahead and had an interview with the noisiest of presidential sisters, no less. In that moment she looked like the perfect counterpoint to the more famous almost sister-in-law: Shalani barely had make-up, had her unstyled hair down, had no jewelry save for yellow ballers and a watch, and a pair of nondescript earrings. She spoke of meeting her boyfriend, and the more obvious travails of their high profile relationship, but seemed careful about sharing too much. Her responses were measured, her tone consistent. It seemed second nature to her to respond only to questions, refusing to reveal that which isn't required, speaking of what's private in general terms. Which also seems to still be what operates now, even as Shalani gave an exclusive interview to Yes! Magazine (January 2011). Even when she has become an image on primetime TV every day, and has gathered her own set of supporters. Shalani still isn't the girl whose life is feed and fodder for tsismis shows, she still isn't that woman who's out to air her dirty -- and clean -- laundry in public, she still isn't the woman who's out to gain fame or fortune for herself. In the Yes! Interview, what becomes obvious is that Shalani's consistent: she will still only reveal too much about herself, will signal to her mother and manager to stop saying too much. This sense of privacy seems to contradict her decision to do a daily primetime game show, which really is showbiz enough in our shores. No one is just a host of a TV show -- anyone on TV is fodder for all things showbiz. And in which case, Shalani is handling it well, if not better than most. She hasn't changed the way she looks for one, yet isn't at all boring as far as image is concerned. In fact her look is a lesson in creative conservatism, one that we haven't seen in a while. Case in point: Shalani's outfits. It would be easy to keep it conservative, if boring were acceptable. Ah, but her clothes aren't boring at all, in fact it's always reason to check out her primetime show. Skirt length is kept above the knee, almost always pencil cut. Shoulders are covered, the sleeveless top and cap sleeves as standard. Once she looked like she was wearing a strapless dress; instead it was a well-designed outfit with sheer neck and shoulders, only noticeable because of certain arm movements. Every dress seems to have been sewn on her, skimming her body without being too tight, showing off curves without making it seem like that is the point. Shoes are always conservative, in classic colors; accessories and jewelry kept small and discreet. Shalani's hair is never in some style that actually looks like it's styled. Truth to tell, she always looks put together, as expected; she also always looks like herself. That is, Shalani looks like the provincial lass that she is. The public image created of her is an interesting kind of conservatism we rarely see, and this just might be why she's worth watching on TV. This of course isn't just about what she wears. It's also about the fact that no matter how wide her smile is, and how crazy things are on the show -- confetti falling, loud music, people screaming, skimpily clad dancers gyrating -- Shalani looks unaffected. She sounds it too: her voice is always in a low monotone, the kind that doesn't seem to know how to scream, though it can curl up to enjoin contestants to start: “putukan na!" She's talking about balloons of course. She's been talking a lot on the show too, and has visibly improved: willing to kid with the dancers cum prize presenters, reading the greetings on the show's Facebook wall with gusto, doing banter with Willie Revillame -- sometimes even winning in the exchange. Always, she is teased about love; always, she is able to shrug it off with a one-liner about not wanting to be hurt again. Necessarily she has gotten a new label as The First Lady of Primetime, obviously a jab at the position she almost but never had. I personally think it's a marvelous hosting job she's doing, precisely because it's not one that we're used to. After all, we're in game and variety show country where female hosts are squealing their spiels; after all, we are in TV culture country where women look the same -- wearing the same things, sporting the same hair, practically standardized according to their function. Shalani, by being herself and refusing to compromise, has created refreshing TV. In the Christmas special of Willing Willie, I caught her doing a segment where she was walking the metro looking for people who live on the streets, to give them some food and blankets, but also the shock of their lives. What struck me about this footage was the fact that it was obviously not choreographed or set up in any way. Shalani was waking up people sleeping in makeshift quarters, cartons against a wall, a kariton covered with tarps. Many of the people she talked to looked curiously at her, not really recognizing her, obviously not people who have TVs. What struck me even more was the way Shalani did this activity, with kindness that wasn't at all about herself. She refused to wake up children who were fast asleep, and instead put a blanket on them; she had conversations with people without talking about herself, nor did she force people to speak and thank her and the show. Instead she seemed to just be sincerely greeting people a Merry Christmas. She wasn't out to save the world that night, and she didn't pretend to. Instead, Shalani looked like herself, doing something that was second nature to her. She didn't need a camera on her at all. And this is ultimately what's interesting about Shalani, and why I do, without thinking, switch on to Willing Willie in the midst of the primetime soaps I watch. It's because she seems to be herself, through and through. No matter that it means slowly walking across the stage, or sometimes not being quick enough in responding to Willie's teasing, or still hosting with mostly a monotone. Sometimes, and this is happening more often than not, she surprises. Be it with her outfits (which are worth watching, I tell you), or with spurts of candor, even with the way she deals with the contestants with a hand reached out, a smile that's all too sincere, too often forgetting that there's a camera. Right there, the provincial lass lives. And she might be earning more than she ever has, but truth to tell, one hopes that Shalani will never sell whitening soap or beauty clinics. That would ruin the natural self that has enamored this nation. That would be ultimately be, un-Shalani. The Powers of the Pinay Provincial Words like mahinhin and malumanay aren't ones we use to describe Pinays anymore, and rightfully so given all their Pinoy macho connotations, given the box it does put too many Pinays in. And yet. In the face of female hosts who scream just in case there's an audience on the moon, in the midst of women who sell fake impossible beauty, in the midst of the more famous Pinay celebrities all selling whitening soaps and beauty clinics, I must say the all-natural unchanging probinsyana is more than welcome. That this probinsyana may be haciendera or middle class, commercial model or provincial councilor, the wife of a pop culture icon or the ex of the current president, just adds a layer of intelligence to this image. That she speaks without sacrificing her privacy, that she's consistently about a real sincere compassion for the world that's premised on a particular sense of justice, that she will not compromise certain things, only adds a layer of credibility. Right there is reason to be thankful for Miss Lucy and Ate Shalani. Right there, we thank heaven for the decent and well bred, the ones who have ended up in public lives, but will refuse to be eaten up by its trappings. Yes, these provincial lasses show us how. - GMANews.TV