The Philippines has become very important to me over the last four years. It’s now the focus of much of my life and I want to spend more time there. The winters in France are just too cold for me now. When you visit a country for longer periods, months at a time, as I … Continue reading Philippines 2016: Markets and Mountains
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In August 2010 Charis and I went on a road trip up the West Coast of Scotland. As usual it pished with rain but the gale-force winds at least kept the midges at bay! Rod Fleming on Google+
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Rodrigo Duterte Pic: Rappler.com
This month the Philippines elected Rodrigo Duterte, a tough-talking maverick largely unknown outside his own country, as President.
The Western media has been completely wrong-footed by Duterte, and has even compared him to Donald Trump. But Duterte is a far more complex character and if he reminds me of any politician, it is Alex Salmond of Scotland’s SNP. The two men play the politics game very alike — something the rivals of both have come to rue.
Despite the ignorance of the outside world, Duterte is by no means an unknown quantity in the Philippines. Over the last four years, in my travels there, I have become used to the affection with which ordinary people — living hundreds of miles from his bailiwick — speak of him. He is ‘Rody’ or ‘Digong’ and in text, sometimes D30.
Duterte’s city, Davao on the southern island of Mindanao, is one of the three largest in the Philippines, with a population greater than several European nations. He has proven himself a skilled manager of the city’s finances over the decades of his rule. He has fought and won eleven elections — not a bad score for any political animal. While claims for the security and low levels of crime in Davao may be exaggerated, people there regard him as a true defender of the peace.
When one of the Vice-Presidential candidates, Alan Trillanes, put out a story, in the last days before the election, that Duterte had 17 million USD (equivalent) that he had not declared — a tricky matter for a career public servant earning less than 50,000USD per annum to explain — Duterte dealt with it in typical style, turning the story on its head and severely damaging his enemy when he, finally and after extracting the maximum of drama, released his accounts. This is no rookie at the game of politics, but a master.
In other ways too, Duterte’s gamesmanship is remarkable. All through last summer he dithered and denied. Yes, he would stand, then no, he wouldn’t. And again and again, for months. Some began to call him ‘flip-flop’ on social media. But the joke was on us, because by the time he finally announced that he was going to stand for President and filed his notification, only days before the deadline, millions of ordinary Filipinos were literally begging him to stand. You can’t buy that kind of electoral boost; Duterte did it with brilliant — if Machiavellian — manoeuvring.
Davao, Duterte’s city, is known to have freelance death squads, which have attracted the attention of the United Nations’ Commission for Human Rights. Thousands have been summarily executed by these thugs, usually because they had been denounced as criminals. Duterte, it is alleged, did nothing to stop these killings and, if anything, used them as political capital. Davao was safe, he claimed, because criminals are too frightened to operate in it.
Does Duterte order the killings? It’s unthinkable. For all his ‘man of the people’, tough-guy persona, he is a lawyer by profession and has repeatedly proven himself as such. That he would put himself in a position where he might be arrested and charged is so unlikely that it may be discounted; and there have been twenty years in which such charges could have been brought. The Davao Death Squads do exist; but the overwhelming likelihood is that Duterte has nothing to do with them — except to claim the credit for making his city safer.
Whether or not Duterte is innocent is of academic interest in any case, because the fact is that his Teflon coating has dealt with them. Knowing Duterte’s track record, investigators will go blind with paperwork before they get anywhere near the truth, by which time his presidency would likely be over. Duterte is now 71 and his life in politics is drawing to an end.
Enough of the man; but what has made the Philippines elect him? He won 38% of the vote in a multi-party election with 80%? turnout. (David Cameron would so wish.)
In tactical terms, the establishment Liberal Party were completely blindsided by the candidacy of Senator Grace Poe. Poe is a foundling and had also acquired US nationality, at which time she renounced her Philippines one; so her candidacy faced a legal challenge. Presidents must be both Filipino by birth and Philippines citizens. Many believed that Poe would not be allowed to stand.
Grace Poe
However the Supreme Court, in a majority decision, upheld her right to stand. Poe, although relatively inexperienced and lacking real ‘star quality’, found herself pitted against the Liberal Party’s Mar Roxas, who is experienced, competent and has even less star quality.
Poe’s candidacy meant that these two were — belatedly — trying to win votes from exactly the same demographic. In a race of two lacklustre horses, each, in the end, took around half that vote.
Mar Roxas
That this left a hole as big as a house for Rody Duterte to charge through became obvious to many observers very soon but not, alack, to the Administration. While it is true that President Aquino did call, in the last week, for the parties to ‘come together’ to stop Duterte, what he meant was that Poe should stand down to let Roxas take her votes. This, unsurprisingly, did not persuade Poe. (Meanwhile other pundits were calling for Roxas to stand down for the same reasons — which cries were similarly ignored.)
The Philippines does not have a two-stage voting system such as in France, where the various candidates are thinned down to two in the first poll and the winner decided in the second. In the Philippines, there’s one vote and whoever gets the most votes wins. In a French-type system, Mar Roxas and Rodrigo Duterte would be facing off in another round and the chances are that Roxas, despite his blandness — I am always reminded of John Major; competent but dull — would win comfortably, assuming a majority of Poe’s voters switched to him. However, such is not the case.
In political terms, the impetuses for Duterte are complex. First is the ongoing civil strife, in the southern island of Mindanao especially. Aquino has supported the attempts of the Muslim minority there to extend the autonomous region they live in and deepen its powers.
Many Filipinos consider this unconstitutional, since the Philippines is a unitary state with no tradition of federalism, where all citizens are equally protected under the same law. They point, amongst other things, to the existence of non-Muslim tribal peoples living in the area that would be covered and insist that this arrangement would be contrary to their constitutional rights and protections.
Nevertheless, the negotiation of a separate law, the so-called ‘Bangsamoro Basic Law’ or BBL, was a major Aquino target and looked certain to be ratified, despite its unpopularity with the 95% of the citizenry who are not Muslim.
Then, in February 2015, a military assault was organised to capture a number of known terrorists hiding in the Moro region. It was carried out by members of the Special Action Force (SAF) who were really armed policemen rather than soldiers. They were ambushed and forty-four were slaughtered by gunmen from the Moro Islamic Liberation Front (MILF). The fallen became instant martyrs and heroes, the ‘SAF 44’.
While blame for this catastrophic debacle fell on the shoulders of the Police General responsible, Alan Purissimo, Aquino was tainted both because he was seen as accommodating of the MILF — who overnight became pariahs — and because Purissimo was Aquino’s appointment. (As a result of the massacre, the BBL was not ratified.)
Duterte, whose city, Davao, is in Mindanao, is seen by many both on that island and elsewhere, as tough enough to deal with insurgents; and on the other hand, he has ‘lines’ of communication with several insurgent groups himself. Foreign observers should realise that low-level war and insurrection has been going on in parts of the Philippines, especially Mindanao but also Luzon and Visayas, since the Vietnam era. It was this that provided the justification for Marcos infamous dictatorship and the Martial Law era. Filipinos are inured to it, but heartily sick of it. It is a major reason why the tourist industry there lags so far behind, say, Thailand, despite the astonishing natural beauty. It is a sad fact that many in the Philippines have forgotten the realities of that time and see a ‘tough guy’, a benevolent dictator, as the best solution to the problems of insurrection, despite the fact that it has been tried and failed.
The next big issue is crime and particularly, drug-related crime. There is no question that drug trafficking is being used as a scapegoat for wider social ills and has allowed politicians — even Duterte — to sidestep them. However, the persistent, chronic level of crime throughout the Philippines is a major problem. That this is so is obvious by the sheer numbers of armed security guards. They are everywhere. Even small convenience stores have round the clock armed security and any bank branch will have at least three at the door. They will be armed with pepper sprays and batons but also with pistols and pump-action shotguns. That’s serious firepower right there; you don’t invest in protection like this without cause.
As well as this, there is a degree of public disorder related to alcohol. The Filipinos like to drink and when they do, they can be unruly. Compared to the Scottish ones I grew up in, Filipino towns, even late at night, are havens of peace and order; but there is a public perception that they are not.
Low-level crimes, which exist alongside much more rare and localised, but far more severe ones like ransom kidnapping and even piracy, are a constant niggle. Duterte’s promise, to clean it all up in six months, is like a breath of fresh air to a population sick to the back teeth of criminality. They know that the establishment has done nothing to curb it and the prospect of a new broom has proved very enticing.
Next, the age-old problem of Pilipino politics is that it is in the hands of a small number of wealthy and powerful clans. The Aquinos and the Marcoses are the best known of these, and historically, power has passed between them since the fall of the Ferdinand Marcos in 1986. This has, unfortunately, led to obvious cronyism, nepotism and political favour, as well as the public perception of massive criminality on the part of the political class itself: in other words, corruption. Just by being from outside the cabal of powerful families, Duterte is a threat to their convenient political arrangements. This alone was probably enough to secure the man millions of protest votes.
It is a sad truth that the Philippines has become synonymous with corruption. It is much more severe than in other southeast Asian nations and some believe it is a hangover from the Spanish colonial era. Whatever the cause, it is a major problem; look at the extent to which Filipinos bemoan it, even to a foreigner. You can hardly hop on a taxi from the airport but the driver will start talking about it.
This corruption exists not only at the highest but all levels of the bureaucracy. It ranges from unfinished — but paid for — public works programmes, through the millions allocated for disaster relief (example) which have vanished while thousands of victims, years later, are still living in refugee camps, to routine payoffs for traffic offences. The facts are that public servants are underpaid and have the power to augment their salaries through graft. So they do.
This has been going on or many years, however; why has it become an issue now?
To answer this you have to look at demographics. The Philippines is seeing an exponential population explosion. While it does have indigenous manufactory and a huge agricultural sector, two other areas have grown up as a result of the numbers of young, relatively highly-qualified people. These are Overseas Filipino Workers (OFWs) and call-centre workers.
The former comprise everyone from maids to nurses, doctors, engineers and architects, and number around 2.3 million. The latter are by and large degree-level young people with excellent English. These two sectors contribute disproportionately to the economy and their power is growing. They constitute a new, moneyed and educated middle class.
While call-centre workers and other domestic professionals suffer the same levels of victimisation by corrupt officials as everyone else, they are inclined to be more articulate in their protest. If my own straw-polling as well as others is correct, a majority of these, by some way, were right behind Duterte. They have no memory of the Martial Law era under Ferdinand Marcos; they see a strong but fair leader, even one who might bend the rules here and there, as a force for good.
OFWs have for decades suffered at the hands off corrupt immigration and customs officials. Allegedly, their ‘balikbayan boxes’ — essentially duty-free gifts for those at home — are routinely pilfered and the contents presumably sold, or outrageous and unfounded ‘customs charges’ are applied — which can be unapplied on payment of a bribe.
The fury of the OFWs went full beast mode when a scam at the Philippines’ largest airport, NAIA, as well as others, was made public. Passengers going through the final security check would be detained and told that there was a live bullet in their baggage. Either the victim could pay a bribe or miss the plane. This became known as the ‘tanim-bala’ scam.
Several high-profile incidents like this last year, which, unusually, were publicised, opened a floodgate of resentment. The scammers’ mistake was in picking on a foreign traveller, a US citizen who was a missionary, and who not only refused to cough up, but went very public indeed, bringing the US Consulate into the case. Thus the can of worms was opened and we learned that for over two decades, police, security guards and baggage handlers had been extorting from thousands if not hundreds of thousands of passengers a year. And the most victimised group was, of course, the OFWs.
It turned out that of the detentions for ‘tanim-bala’ — that were actually recorded, and nobody knows how many were not — only 3% actually resulted in an investigation. In other words, in 97% of recorded cases, the victim coughed up the bribe, typically ten to twenty USD, and was released.
Despite over 50 of the staff at NAIA being suspended over this, it was the straw that broke the camel’s back. OFWs were incensed at a patrician, establishment Administration that was not only, they believed, corrupt in itself but connived with corruption at every level of the bureaucracy. And President Benigno Aquino III symbolised that corruption.
So when Rodrigo Duterte, the tough-talking, joking, affable but firm mayor from Davao, who comes across like everybody’s favourite uncle, wears jeans and checked shirts, lives in an ordinary house and drives an ordinary car, blasts in and says, ‘You leave it to me, I’ll sort this mess out,’ he is like a messianic superman, an answer to so many prayers. At last, someone who understands ordinary people and who is prepared to actually do something about their hardships. And a quirk in the Pilipino electoral system has allowed this maverick, this Lone Ranger brandishing metaphorical silver pistols and gunning for the bad guys, to break through.
We cannot know what will happen next. Social media is alive with a conspiracy theory that the establishment intends to oust Duterte and seize power again. The scenario goes like this: Duterte will impeached — for something — and Liberal Party Vice-President-elect Leni Robredo will take over. This despite Robredo’s impeccable history and her assurance that she will work with Duterte and not against him.
Leni Robredo
However, when did a conspiracy theorist ever heed facts or personal reputations?
This conspiracy theory, which has been stoked by the dictator Marcos’ son, ‘Bongbong’ who ran a close battle with Robredo for the VP slot, may have provoked Duterte into his first major political mistake, before he has even taken power. In defeat, Marcos has proven bitter and petulant, but his support is roughly contiguous with Duterte’s.
In the Philippines, the Vice-Presidency is a non-executive, ex-Cabinet position, without any portfolio at all. The Vice-President is elected completely separately from the President and may not be in the same party — indeed, the two might be arch-rivals.
At the same time the President has absolute power to appoint the Cabinet.
A statesman would have probably have given Robredo — a proven and accomplished politician — a portfolio and Cabinet post that would not have demeaned her…Foreign Affairs, for example, where Duterte is weak.
While he won the Presidency by a clear majority over his nearest rival, Duterte remains a minority President, with 62% of the population having voted against him. Bringing Robredo into his Cabinet would have been an olive branch to the majority who were defeated by the electoral system, while at the same time keeping her from getting into any mischief. I suspect Duterte would have liked to do that, but feared a backlash from his own supporters as a result of Marcos’ post-facto allegations of electoral foul play. That’s politics.
Notwithstanding what, on the face of it, appears to be an early slip, Rodrigo Duterte is a consummate politician. He knows exactly where every crack in the ice is and his great talent, apart from his ability to appeal to the public, has been in knowing how to skate within a hairsbreadth of them, always staying just on the safe side.
The Philippines remains, potentially, a vibrant and dynamic regional power, crippled by corruption, poverty and internal strife. It is a nation of young people and many of them are highly educated. It has vast natural resources and is, literally, a tropical paradise; not for nothing is it called the ‘pearl of the Orient’.
If Duterte can re-unite and revitalise this disparate and riven nation, then he might just be the Lone Ranger after all.
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The whole of south-east Asia is remarkable for its highly visible populations of transsexual women. These are not at all the same as what you may have been used to thinking of, if you are a Westerner. They’re not like Bruce ‘Caitlyn’ Jenner. In fact, most of the publicly visible ‘transgenders’ in the West are not transsexual at all, except in a very limited sense. Scientifically they are ‘autogynephiles’ or to put that in lay terms, fetishistic transvestite men. Other than wearing women’s clothes and make-up, and maybe having cosmetic surgery, they remain what they always were — heterosexual men. Not too many straight men would find them attractive, although, to be fair, that is not their aim. (See my discussions on Ray Blanchard for more details.)
Ladyboys in Thailand and across Asia are not like that at all. They belong to a group known scientifically as ‘Blanchard HomoSexual TransSexual (HSTS)’or ‘Early Onset Androphilic Transsexual (EOT) but which I refer to as ‘true transsexual’ for simplicity — and accuracy. They are strongly attracted to men and always have been. Usually, they began having crushes on men when they were around 5-7 years old. They almost certainly were gay boys at some point in the past.
They are beautiful and very sexy. They are extremely feminine in appearance and manners. From their early teens they use female hormones, often birth control pills which are freely available without prescription, to turn themselves into staggeringly beautiful women, with the specific aim of attracting heterosexual male lovers. And the fact is that many men are powerfully attracted to them.
However, many of those men are coy about meeting transsexual women. In the West they may be put off firstly by peer pressure and the fear that they may be called ‘gay’, but also by hostility from Western transvestites. These absolutely do not want sexual interest from men, because they are heterosexual men themselves, even if they happen to be dressed up as women. So they routinely ‘shame’ men who are interested in them, which may confuse those who do not understand that there are two different types, which bear no relationship to each other at all. At the same time, true transsexuals are hard to meet in the West, since they usually find things easier if they live in ‘deep stealth’ so that nobody knows their true gender status. One way to get round this is to go abroad.
I was recently asked how things were in Pattaya, so if you’re thinking of going there to meet some TS women, the following may be useful — or at least more useful than most of the garbage you’ll find on transphobic ‘backpacker’, ‘ex-pat’, or autogynephile sites. We’re definitely trans friendly here, as long as you are the right type. I’ll do something on the other major hotspots some other time, but the general rules apply there too.
While there are huge numbers of transsexuals throughout Latin America, where they are usually called ‘travestis’, this is not an easy destination for Western men. Brazil in particular has a very violent culture and communication is hard unless you speak Portuguese. Colombia is notoriously dangerous and while Argentina is arguably less so and is certainly ‘gay-friendly’ it is a very expensive destination for Europeans, and without decent Spanish, life will be tough. As well as this, the areas where you might meet the girls you’re looking for are often downright dangerous. Outside of a few well-known holiday spots (where the police deliberately exclude transsexuals anyway,) these are destinations for the experienced traveller, rather than tourist, only. Nothing will be laid on and everything will be difficult and frustrating. Trust me.
As a result, and increasingly, the destination of choice for men, who desire to investigate further their attraction to transwomen, has become Thailand, and particularly Pattaya, along with Phuket and Bangkok, the capital. Thailand has a very well developed tourism sector, with many hotels and short-term apartments at very reasonable prices. It is easily and cheaply accessible from the West by air and does not require prior visa approval for most Westerners — you get a month automatically on entry. As well as this it is relatively inexpensive, fairly relaxed, warm, sunny, many people can speak English and there is excellent infrastructure and communications. Together, these make it popular with all types of tourists as well as more hard-core travellers.
Thailand is therefore an ideal destination for the ladyboy-attracted man who wants to find out more. ‘What happens in Thailand stays in Thailand,’ is the saying and as long as you don’t make the actual news, nobody will ever know what you get up to — although they may presume you are seeking out sex.
Action in Pattaya is constant all year round, although in the low season, Western summer, things can be a little quiet and it will be rather hotter and wetter than from November to March. Only around 10% or so of the sex workers in Pattaya are ladyboys, as transsexuals there are usually known (they all call themselves that) but they are obvious. Ordinary Thai girls, even sex workers, are nowhere near that forward, or, frankly, that gorgeous. Pattaya attracts a lot of Russian family tourists — I can only imagine what might be going on inside their heads — but they don’t get in the way.
(By the way, don’t call ladyboys ‘kathoey’. Depending on pronunciation and context, this may be offensive.)
You will see ladyboys serving in restaurants, in shops, working in hairdressing salons — I think every salon in Asia is majority LB — as well as in banks, travel agencies and such-like. Besides this, there are well-known, glamorous ladyboy cabarets. 
However, for the intending trans-attracted Lothario, that leaves plenty of choice. There are estimated, at the last figures I saw, to be as many as 1000 transsexual sex workers in Pattaya, of a total of 10,000 or so including natural girls and gay boys. These girls either work in bars or freelance on the street, while some do ‘escort services’ through websites.
Generally, contracting with bar girls is safest because they work under a person called a mamasan. This is usually an older woman or ladyboy whose job it is to manage the younger girls. The mamasan will make sure the girls behave when they are with clients (you have to behave too). So if there’s an issue, you can go see mamasan and get her to sort it.
However, you will have to pay a ‘bar fine’ to take a girl out of the bar. The logic behind this is convoluted and it’s really just the bar’s cut from her sex work. How much depends on the bar. 300 — 500 short time is reasonable, but I have heard reports that this is going up. If so, that will just put business in the hands of freelancers.
The girl will ask for 1000 — 1500 short time, although, if you appear green, she might chance for more. Don’t pay it; it’s a buyer’s market.
You will find yourself targeted by girls (of both types) so be polite but firm. In some bars, ladyboys will be extremely direct and may shock you. Expect to have your genitals in someone’s hands early on, and someone’s genitals in yours. However, don’t be rushed and if you don’t fancy a particular girl, just say so. Protocol, with bar girls, is to buy a ‘lady drink’ while discussing your plans for the evening. These are more expensive than regular drinks and she gets the excess as a tip. If you are interested in having sex with her, tell her so and move to the conclusion, otherwise she’ll think you’re not serious and may just disappear. (You have no idea how quickly a six-foot LB can either vanish or suddenly materialise right beside you until you have seen it done.)
Also, try to define what will be on the menu before you make the deal. I won’t get into too many details but, for example, if you want a post-op, ask. Same if you are only interested in a pre-op. (Most are pre-op.) The usual sign is to make a snipping gesture with index and middle fingers. There are other gestures for specific sorts of entertainment. You’ll figure it out.
Many bars have rooms, usually around 300 — 500 baht, where the fun happens, otherwise your girl will know a place where the price will be similar. It’s not really usual to go to your hotel for short-time unless it’s very close by — cuts into the sex — but it is for long-time. Short-time, by the way, should be a leisurely hour, more if she’s having fun. And these girls are not miserable sex slaves. Most of them really enjoy what they do and if a girl likes you, she’ll let you know. You will enjoy what she does too.
If you’re thinking of taking a girl back, check your hotel is girl friendly beforehand. Most are, but better to be sure. Many girls are reluctant to do long-time in the early evening (they can make more money with quickies) but at the end of the night might be quite up for it — nice hotel bed, proper shower and breakfast on you. (Well, lunch; good luck getting one of them up before 2 pm.) Expect to pay 2000 — 2500 baht depending on the time and how much of a slob you are.
Your girl might be quite pissed by the end of her working night, since part of a bar girl’s job is to get as many lady drinks purchased as possible and she has to drink them. The later you wait, partly because of this, the more likely it is that you’ll get a rate — but also the more likely that another cruiser will snaffle her. Other men will just cut in and if you haven’t made a deal, that might be it, she’s gone and all the money you spent on lady drinks goes out the window. Just make sure she’s not a total zombie when you finally get her out; but if you can contain yourself, great morning sex will be on the agenda. Remember that while these look, feel and act like beautiful women, they are motivated by a male sex drive that is just as powerful as yours is.
(Once again, do not believe the horse-manure you’ll find on autogynephilic websites. Those writers are NOT transsexual, they are transvestite men. Most have zero interest in other men. Their delusion — that they are actually women — leads them to play down their sexuality. Trust me, a true transsexual is a highly sexually motivated person; and furthermore, she has no delusions about what she actually is.)
She’ll be asked to leave her ID card at the concierge desk, most probably, and this is definitely in your interest. A good hotel will require that you accompany her to retrieve it, so she can’t make off with your new Nikon while you’re asleep. Always use the room safe for your valuables, however.
If you take a bar girl home for long time remember the bar fine meter is running till you take her back. Get confirmation on how much from mamasan BEFORE you take the girl out. Do I need to mention, you must use a condom? Well you must. This applies even if you (think you are) in a long-term relationship with a bar girl. You don’t know who else is in there. Be sensible and be safe. (Now if you have a real relationship with a girl, which you are not going to establish in a 2-week trip anyway, it’s different. But by then you’ll have more experience.)
Finally, you can meet girls online. The principal site is www.ThaiFriendly.com, which has literally thousands of girls subscribed. (Facebook is also popular but the profiles are mostly in Thai, so you may have difficulty.) Not all the girls are seeking casual paid sex, most are in fact looking for longer relationships. But there are plenty who would still be interested and it will say so on their profiles.
Do be aware though, that you are effectively asking someone you have never even seen in real life to come and stay in your hotel room for however long. Take sensible precautions and it might be smart to meet at a short-time hotel; she may also feel more comfortable with that. (Note also that the same concern applies to the girls; if she’s dating rather than just coming for paid sex, expect to be asked to meet somewhere public and don’t be surprised if she arrives with ‘a friend’ who may be a large gay man. She’s just being sensible too.)
My advice to a first-timer would be to stick to bar girls until you find your feet. But having said that, nearly all the freelancers are fine; one thing that you will find, if you do this, is that Asian TS, call them what you will, are amongst the nicest and most fun people you will ever meet. The crack is DO NOT GET DRUNK and treat them with great respect. It’s Thailand, respect is a big deal. It will also be paid back.
Then there is the question of love. It is easy to get sex in Asia without paying for it. In fact, I used to wonder why anyone would, till I discovered the old adage ‘You don’t pay the girl for sex, you pay her to leave afterwards.’ Now I will be honest, being genuinely in love with an Asian TS who really loves you too is the most wonderful, rewarding experience. There is nothing she will not do for you. The sex will be mind-bendingly good. Most ladyboys have a great sense of humour and are strong characters — they have to be. She can probably cook like an ace, and will delight in looking after you. But the payback is commitment. You have to be ready to give that.
Asia is full of stories of Westerners who have had all their savings taken by a gold-digger who is actually running a string of men. So be careful. These are lovely women but they have real needs, supporting the rest of an enormous (by Western standards) family being one of them. They see milking Western men as a legitimate career; they don’t see it as fraudulent, as any cursory check of the relevant sites will prove.
Now it’s up to you. You can just buy sex in the marketplace; or you can have casual fun, and it will cost dinner and beachwear and salon visits and so on, and maybe the buffalo got a bit sick this week. There’s probably not that much in it. Or you can get serious. But serious is really serious, and these girls will give you their hearts on a plate. If that’s not what you want, you have to tell them. You need to know what you want up front and not let passion — or for that matter alcohol — cloud your judgement. I can highly commend the experience of being in a committed relationship with an Asian TS, but it’s not for everyone. Try to be cool and if you’re only going to test the waters and find out about yourself, follow the old adage — ‘no getting lubbed up’.
Back in Pattaya, watch it on Beach Road after 1 am. Just be careful and if you feel you’re a bit tipsy, get a tuktuk or a taxi home. Don’t walk alone there if you can avoid it.
Also, you’re meant to carry your passport at all times in Thailand but this is risky; better make a colour photocopy and carry that along with your hotel reservation receipt, so if you are asked (very rare) you can politely explain it’s at the hotel. (This is one area where the Philippines is better; here, if you extend your visa, you’ll get an Alien Registration card and that is all you need to carry, leaving your passport in the room safe at all times.)
Be aware that there is a difference between Thai Royal Police and the Tourist Police. If you have trouble go to the Tourist Police FIRST. They have a cabin in Walking Street. They are generally more sympathetic and speak good English — indeed, most are ex-pats themselves. If you go to the Thai Royal Police and they reject your claims, that’s it and the Tourist Police can do nothing to help you, even if you have a legitimate grievance. It’s a ‘face’ issue.
Also, anything you agree to will be held to be a binding contract in any dispute. So mind what you say. If you are in a dispute with someone and you believe you are right, keep schtum and insist on calling the Tourist Police. (The old ‘jet-ski’ scam is still ongoing, for example. Here, an innocent is hired out a jet-ski with significant damage which may have been covered up to make it look less obvious. He takes it back and bingo, $500 USD bill for repairs, while the owner is brandishing a gun. Keep calm and get the Tourist Police. The scammers are all known to them. But if you agree to pay the damage in the heat of the moment or because you are intimidated, you’ll be held to it. Stay polite, say nothing and get the cops.)
Be very careful never to get into a violent exchange with any Thai. This applies just as much everywhere in Asia. ‘Face’ is hugely important across the region. I don’t care if you’re a 120kg 6’4″ Yankee Doodle or whatever. Apart from the fact that they might well be armed, all those little Thai guys do Muay Thai or I dunno what. Even if you do manage to get the better of one, you know something? He’s going to come back with 20 of his chums and hospitalise you if not worse. The best thing you can do, if you fuck up like this, is to get on the next plane out. They might not come today, or tomorrow, but they will come, and you will be consuming sustenance through an intravenous drip for the rest of your trip — or maybe your life. And don’t imagine that just because they look cute, ladyboys can’t defend themselves. They’re as strong as men (unsurprisingly) and will whip off a stiletto-heeled shoe and beat you round the face with it if they have to. Play bonny and play safe.
Finally, if you want all this in safety and to meet a nice group of girls in a relaxed, no-pressure environment, try Sensations Bar in Soi 21. Also, if you don’t mind staying a little out of town I can recommend Gino House. It’s quiet, clean and discreet.
Oh, and, I should warn you: once you have discovered ladyboy love you will never go back.
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Angelica Garing
It’s Easter. In fact, this is the 60th Easter I have passed on Earth, although I don'[t remember the first few. Or, for that matter a good selection of those that came after. However, Easter is an important time. It is the beginning of Spring, officially defined as the first full moon after the Spring Equinox and, perhaps more importantly, the moment when the year comes into bloom. I know this might not be apparent in Canada and suchlike airts, but still. You should have left them to the Indians. As the beginning of the year of fertility, Easter is a great Goddess festival and was such, long before it was hijacked by Christians. Indeed it was celebrated in ancient Sumer, 7,000 years ago, when the High Priestess would take a young man as consort for the year. We do not know what his fate was at the end of it. Still it is a time of giving thanks, when we should express our gratitude. And so I do. I am grateful firstly for my four wonderful children, without whom my life would have had no real meaning. I am grateful that I am still here myself, with all my faculties intact and even a full head of hair; so I must also thank my Martin forebears, who all went to their graves with luxuriant thatches. (The Flemings are all bald as coots by 40; I am grateful to have avoided that particular gene.)
I am grateful for something else too. I came to the Philippines in December to meet a particular woman, who regular readers might recall. However it was not as I had hoped and on Christmas Day 2015 we parted forever. For some weeks I dated girls here and really enjoyed it. It was like being at college again, only better. As a mature and sophisticated man, I have confidence that I lacked back then. Dating was a real pleasure and had you asked me in early January I would have said that I would have been happy to go on doing it as long as I had breath. But at the end of that month I met a girl — well, she met me, to be honest. And the upshot of that is that now, on this Easter Sunday, I am grateful that I am passionately and completely loved by an incredibly beautiful young woman, with the face of an angel and the body of Botticelli’s Venus rising. She asks nothing of me; I even have to persuade her to go shopping for clothes. All that she asks is that I have time for her and return the love that she so willingly and generously extends to me. And I am very grateful for that. I do not know where this will go but I can tell you that I have never felt so loved by a woman in my life. Any man who, in later life, finds himself alone and yet desires not to be, will discover, as I did, that there are many beautiful women who will make themselves available. Young, glamorous and sexy. And as long as the flow of money towards them is maintained, they will remain so. Some people call these women ‘high maintenance’. But the fact is that not all women are like that at all. And the harpies who preach from the wings about ‘age appropriate’ relationships are wrong. There are no ‘age appropriate’ relationships. There are only people. If you love someone, that’s it. As I wrote in The Warm Pink Jelly Express Train, your soul is as old as the hills and as young as the dawn; and even curmudgeonly old atheists like me have soul, though we know we don’t have souls. So my advice is this: ignore the Politically Correct whingeing of bitter old people whose lives long since ceased to have meaning, who are winding down into their long wait for death and seize the day. Yes, you’ll meet gold-diggers, but even that’s not all that bad, you know. The rewards can be considerable. Even if she only sees you as a way to have a better life, or to provide for the children fathered by another man, that does not mean she won’t be good to you, nor does it mean that you will not enjoy the experience. In the end, she might love you too. Then again you might, just might, run into the real thing, as well: a woman who really loves you, who doesn’t care that the years have taken their toll and who will nurse you when you’re sick. Who never asks for money, and who says her old clothes are fine, she doesn’t need new — but who will be gracious when you insist. Who goes to market and shops thriftily, so that you and she can eat well together without spending a fortune. Who is as happy to stay home and watch a movie as she is to be dined out — as long as she is with you. Who is smart and will talk about religion and philosophy with you, if you so wish; or whatever you want to discuss, because whatever interests you, interests her. Who is so mesmerisingly beautiful that just looking at her brings tears to your eyes, and who refuses to go to sleep at night without caressing your face with her fingertips. Who even, incredibly though it may seem, says she likes to hear you snoring because it reminds her that you are there, beside her, in bed. Who will turn your sexual dreams into reality and enjoy doing so. Who will staunchly defend you against all criticism and be your protectrice in the face of life’s travails. If you are so lucky as to find a woman like this, then I advise you to give thanks. There is no ‘god’ and even the Goddess is a metaphor; but there is love, and it is precious. Happy Easter. And thank you, Jelly.
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Mount Arayat at sunrise
A couple of weeks ago I went to Mount Arayat National Park in Pampanga, here in the Philippines.
I’d been invited by some friends to spend the day, with a walk in the mountain park in the morning followed by socialising later. This meant first taking a bus to San Fernando and then another, local bus. We wanted to be there for sunrise, which is why I found myself sitting in a taxi at 3.30 am, hurtling through Quezon City at speeds in excess of 100 kph. It was a good adrenaline rush to start the day.
I took a Victory Liner coach from Cubao. Many of the coach lines have terminuses there, and the other that serves Pampanga is Genesis. (Yes, the biblical one; this is the Phils.) The fare to San Fernando is 102 pesos. You can pay on the bus but during office hours there’s a ticket office which they prefer you to use. You can also get refreshments in the terminus.
As ever, food and drinks vendors boarded the coach to ply their wares before we set off. The journey time to San Fernando is roughly an hour, depending on traffic, following the North Luzon Expressway (NLEX). Be sure not to get off at the first stop in San Fernando, wait till you get to ‘interchange’.
Azumi doing her trail guide thing
I was to meet my friend Azumi Ballesteros and some others for the morning walk, but in the end only Azumi and another girl called Chin showed up. Two others had said they would come but hadn’t, and this had clearly annoyed Azumi; she has a sparkly nature, quick to anger but as quick to forgive.
After exchanging greetings we boarded another bus, which took us close to the Park entrance. Then, in true Pilipino style, we boarded a trisikel (a motorcycle and sidecar) for the last part of the journey.
Unfortunately, Azumi hadn’t checked the opening time of the park, which was 6 am, and we arrived at 5.30. No matter, the security rustled up some chairs in front of a television to divert us while we waited, and even made us hot drinks. I think mine was tea, but I’m not sure; as ever the main thing I tasted was sugar. It’s one of the charms of this country, though; everybody shares, even if they have a sweet tooth that would make a Westerner’s eyes water.
At six the official ticket-seller arrived and we began our walk up the hill. The first part is a steep and very uneven staircase called the Hundred Steps. It’s far more tiring than it should be, because of the difference in the heights between the steps; fortunately there’s a good handrail which allows the less than super fit (i.e. me) to haul themselves up. I noticed that Azumi and Chin had no problems though. Ah, youth.
After the Hundred Steps, the trail debouches (love that word) onto a metalled road for half a mile or so, and then becomes a rough trail through the forest again.
The Philippines jungle is actually a delight to walk in. There are very few nasty insects, unlike jungles elsewhere, to bite and make life misery for the walker, and
The jungle in the Phils is pretty healthy
even the flies are not numerous. I don’t know why this is, but Philippine jungles feel fresh and healthy, even when the temperature climbs.
But it is still jungle and one always has that sensation, as one does in any jungle, of being watched by myriad hidden eyes. I imagined how soldiers must have felt — and still feel — campaigning through country like this. I thought I was being watched by hundreds of shy animals, but the eyes could easily have been those of a predator or a hostile enemy. To patrol in country like this would be nerve-wracking. I grew up during the period of the Vietnam War but it was only much later, when I began to visit jungles, that I realised what that must have been like and why it was so traumatising for the US soldiers.
We were chatting about this as we walked and Azumi agreed.
‘My friend told me it’s really dangerous here.’
‘Is it? Why?’
‘There are NPA (New People’s Army) hiding in the forest,’ she replied, with her characteristic lisp.
Involuntarily, I looked around. The NPA, or in Filipino, Bagong Hukbong Bayan, are the armed wing of the Philippines Communist Party.
They appeared in the late 1960s and during the Marcos era their ranks were swollen by young people disaffected by the dictator’s brutal regime. Ever since they have been responsible for a trickle of killings, kidnappings and other banditry.
I am aware that as a European, I am a target that they might consider to be worth cash money; the fact that nobody would pay it would mean I would disappear.
Chin relaxing
While I shrug off Azumi’s worries, it’s true that you could hide hundreds of armed guerrillas in this jungle and not only would nobody ever know, they would be completely self-sufficient. The jungle is literally a larder. There is fruit hanging from the trees to pick and vegetables growing everywhere. The wildlife is rich and while we, as noisy townies, see only birds, there is certainly an abundance of game.
I confirm this in discussion — Azumi translating — with one of the park wardens, who double as guides. He has stopped us to ask where we intend to go, and suggests a viewpoint a few hundred metres higher up. I mention the NPA and he nods. ‘Maybe. You must be careful and stay on the path.’ I personally can’t see how this would make me less likely to be kidnapped, but I let it pass.
I point to the densely-forested peak of Mount Arayat itself, looming above us. He makes a face. ‘It’s four to six hours up there and the same back. And you can’t go alone, you need a guide. We can sort that for tomorrow, but I’m booked today.’
As well as the NPA, it turns out, whose presence the warden is being coy about, a more mundane cause of danger exists. The path is not well marked and the unwary can wander off it and get completely lost. It turns out that recently a party of Germans did just that and it took six hours of search the next day to locate them.
‘They were out in the jungle all night,’ explains the warden. ‘Now we don’t let people go up without a guide.’ I can see that Azumi is quite satisfied with this answer, although I’m not quite. Being a nosey journalist.
Why so dangerous in the dark? I suppose there are animals but there are no large predators; the most dangerous terrestrial fauna here are snakes and I remain unconvinced about the NPA. I think the real issue lies in the Filipino’s terror of the dark. I have encountered this before.
Filipinos are deeply superstitious and believe in a range of truly nightmarish supernatural beings that populate the night. These are not casual beliefs in the way that some people think it’s unlucky to walk under ladders or go anti-clockwise round churches. These are real, visceral beliefs in a spirit world that is not only immediately present, but a genuine threat to humans. These spirits, which range from the kapre, a dark-skinned, cigar-smoking, but usually harmless man* who sits up trees watching people, through the engkanto, and to the truly horrific aswang, a genus of ghouls that feed on people, only appear at night.
The most famous aswang is the mananangal
I am pretty sure this is the real reason the warden is so emphatic that it is dangerous to be out in the jungle in darkness; compared to the monsters of the mind that infest the darkened jungle, the NPA are small beer.
Research into these fascinating ideas, which I’ll go into another time, throws light on the Philippines’ history. Although the originals of the demons existed long before the Spanish came, these colonial overlords used them to terrify the people out of living in the forest and come to live in the towns where they could be better controlled. They slaughtered natives — who may or may not have been campaigning against them — mutilated the bodies and put them on display, claiming that this was the work of the aswang and other creatures of the night.
This, apparently, worked and to this day Filipinos are extremely nervous about being in the forest after dark.
The friendly warden led us a little further up the path and pointed out the viewpoint, then struck off on another trail. Despite the terrors of the night and the poor pay, this was a man with a great job, I reflected.
Azumi, Chin and I reached the viewpoint at around 11, by which time the day was heating up. The most prominent feature was a massive rock, black basalt, which
Massive basalt rock erupted by Mount Arayat
must have been blown out by Arayat when it last erupted and looking around I could see dozens of other, similar rocks. The destruction wrought by these must have been enormous. This individual rock must have weighed 300 tonnes or so; the power needed to blast it up into the air from the crater itself, at least two miles away, is truly humbling. Mother Earth is not just the nurturing goddess that brings life, but the Dark Goddess of death and destruction. To the Sumerian she was Ereshkigal, to the modern Hindu Kali; but she has always been with us, her body the dread portal into death. Arayat, thankfully dormant for now, is where she spews her vengeful anger.
(Arayat is considered to be the home of goddess Mariang Sinucuan, the archrival of Namalyari of Mount Pinatubo.)
Azumi collecting banana leaves
At the rock we sat and some sticky sweet rice cakes, called malagket, which Azumi had brought. I can attest to the sugar content of these and confess I couldn’t eat all of mine, while the girls munched away happily.
Azumi and I climbed to the top of the basalt. The view was magnificent, even though it was a little limited by the heat haze. I could see Olangapo to the southwest, and, closer but still distant, San Fernando. Azumi pointed out other towns.
After a relaxing break we set off down the path again. It was very broken and obviously in times of rain, serves as a temporary river. I had noticed, on the way up, large deposits of manure that looks like they originated in something that was not quite a cow and neither a horse, and to my delight we discovered the source: a carabao. This is a kind of buffalo, and here it was being used by the licensed charcoal-burners who exploited the fallen wood to transport their produce back down the mountain. We watched as one, a female, was hitched into a cart. She seemed very placid and later we discovered more wandering loose. Nobody seemed to bother.
a carabao being hitched up
As we reached the lower levels we became aware of the heat; on the slopes the breeze had kept us cool, but here the trees were much bigger and sheltered us from it. There were many more people around by now and, as usual, everyone greeted us politely.
Once down near the entrance once more we stopped at one of the ‘cottages’ under the trees and the girls set out lunch — barbecued fish, meat and salad. I took a few pictures and we headed off to get a bus back to San Fernando.
*It is widely believed that a tree at the entrance to Malacanang Palace, the Philippines President’s official residence, is inhabited by a kapre, whose role here seems to be of supernatural protector.
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A transgirl performing a traditional Sinulog dance in the Philippines. Pic: Rod Fleming
Almost all credible authorities, according to GIRES in the UK, now agree that the baseline minimum for gender non-conformity as ‘at least 1%’ and this has been borne out, again according to GIRES, by recent studies in New Zealand, The Netherlands and Belgium.
Now ‘gender non-conformity’ is a broad church and by no means all of these would identify as transgender. However, research carried out by Professor Lynn Conway and also by the Williams Institute for Law, part of the UCLA, suggests about half of these are, for a prevalence of around 1:200. This is supported by census results from Malaysia, which put the incidence there — a country that is officially very hostile towards transgender — at 1:170 of male-born individuals.
This should tell us two things: transgender is innate and appears in all populations at roughly the same rate; and that as such it is a part of normal human variation.
Of these transgender populations, the vast majority are what is called by science ‘Blanchard HSTS’, ‘Early Onset Androphile’ or ‘transkids.’ These are almost always, uniquely, attracted to men. They appear as transgender very young and frequently begin dressing as girls, wearing their hair long and, in recent decades, taking feminising hormones in their early teens. They should not be confused with another, much less frequent type of MtF transgender, known as ‘autogynephiles’. These latter are fetishistic transvestite men, for whom dressing and pretending to be a woman is a sexual thrill: think Bruce ‘Caitlyn’ Jenner. (We will deal with these elsewhere; they are almost entirely restricted to white, middle-class Western men and globally are a tiny population.)
But why are MtF transgenders so obvious, and so open, outside the West?
While we were researching ‘Why Men Made God’ I spent much time in the Philippines and was lucky enough to be invited into the company of Filipino families. I was fascinated to observe the ‘two-group’ social model, which we described in the book, in full operation, and indeed I incorporated some of my observationst. This model was particularly obvious at large family gatherings. Here, the men would congregate around one or more tables — often drinking heavily — while the women and children socialised completely separately. There were never any women or children at the men’s tables. Because I am obviously a man, I was directed to the men’s group and observed from there, as the rising tide of alcohol — in the form of ‘Empi’ or Emperador brandy — rose to my gills.
This separation of two groups, however, was not to do with alcohol. As a foreigner and a guest — a person of important status in a Filipina household — I was also invited to join women’s drinking parties on several occasions and I can attest that Filipina women party just as hard as the men do.
One of the things that I did notice, in the large, mixed parties as well as in the women-only ones, was that while the men’s group was made up exclusively of adult men presenting as straight, the other group was of women, children and gays. When women socialised independently of men, there were always a number of gays or transgenders there too; they never, ever appeared in the ‘men’ group activities.
(The term ‘gay’ in Filipino culture does not mean quite what it purports to mean in the West. There, it signifies a person born male who identifies internally as a woman and who desires men romantically and sexually. The notion of the ‘egalitarian gay’ where manly manly men lust after other manly manly men, is regarded as risible throughout Asia and while there are some implantations of this Western model, they are reviled by the vast majority of gays there.)
So this leads us back to ‘what makes a woman?’ The simple answer ‘chromosomes’ will not work, since a small minority of women, who have a condition called Complete Androgen Insensitivity Syndrome, or CAIS, are actually XY karotype. Similarly, he argument ‘possession of a female reproductive system’ would cause a problem with CAIS women, who have vaginas, but none of the other female reproductive system. In any case, this explanation does not satisfactorily answer why it is that women and men are so markedly different in so many non-physical ways, such as how they socialise.
At the same time, a purely essentialist approach — it’s down to chromosomes or genitalia at birth — does not allow for what we now know to be between half to one percent of the born-male population, who are to all intents and purposes, women. These are the HSTS transgenders I referred to earlier, the transkids.
Gender itself is a construct of behaviours and expectations, almost none of which are fixed. Other than motherhood and the necessity to nurse and care for children, there is nothing that we associate with the gender construct ‘woman’ that is innately so. Other cultures, where there are more than two genders, demonstrate this too. Gender is fluid because, unlike being air skinned or blue eyed, it is a social, not a biological construct. It is a function of culture.
So ‘what makes a woman’ must be more than the possession of a vagina or XX chromosomes. Since gender is constructed and not innate, then it follows that it must be learned. And where and when is it learned? In childhood, through socialisation.
This is where the observation of social interaction in Asia becomes so important. Remember, one group contains only adult men; the other, everyone else. So there is a group of ‘men’ and a group of ‘not-men’. Gays fall into the latter group. They are never part of the ‘men’ group, because they are ‘not-men’. This is not just a function of orientation as a somewhat skewed Western perspective has it. Rather, a gay’s orientation is a function of her gender — which is, no matter what she looks like, always ‘not man’.
Blanchard demonstrated that HSTS transgenders are on a scale of variation with gay men (as they are called in the West; in Asia that would be an oxymoron). This close association, within the Asian model, means that all gays, whether transgender or not, are related and are, in social terms, part of the ‘not-men’ group: in other words, in terms of socialisation, they are women. These individuals grow up socialising with girls and woman and adopt the gender expressions that are naturally found within this group as their own.
That is why HSTS are so feminine: their childhood socialisation was within the ‘not-men’ group, within which the authority figures are all women. When the women, children and gays congregate together, separately from the ‘men’ group, at the centre of the group is the matriarch, usually a grandmother or great-grandmother, but perhaps the eldest sister or some other woman identified by a mysterious ranking system that exists within the matriarchy. Gays and transgenders grow up within this group and learn, and maintain throughout their lives, the gender construct that is their badge of membership.
‘Lola’ surveys her domain.
What Westerners may not realise, because of the vicious misogyny of the Western patriarchy, is that to remain part of the ‘not-men’ group is an honour. Boyish boys are excluded from it when they become adult, because men are inferior to women. Why are they inferior? Because they are brutish and violent and they cannot make babies. They lack the most important power of all. They can kill, but they cannot create.
While they may be sexually desired by those in the ‘not-men’ group, they are not part of it. The ‘men’ group is made up of outsiders looking in. The real action takes place in the ‘not-men’ group, presided over by the matriarch, who disposes her beneficence in the form of loving smiles and words and, frequently, gifts. She is ‘Mother Christmas’ and indeed, is an incarnation of the Goddess herself.
Gays, which group includes transgenders, have an honorary right to remain in the privileged ‘not-men’ group, because they have learned how to be women. They behave like women and this gives them the gender ‘woman'; they are tolerated within the group even though they lack the power to make life, because they do not offend those who do.
Following on from this they may adopt other behaviours consistent with being a woman: growing their hair long, wearing make-up, adopting ‘feminine’ body-language and so on. This gives them the right to remain a part of the ‘not-men’ group as they get older, and not to have to become part of the ‘men’ group. These actions symbolise a desire: to remain a ‘not-man’. This reinforces their adoption of gender roles and behaviours that they associate positively, in their culture, with women. This is why they are often so feminine and strive to be as beautiful as they can be — it is only in part to attract male partners: it is also a badge of affirmation, a sign of their membership of the honoured group, of being ‘not-men’ themselves.
When Western feminists point to socialisation as how it is that a ‘woman’ can be, they are right. What they fail to recognise is that, especially outwith the white, Anglo-Saxon, Western patriarchy, gays and transgenders share exactly the same socialisation patterns as women. Furthermore, once outside the protection of the ‘not-men’ group, gays and transgenders become targets for aggressive men. The patriarchy is very strong in Asian culture, but its compass is limited in one crucial regard; its authority does not obtain within the home or the family. So, while within that home, and the ‘not-men’ group that dominates it, gays and transgenders are generally safe, as soon as they step outside they are at risk from men who resent their very existence.
This resentment is because, by choosing not to be part of the ‘men’ group, gays and transgenders question its foundation. They are saying ‘what’s great about being a part of the ‘men’ group? I’d rather be a girl with my sisters in the ‘not-men’ group.’ That, of course, is an existential menace and the male patriarchy responds, as it always does to such challenges, with a narcissistic rage response.
This male resentment is very similar to the resentment that natal women feel everywhere. Asian gays are told in no uncertain manner that unless they join the ‘men’ group — which would mean undoing all their socialisation and changing their sexual orientation — then men will make their lives as miserable as they can — as men do to women. They are denied jobs, discriminated against and, if they can get work, obliged to accept worse terms and conditions than men would be expected to. They are insulted in the street. However it is not possible to unlearn one’s social conditioning, even if one might want to.
In the end, women, transgenders and gays are hated by the patriarchy for the very simple reason that women refuse to let men socialise with them, because they regard them as inferior.
This is the crux and it is outwith men’s power to control, something which men of course, utterly hate. That hatred is the foundation of the patriarchy, which is like a spiteful little boy’s response to being told he can’t play with the girls because he’s too rough. It is an entire social system founded on petulance, on men’s hurt feelings at being told that, no matter how much their mothers and sisters love them, they’re just not part of the club.
The ‘not-men’ group self-selects for inclusion. One is not part of the ‘men’ group by choice, but because one is put there by the ‘not-men’ group, essentially the women. This is a real power that women in these cultures — and it is seen all over the world — have over men. Gays and transgenders, in this model, are actually privileged. They have no desire to be part of the ‘men’ group. They want to remain outside it and within the group of women, children and gays. They reject manhood, masculinity and being part of the ‘men’ group. This is what men find offensive; and this offence may, when the power of women to suppress it is diminished, result in violence, even deadly violence.
Thus, in many senses, albeit not including motherhood, Asian HSTS MtF transgender have a very strong claim to be called a ‘second type of woman’ which is what they usually do refer to themselves as. They often look extremely feminine, they act like women and sound like them; but perhaps most of all, they are hated by the patriarchy in a very similar way to the way that women are hated. Gays and transgenders — they are essentially the same, with only detail differences of dress and hairstyle being different — are indeed women in terms of their gender, a social construct which they have learned from birth and through childhood.
Unfortunately, in the Western patriarchy, HSTS transgender women, who were until recently called ‘True’ transsexuals, have found their identity parasitised, colonised and erased by another group who claim to be transgender but who are in fact simply cross-dressing, sexually fetishistic men with a severe paraphilia: autogynephiles.
We shall discuss those in a future piece.
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A Bugis bissu. These are neither cis-men nor cis-women, nor are they trans men or transwomen. Instead they are all four other genders at once. South Sulawesi, Indonesia
When we were doing the research for Why Men Made God I kept coming across cultures where non-binary gender or sexual models were normal. We discussed a few such as the Zoé, the Mosuo and the Toraja but in the end time ran out and we could not add more although, as is so often the case, more and more keep turning up!
Why Men Made God is not all about gender or sexuality by any means but these examples are evidence that the binary, which the patriarchy puts forward as the only possible social model, is far from being so. They are valuable because they show us how we might move towards a more inclusive and mutually respectful society that values everyone as equals and accepts our duty of care for our planet.
Our present culture must either transform itself, now, and make the changes required for a soft, or at least softer collision with the buffers of climate change, or face the consequences of centuries of unbridled consumption and pollution in a global social catastrophe that will, without question, force radical change. This latter will be extremely painful.
We still have time to choose, if we move quickly, but the window of opportunity is narrow and closing fast.
Today I came across this, from Jerbearinsantafe
http://ift.tt/1IeHXZI
This details the five genders of the Bugis people of Indonesia. While Indonesia is a Muslim country with shariaa, there exists a long-established, widespread and respected tradition of tribal adat. These are pre-Muslim religious beliefs and customs. Within Indonesia they are tolerated, although, as ever, the rise of Islamic extremism over the last 15 years is now calling this into question.
I’ve linked to a YouTube video here
And here is a transcript of a researcher’s description.
What if there were not just two genders, but five? In Indonesia, there are
Sharyn Graham
I first went to Sulawesi in August 1998 on a reconnaissance trip to determine if this would be an interesting place to study gender relations. I had read a little about gender in Sulawesi, encouraged by my supervisors Dr Greg Acciaioli and Dr Lyn Parker, but I was not quite prepared for the richness of Bugis gender identities. In Australia we tend to assume that there are only two genders, woman and man, and two matching biological sexes, female and male. The Bugis acknowledge three sexes (female, male, hermaphrodite), four genders (women, men, calabai, and calalai), and a fifth meta-gender group, the bissu.
‘Bissu’ tends to be translated as ‘transvestite priest’, but this term is less than satisfactory. Transvestite implies cross-dressing, but bissu have their own distinctive clothing. Moreover, bissu do not go from one gender to another; they are a combination of all genders. To become a bissu, one must be born both female and male, or hermaphroditic. (To be precise, the Bugis believe that a bissu who appears externally male is internally female, and vice versa). This combination of sexes enables a ‘meta-gender’ identity to emerge.
La Tenri Olli’
Aseng tongeng-tongeng
Mu ri langi
Mu nonno’ ri lino
Mu riyaseng t
Your name in the heavens
Is La Tenri Olli’,
In the name of the buffalo,
Descend to earth.
Mariani begins her chant as the sun is setting behind the limestone cliff. The eerie chant is accompanied on the cylindrical drum called tumba, on cymbals (kancing), and metal rhythm sticks (ana’ baccing).
Over 35 of us had squeezed into two small mini-vans and traveled for over an hour to reach this place. We then walked a few kilometres to the mouth of a small cave, which, as I was to find out, went deep into the mountain.
Blessing
We had come here to perform a ceremony. A woman I knew named Ibu Qadri wanted to make the pilgrimage to Mecca. She needed the blessing of the spirits before she set off. Bissu have long conducted ceremonies like this. They are able to act as mediators between humans and spirits (dewata) because they are considered neither male nor female, and neither woman nor man, but a mix of all four of these.
This was one of my first bissu ceremonies. I was somewhat baffled as to why a pious Muslim would want a blessing from other spiritual beings. However, over the 15 months (until November 2000) that I lived amongst bissu, I learned that at least to the Bugis there really was no contradiction. They told me that Allah is the one and only God, but Allah has helpers, called dewata. The most powerful of the dewata is the one Mariani is calling today. When Mariani is in contact, the dewata will arrange for the most appropriate lesser dewata to descend and take possession of Mariani. Only then can Mariani bestow blessings.
For the blessing to be a success, Mariani and three other bissu had to enter a cave. I too was invited in. We took off our sandals, and two of the bissu carried burning torches to light our way. I was urged to lead in front. I later found out this was so that I could take their photograph as they entered the cavern. After we had slid on our backsides down the entry passage, walked quite a distance, successfully avoiding treading barefoot upon the many scorpions surrounding us, we came into a large cavern. Here we squatted in a circle. Mariani began chanting. At appropriate times the other bissu joined in. The ceremony here was short. When the chant was over we returned to the opening of the cave.
While we were away, preparations had been made for the main ceremony. Mariani took her place (or ‘hir’ place, since she is both male and female) in front of the large assortment of ritual offerings that were to be offered to the dewata. These included cooked rice died into four different colours(songkolo), eggs, a hen and a rooster, cigarettes, bananas, and coconuts. Mariani again began to chant, but this time hir chanting became erratic and frightening. Hir body began to shake and s/he became very angry. ‘Where are the siri leaves?’ These are an important part of the ceremony, but there were not enough of them. The spirit that possessed Mariani was furious and refused to give the blessing. Through Mariani the spirit conveyed that we could, however, perform the ceremony at the woman’s house. By the time we arrived at Ibu Qadri’s house it was dark. The altar and the offerings were set up in her living room, and the bissu adorned themselves in their powerful, magical (sakti) clothing. The ceremony began again. Everything was complete.
Mariani and the three other bissu performed their chants. In order to honour the spirits who had possessed them, and hence bless Ibu Qadri’s pilgrimage, the four bissu performed the ma’giri. Each bissu took their little dagger(kris) and tried to force it into their throat. If a powerful spirit has possessed them, and if the blessing is successful, the kris will not penetrate and they will not bleed. On this occasion, when Mariani had completed the ma’giri, I noticed blood coming from hir neck (see cover photo).
Not till many months later did I venture to question this. The reason was that the spirit who possessed Mariani had not been very powerful. However, with the combined efforts of the four bissu, Haji Qadri did make the pilgrimage to Mecca. On her return, she requested another bissu ceremony to give thanks to the dewata for protecting her on her journey.
Calalai
This brings us to calalai and calabai. Strictly speaking, calalai means ‘false man’ and calabai’false woman’. However, people are not harrassed for identifying as either of these gender categories. On the contrary, calalai and calabai are seen as essential to completing the gender system. A useful analogy suggested to me by Dr Greg Acciaioli is to imagine the Bugis gender system of South Sulawesi as a pyramid, with the bissu at the apex, and men, women, calalai, and calabai located at the four base corners.
Calalai are anatomical females who take on many of the roles and functions expected of men. For instance, Rani works alongside men as a blacksmith, shaping kris, small blades and other knives. Rani wears men’s clothing and ties hir sarong in the fashion of men. Rani also lives with hir wife and their adopted child, Erna. While Rani works with men, dresses as a man, smokes cigarettes, and walks alone at night, which are all things women are not encouraged to do, Rani is female and therefore not considered a man. Nor does Rani wish to become a man. Rani is calalai. Rani’s female anatomy, combined with hir occupation, behaviour, and sexuality, allows Rani to identify, and be identified, as a calalai.
Calabai, conversely, are anatomical males who, in many respects, adhere to the expectations of women. However, calabai do not consider themselves women, are not considered women. Nor do they wish to become women, either by accepting restrictions placed on women such as not going out alone at night, or by recreating their body through surgery. However, whereas calalai tend to conform more to the norms of men, calabai have created a specific role for themselves in Bugis society.
If there is to be a wedding in Bugis society, more often than not calabai will be involved in the organisation. When a wedding date has been agreed upon, the family will approach a calabai and negotiate a wedding plan. The calabai will be responsible for many things: setting up and decorating the tent, arranging the bridal chairs, bridal gown, costumes for the groom and the entire wedding party (numbering up to twenty-five), makeup for all those involved, and all the food. Rarely did I attend a village wedding with less than a thousand guests. On the day, some calabai remain in the kitchen preparing food while others form part of the reception, showing guests to their seats.
Bissu, calalai, and calabai challenge the notion that individuals must conform to one of two genders, woman or man, and that one’s anatomy must support one’s gender. Bugis gender reveals the diverse nature of human identity. It makes me question our own notions of gender. For example, why should Australia insist on a boring old two-gender system?
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Jeepneys at Waterfun, Taguig. Pic Rod Fleming
Most people have at least heard about jeepneys, the ubiquitous, colourful and incredibly noisy backbone of the Philippines public transport system. For those who have not, you’ll catch up.
The first jeepneys were in fact modified Willys Jeeps that the Americans left behind. The enterprising pinoys lengthened the chassis and fitted seats. Now they are custom built with stainless steel, all-enclosed bodywork and diesel engines.
Most jeepneys are 20-seaters; 18 in the back and 2 in the front, guv. This makes them unquestionably the friendliest form on transport on the planet, because actually there’s only enough room for 16 in the back and we are talking kitten-hipped pinoys here.
pic: Rod Fleming
This ensures fairly intimate physical contact as you are wedged in between people on either side. The conductors will make sure you’re wedged in too, banging on the outside and telling the passengers to squeeze up.
(I have only once had a conductor look me in the eye and say ‘You’re too big.’ I laughed it off as a matter of principle. If you’re one of those colossal American things, best get a cab.)
The next thing to be aware of is that there is only about 1.5 metres of headroom, so if you’re much over six feet, you will bang your head off the roof even when seated. For everyone, the low height means entering and leaving the jeep in a crouched position, of which more later.
Once wedged in between your new friends-for-life…well, at least for the next few minutes of it anyway… comes the small matter of fares. If you board at a terminus, a conductor will either take the fare as you enter or he’ll come on board to collect it. (I have never seen a woman doing this job. Jeepneys do appear to be strictly male that way.)
If you board en route, however, things are slightly different, and the etiquette demands that you call out ‘Bayat po,’ to the driver before handing him the fare. This he will take while driving and sort out your change and return it, also while driving. It’s quite a feat. Unless you tell him otherwise he will assume you want to go to the terminus, so if you don’t tell him. This also means he’ll stop to let you off at the right place. Since otherwise you won’t have a clue when to get off, this amounts to Good Thinking.
Pic: Rod Fleming
Jeep fares range from a low of four pesos to a maximum of sixteen, at least on the routes I have travelled.
Now the observant among you will probably already have picked up on a problem: what happens if you are not sitting right behind the driver? You’re wedged in, right, and negotiating a forest of knees crouched into a hunch while rattling along in this, let’s be honest, fairly basic machine would be impractical anyway. (At least if you lose balance you won’t fall far.) Well, there is a system. You call out ‘Bayat po’ just as if you were sitting behind the driver and wave the fare in his direction. One of the other passengers will take it and pass it forward till it reaches the driver.
In exactly like manner, your change, if there is any, will be returned to you.
Naturally etiquette demands that you participate, so when someone thrusts money at you, pass it in the appropriate direction. It should be obvious enough.
Now all this is very well, but how do you decide which jeepney to get in the first place? Well, they all ply defined routes for which they are licensed by the relevant city authority. The route will be painted on the side of the jeep itself…so, not obvious at night or when one is coming towards you. However in the windscreen there will be a small destination board with the terminus the jeep is heading for on it. These are only about 20cm x 8cm, so you’ll need sharp eyes and at night, a sixth sense. Best to ask if unsure.
Hailing jeepneys is easy, just wave your arm at an approaching one. If it has vacant seats, the driver will stop, if it doesn’t, tough. There will be another along soon.
To get the driver to stop and let you off, the standard method is to tap one of the stainless steel overhead rails with a coin. There are no real jeepney stops, the driver will just pull up as quickly as he can.
Getting off a jeepney is almost as entertaining as getting squeezed into the seat, especially at a terminus where everyone gets off. Here, you will leave in crouched stance, following the crowd in single file. This means that your face will be around a foot away from the person in front’s bottom. Depending on your preference, choose to enter the line after a boy or a girl…
I told you it was a friendly form of transport.
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