THE CONVERSION by J. Neil Garcia

Download as docx, pdf, or txt
Download as docx, pdf, or txt
You are on page 1of 3
At a glance
Powered by AI
The story explores the protagonist's forced conversion from identifying as female to male through a traumatic baptism-like experience involving submersion in water. Later in life, the protagonist struggles with memories of this event and takes on a harshly masculine identity, embracing traditional gender roles and the use of violence.

Initially identifying as female, the protagonist is forced by family to identify as male through a harrowing experience of being submerged in water. Later, he fully embraces the male gender role, getting married and having children to prove his masculinity. He also seems to repress memories and feelings from his earlier identity.

Water is used as a tool for the protagonist's conversion - their submersion underwater is a traumatic, baptism-like experience meant to wash away their female identity. Water also represents the erasure of the past and healing of wounds. Memories and dreams involving water connect back to this pivotal event.

o Misterios and Other Poems (2005).

THE CONVERSION
J. NEIL GARCIA
ABOUT THE AUTHOR:

J. NEIL GARCIA was/is

groundbreaking

study, Philippine

Gay

Culture: The Last Thirty Years (1996),

earned his A.B. Journalism, magna cum laude,


from the University of Santo Tomas in 1990;

M.A. in Comparative Literature in 1995,

Ph.D. in English Studies: Creative Writing in


2003 from the University of the Philippines
Diliman.

awarded

a National

Book

Award by

the Manila Critics Circle in 1996.

editor

of

the

famous Ladlad series

of Filipino gay writing,

edited for the Likhaan, the following


anthologies: The Likhaan Book of Philippine

currently

Professor

Writing and

Criticism (1992-1997) and The Likhaan Book

of English, Creative

of Poetry and Fiction (1998 and 2000).

Comparative Literature at

the College of Arts and Letters, University of


the Philippines Diliman,

latest critical work, Postcolonialism and


Filipino Poetics: Essays and Critiques, is a

serves as an Associate for Poetry at the

revised version of his very provocative Ph.

Likhaan: U.P. Institute of Creative Writing.

D dissertation. The book examined Filipino


poetics

author of numerous poetry collections and

the

perspective

of post-

colonialism consisting of the authors own

works in literary and cultural criticism:

critical and personal reflections on poetryboth as he reads and writes it.

o Our Lady of the Carnival (1996),


o The Sorrows of Water (2000),

from

sought to answer a specific and difficult


question: just how do the dominant poetic
theories

o Kaluluwa (2001),

in

the Philippines address

the

problems and debates of postcolonialism


o Slip/pages: Essays in Philippine Gay

Criticism (1998),

led

Garcia

to

confront

the

issue

of

Filipino nationalism. Garcia


o Performing

the

Self:

Occasional

Prose (2003),

addressed the assumptions and consequences


of Filipino nationalism

o The Garden of Wordlessness (2005),

engaged with the poetics of National


Artist Virgilio Almario and eminent poetcritic Gemino Abad, whom Garcia referred to
as the foremost commentators on Filipino
poetics.

currently working on a full-length book, a


post-colonial

survey

and

analysis

of Philippine poetry in English.

won

several

the Palanca and

literary

awards

including

the National

Book

Award from the Manila Critics Circle. He

has also received grants and fellowships to


deliver

lectures

in Taipei, Hawaii, Berkeley, Manchester, Ca


mbridge, Leiden and Bangkok.

611
legitimized homo
The Bearded Lady

INTRO:

GENDERS:
o male
o female
o lesbian
o gay
o transvestite
gender fuck
gender bend
u dont need to be opposite
o transsexual
knife
o transgender
girly clothes

That loved me. The water


Had been saved just for it, that day.
The laundry lay caked and smelly
In the flower-shaped basins.
Dishes soiled with fat and swill
Pilled high in the sink, and grew flies.
My cousins did not get washed that morning.
Lost in masks of snot and dust,
Their faces looked tired and resigned
To the dirty lot of children.
All the neighbors gathered around our
open-aired bathroom. Wives peered out
from the upper floor of their houses
into our yard. Father had arrived booming
with cousins, my uncles.
They were big, strong men, my uncles.
They turned the house inside-out
Looking for me. Curled up in the deepest corner
Of my dead mothers cabinet, father found me.
He dragged me down the stairs by the hair
Into the waiting arms of my uncles.
Because of modesty, I merely screamed and cried.
Their hands, swollen and black with hair, bore me
Up in the air, and touched me. Into the cold
Of the drum I slipped, the tingling
Too much to bear at times my knees
Felt like they had turned into water.
Waves swirled up and down around me, my head
Bobbing up and down. Father kept booming,
Girl or boy. I thought about it and squealed,
Girl. Water curled under my nose.
When I rose the same two words from father.
The same girl kept sinking deeper,
Breathing deeper in the churning void.
In the end I had to say what they all
Wanted me to say. I had to bring down this
diversion
To its happy end, if only for the pot of rice
Left burning in the kitchen. I had to stop
Wearing my dead mothers clothes. In the mirror
I watched the holes on my ears grow smaller,
Until they looked as if they had never heard
Of rhinestones, nor felt their glassy weight.
I should feel happy that Im now
Redeemed. And I do. Father died within five years
I got my wife pregnant with the next.

POEM:

Our four children, all boys,

It happened in a metal drum.


They put me there, my family

Are the joy of my manhood, my proof.

Cousins who never shed their masks

Who drowned somewhere in a dream many dreams

Play them for all their snot and grime.

ago.

Another child is on the way.

I see her at night with bubbles

I have stopped caring what it will be.

Springing like flowers from her nose.

Water is still a problem and the drum

She is dying and before she sinks I try to touch

Is still there, deep and rusty.

Her open face. But the water learns

The bathroom has been roofed over with plastic.

To heal itself and closes around her like a wound.

Scrubbed and clean, my wife knows I like things.

I should feel sorry but I drown myself in gin before

She follows, though sometimes a pighead she is.

I can. Better off dead, I say to myself

It does not hurt to show who is the man.

And my family that loves me for my bitter breath.

A woman needs some talking sense into. If not,

We die to rise to a better life.

I hit her in the mouth to learn her.


Every time, swill drips from her shredded lips.
I drink with my uncles who all agree.
They should because tonight I own their souls
And the bottles they nuzzle like their prides.
While they boom and boom flies whirr
Over their heads that grew them. Though nobody
Remembers, I sometimes think of the girl

ANALYSIS:

Why CONVERSION?
o Dahil dun sa tubig= baptized
Lots of allusionBakit TUBIG SA DRUM?
o dahil daw natatanggal yong dumi sa
katawan
o oldest form of torture
o sets situation

You might also like