"Bastos"

PINOY KASI
‘Bastos’

By Michael Tan
Inquirer
Last updated 06:48am (Mla time) 07/07/2006

Published on Page A13 of the July 7, 2006 issue of the Philippine Daily Inquirer

SEVERAL years ago while conducting research on young adult Filipinos’ sexuality, I realized how important the word “bastos” was to young people.

When applied to sexual matters, “bastos” meant “lewd” and “obscene.” Quite often, the word would be used as a kind of blanket censorship that reinforced the culture of silence we have about sexuality. Sex in general was seen as bastos and therefore not suitable for conversations, at least not between elders and the young.

At another level, however, the term made sexual matters more alluring. Anyone knowledgeable about sex -- in theory or in practice -- would be called bastos in a tone that mixed a bit of mock contempt with grudging admiration.

The concept of bastos as lewdness tends to sidetrack a more important core meaning of the word, which is disrespect. “Binastos ako” means that someone has been disrespectful to us, and this can mean both sexual and non-sexual matters, and could be through words, deeds, or even a whole demeanor, as when a child gives that “dedma” [expressionless] posture in response to a parent’s sermon.

I think we need to move bastos away from a proscriptive, admonishing term toward one which emphasizes ethics, particularly respect for others. Let me cite two examples, from current events, to explain my point.

Bikini

Last Wednesday, July 5, was the 60th anniversary of the bikini. I always thought the name had something to do with its being a two-piece outfit (thus, “bi”) but it turns out its innovator, the French designer Louis Reard, had gotten the name from Bikini Atoll out in the South Pacific, where the United States had conducted its first nuclear tests in June 1946.

Reard’s bikini, made of three triangular patches of cloth held together with ties, was as earthshaking as the nuclear tests. Moralists and prudes quickly reacted. The bikini was banned in several countries and even by some French town mayors. Acceptance came slowly. A song made waves in 1960 with the title “Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polka Dot Bikini” and helped to boost sales. In 1962, Ursula Andress wore a bikini in the James Bond thriller “Dr. No.” And in 1964, the American magazine Sports Illustrated first used a bikini-clad model on its front cover.

Over time, the bikini has been analyzed and re-analyzed by social scientists for its social meanings. For some of the more feminist-oriented, the bikini represents the commodification of the female body, exposing as much skin as possible for male gratification. Paradoxically, the bikini can also be seen as an icon of sexual liberation, of women being able to expose themselves without fear of ostracism. There can be mixed feelings about this exposure, even from among women. Some see the bikini as having reinforced the premium on slimness; others (and I can testify to seeing this in Brazil) wouldn’t care less what their body shape is -- Coca-Cola-, apple- or pear-shaped -- using the bikini as a statement: “I’m proud of what my body is, even if it doesn’t conform to your standards.”

In the Philippines, the bikini hasn’t quite gained acceptance yet. Visit beaches used by the masses and you’ll find people not even using a one-piece suit; instead, they bathe in a blouse and short pants, apparently oblivious to the way a wet blouse may be even more provoking than a bikini.

The reluctance to use a bikini speaks not only of modesty but of body image, a fear that one might draw criticism for daring to use a bikini without the “k”, the “correct” proportions. I am told that the main buyers of magazines like FHM are women, curious to check, from the models in bikini, what men are looking for.

So, is the bikini bastos? Let’s save the possible answers for the end.

‘Lukayo’

The other case study I wanted to use was the recent two-week suspension by the Movie and Television Regulatory and Classification Board (MTRCB) of GMA Network’s “I-Witness” television program for featuring a documentary “Hindi Ito Bastos: Lolas with Phalluses.” The documentary featured Kalayaan town in the province of Quezon, where grandmothers dance with wooden penises to greet newlyweds. The MTRCB reprimanded “I-Witness” for featuring “frontal nudity” and “masturbation.” If they had been asked to render their opinion, and decision in Filipino, I think they would have claimed that “Hindi Ito Bastos” was bastos.

The MTRCB’s decision reflects a cruder definition of the word, a censorial term that sees anything sexual, including nudity, as lewd and obscene. The decision lacks a contextual understanding of how the dancing is so much part of local culture, one which has been done for many years, out in the streets. Howie Severino, the “I-witness” host, asked some Kalayaan residents if they thought the dances were bastos or not, and opinions were split, but even those who said they were bastos said it lightheartedly, with ill-disguised glee.

The dancing lolas remind us that popular Filipino culture is actually less conservative than we think. Kalayaan isn’t the only town that’s so comfortable with public displays of sexuality. One of my students many years ago compiled “green” loahan from another town in Quezon, songs about sexual anatomy and sexual acts that were sung, again by grandmothers and grandfathers, at wedding receptions. The list could go on and on, from the man in the barrel souvenirs of Baguio City to double-meaning pop songs.

It’s hard to trace the origins of practices like those of the dancing “lolas” [grandmothers]. There may be a pre-colonial fertility ritual aspect to all this. But I’m more inclined to see these as community “desensitization” exercises that help young people, especially newlyweds, to be more comfortable with sexual matters.

Questioning ‘bastos’

So, is the bikini bastos? If skin exposure is the criterion, then yes it is, but if it’s a matter of respect and disrespect, the answer becomes harder to come by. I would think it is bastos -- meaning disrespectful -- to deprive women of their autonomy, their right to choose what they want to wear to the beach. Are they bastos to people who may find the bikini too revealing? No, because people too have a choice not to look, and if they dare look and find the women stimulating, it’s their problem.

And the dancing lolas with phalluses, are they bastos? Taken in the context of community and of culture, I think not. In fact, what would be bastos is to go against the cultural norms of helping people to feel comfortable with sex. I’d go a step further and propose censorship itself is disrespectful, bastos, when it reads malice into a perfectly innocent aspect of culture. Censorship, too, is bastos when it deprives people of an understanding of their own culture.

I respect the prudes’ right to deny reality, to create their own fantasy sexless world, but I do resent it when they violate our right to view an aspect of our culture, to laugh and to marvel, and to come away understanding ourselves better.