To Be Brit Or Not To Be Brit

If I were given a second chance and a second choice at my race, maybe I'd pick to be Brit. They brought us New Wave for Christ's sakes! (Can you honestly imagine growing up in the 80s without punk rock?) And the Beatles before that! And there's Hugh Grant. Plus Jim Sturgess. And for many others, Robert Pattinson. And who doesn't love Brit humor? Think Notting Hill, Bridget Jones, and, yes, Simon Cowell. And never forget about the bloody accent. Isn't it lovely?

But coming from yesterday, I am only too happy there are no such things as second chances and second choices at race. The Brits have all of the above alright, but they do not have Manny Pacquiao.

PacMan Proud

We have been called a lot of things. Maids (by the Webster dictionary and, most recently, by a HongKong-based writer). Petty thieves. Mail order brides. One cannot blame our Filipino brothers abroad for sometimes having feelings of shame about the race they are born with. No, it's not because of the domestic helpers, the internet brides, the petty thieves. It's the bigger thieves sitting in positions of power in their homeland, hounding them with news of corruption even as they work their butts off in strange lands because their country cannot provide for them.


Today, Pinoys all over the globe should savor the moment. They should go out in the streets and tell everyone they come across with they are Filipinos—with pride, without the old feelings of inferiority, without bowed heads and downcast eyes. They should do it now. While the victory is still fresh. While the world is still in awe. And at the end of the day, they should thank God for men like Manny Pacquiao.