Kulasa

HEART & MIND  By Paulynn P. Sicam

My alma mater has been in the news lately. More precisely, it has been in the cross-hairs of Internet trolls who have unleashed a surfeit of vulgarities against students of St. Scholastica’s College, also known as Kulasas, who have been pictured in the media holding  placards saying former dictator Ferdinand Marcos is not a hero. 

On Nov. 18, when it was announced that Marcos had been surreptitiously buried at the Libingan ng mga Bayani, the students and their teachers, including some nuns, left their classrooms and poured out to the streets to vent their ire on the Marcos family, the Duterte government and the Supreme Court for their skewed interpretation of what a hero is. 

This scene was replicated in almost all the other schools in Metro Manila and many more in the provinces. But the trolls zeroed in on St. Scholastica’s, castigating the administration and sic-ing parents on the school for allegedly exploiting their children.  Obviously, the trolls have not been paying attention these past decades because St. Scho and its students have been at the forefront of social activism for several decades now. 

“Education for Justice” has been SSC’s thrust since 1975, at the height of martial law. Sr. Josefina Nepomuceno OSB wrote in Daughters True, St. Scho’s centennial book, “In 1975, awareness of the growing social disparities and injustices in the country and the Third World honed SSC’s self-definition as a socially-oriented school. Adopting the theme ‘Education for Justice’, it re-oriented its curriculum, methodology and co-curricular activities towards social awareness and commitment to social justice.  While maintaining its traditional striving for academic excellence as part of its service to God and the Filipino people, SSC accepted the Church’s mission of liberation for all people from all forms of injustice and oppression.”

It was a brave thing to do during  the martial law years. From making students teach catechism in public schools and doling out aid to poor communities in the Sixties, the school expanded into conscientization in and out of the classroom and active engagement with victims of injustice. The school paper, The Scholastican, tackled the issues of human rights violations, repression, dictatorship, workers’ rights, demolitions, the bases treaty, and gender issues.  My school was out there, front and center, of the anti-dictatorship struggle.

With the restoration of democracy in 1986, “Education for Justice” was soft-pedalled into “Education of agents for social change for a more just and humane society.” Gender became a major concern; the woman’s perspective was incorporated into the different disciplines.

Even before 1975, however, Scholasticans were known to speak their minds.  In 1970, the school was rattled when a group in the graduating college class, fired up by the radicalization of the student movement, questioned the relevance of the oral and written comprehensive exams that every Scholastican had to take as a pre-requisite for graduation.  When the school did not budge, the students, led by Maan Hontiveros and Sylvia Muñoz, held what became known as the Guerrilla Graduation at the Mehan Garden in rites recognized by the Department of Education but not by St. Scho. The following year, journalist Corito Fiel, who was then a St. Scho student, wrote an earnest letter to the members of the Constitutional Convention on the expectations of the youth, which was carried on the front page of The Manila Times.

There have been many other Scholasticans at the forefront of societal change. St. Scho is proud to claim Cory Aquino who fearlessly stood up to the dictator and unflinchingly accepted the leadership of the country in 1986, as a Kulasa. The late, great, gutsy Supreme Court Justice Cecilia Muñoz Palma was a Kulasa.  Clarissa Ocampo, who testified before the impeachment court that she witnessed Joseph Estrada open secret bank accounts using another name, is a Kulasa. The courageous journalist Ceres Doyo is a Kulasa.  Aimee Carandang, the first woman commercial pilot in Asia, is a Kulasa. So was Mary Grace Baloloy, a Philippine Air Force pilot who crashed her plane, at the cost of her life, to spare the lives of others who were in harm’s way.

Cherith Dayrit, who was killed in a military ambush with her comrades in the New People’s Army in 2000, was a Kulasa too.  There are also Sr. Christine Tan, Maring Feria and her sister Teresa Nieva, Sr. Sonia Aldeguer, Sr. Mary John Mananzan, Doreen Fernandez, Anita Magsaysay-Ho, Risa Hontiveros, Josie Lichauco, Mitch Valdes, and thousands of other Kulasas in all walks of life — too many to mention, a diverse bunch who grew up under the guidance of the Benedictine Sisters and the discipline of Ora et Labora — Pray and Work — for God and country. 

So, it is not at all surprising to this older Kulasa to see our young descendants out in the streets speaking their minds and baring their hearts for causes that matter.

My sister Lory, who did not go to St. Scho, once said that in any situation, if you want to get something done, get a Scholastican to do it. The Kulasa, she observed,  is a hands-on, take-charge woman who will take on the challenge, be it planning a family outing, ensuring crowd control at a rally, or running the country. 

She will not be intimidated by the misogynistic name-calling and slut-shaming she is currently being subject to in social media. Like Michelle Obama, when the haters go low, the Kulasa goes high.