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The Interns of F2K15.
Ten weeks. Thats all you get from the Pilipino American Collegiate Endeavor Internship Program & honestly, its some of the best and most inspiring ten weeks of your life. You can ask anyone all the way from Fall 2001’s Kayumanggi to Spring 2015’s Working on Excellence; you don’t get an experience like PACE’s internship program anywhere else in your entire college career. Trust me, coming from a person who has done many leadership, community, and political organizations, you get more than just 3 units under the ethnic studies department.
Being a fourth year, I wasn’t sure if it was even worth it to partake in the Internship Program through PACE because I felt I was too old to relearn all of the lessons that have been taught by PACE & the community in the past. Boy was I wrong – again, open heart, open mind. No matter if you’re fresh out of high school or about to graduate from SF State, anyone is encouraged to do internship if you want to gain an experience that is worth a life time. When kore members and past interns say that you gain a family through your internship, its true. You gain a home away from home within PACE; you build a better sense of kammunity; you become as one whole internship that struggles together.
Internship relates to home in so many ways. When people reflect on their time as an intern, they think of how different they were before and after they’ve completed the ten week program. Something about being stuck in a room with the same people three times a week for ten weeks does something to you all. Although you do grow individually, you also grow as a group. You play on each others’ strengths and learn each others’ weaknesses. You struggle together in order to find the deeper meanings behind the lessons that you are taught. You gain a family through the experiences that only you share within each other, and you share what knowledge you’ve gained to the entire community, not being afraid to grow within the community as well as letting the community grow along side you.
My time as an intern has given me so much inspiration for whats to come in the future. Speaking to past interns, you gain a sense of their leadership and why they stuck around to be involved within PACE and the Filipina/o community. One central lesson that is taught to everyone that comes through PACE and its internship is you get out what you put in which rings true for everything that you are a part of. PACE & your interns only become a part of your home if you immerse yourself in the community and make it a part of your home. I highly encourage anyone who is thinking about interning to find the time to do it because not only is it a rewarding experience, its an experience thats ONE for the books.
FilGrad Memoir: Message from the Co-Editor
By Daniel Mariano
With the arrival of May, we have also reached the final stretch of the 2014-2015 academic year. For me personally, I’ve reached the final stages of my time as a college student. I would like to give my sincerest thanks to everyone who contributed to Kaisahan Balita and played a hand in helping revive this old PACE program. Despite the hurdles we had to jump over, we managed to set the foundation for what I hope will be a successful newsletter going forward that will go beyond PACE and involve other organizations as well. It’s been an honor collaborating with my newsletter staff every month in order to produce a quality product for the community to read. I’m incredibly thankful to everyone that was involved with this collaborative effort in any capacity, whether it was as a writer or a loyal reader. This endeavor wouldn’t have been possible without your support and my hope is that the work that we’ve done in the last few months will set the stage for a thriving program in the future.
Growing up, college always felt like a pipe dream and I completely different world from what I was capable of ever hoping to reach. I’m not the type of person to really plan my life ahead of time. I didn’t even think I’d make it through the nightmare world that was being a teenager in high school. With my short temper, I fully expected my high blood pressure to kill me before I ever got my diploma. But I didn’t die and I got my diploma. Going to SF State afterwards was nothing more than a whim due to it being the only college I managed to actually get into until CSU East Bay gave me I admission the day of graduation (which I rejected out of spite).
As it turned out, coming to SF State changed my life. Joining the Pilipino American Collegiate Endeavor (PACE) and later the League of Filipino Students (LFS-SFSU), helped me become aware of my cultural identity and history as well as real world issues affecting my people both domestically and internationally. Thanks to my experiences both at college and in the greater Filipino American community, I gained a newfound appreciation for my heritage and roots. In addition to the lessons I’ve learned, I also made friendships that helped keep me sane during times when I felt completely alone and unwanted. I’m abundantly grateful for the bonds I’ve made in the last five years and it is my hope that I can touch the lives of others the way my friends have touched mine.
Despite the bad, I had so many tiny, beautiful moments. I met and reconnecting with so many amazing people. Every day and in more ways than I can count. What more could I really want out of so many minutes, days, months, and years? There was another life I could’ve been living. I’m so grateful that I’m living this one instead.
FilGrad Memoir: “Resilience: Our Great Legacy”
By Tobin Galang
Among Filipina/os in the United States, 39% have finished some form of higher education; however, among second, third, and later generation Fil-Am immigrants of age twenty-five or older, only 23.3% have finished a baccalaureate degree (U.S. Bureau of the Census, 1994). Because of institutional racism and so many other obstacles our society poses to bar us from success, we have so little representation in the academic world. In these statistics lie the possibility of change, of upward mobility. For those of us who have made it this far–to be completing this step in our education as we walk the stage at the Filipino Graduation (Fil-Grad) on Sunday, May 24, 2015–as well as for those of us who are striving to find happiness and provide for our loved ones through other avenues, we celebrate our resilience.
As a second-generation immigrant, I share a common life narrative–a bildungsroman of sorts–with many of you regarding our struggle to determine our identities. In struggling, we have undergone substantive education and growth during the two or more decades we have spent matriculating through various educational systems to get to where we are today as members of the Filipina/o American community at San Francisco State. We all chose to pursue more than the standards required to achieve whatever goal is expected of us, such as the courses needed to earn our respective degrees. I took an Asian American Studies course to satisfy my general education requirement for U.S. history. My peers have taken similar routes, such as studying Asian American public policy or literature to satisfy other general education requirements. The more ambitious and passionate among us have taken up minors or even majors in the Asian American Studies department. Many brave and eager students expanded our pursuit of knowledge and fulfillment beyond the classroom by joining any of the six Filipina/o American organizations on campus, which now comprise the Mula Sa Ugat alliance. We did this in an effort to know our history, to know ourselves, for, without knowledge of this history, we lack a fundamental understanding of the material, societal, and cultural conditions into which we were born. After two years of membership in San Francisco State’s Pilipino American Collegiate Endeavor (PACE), taking part in Pil-Harmonix a cappella choir and Pilipino Cultural Night (PCN), I decided it was time to take a more active role in PACE’s organizational work. I applied for both PCN Inner Sanctum and Fil-Grad Board. I wanted to assume some responsibilities in these two programs to find and make personal meaning in celebrating our cultures, our successes, and our resilience.
It has been a humbling experience to have worked this semester on Fil-Grad Board with such inspiring leaders of organizations within the Mula Sa Ugat alliance, among them former PACE coordinators Justin Ramos, Nate Pati, and Andrew Kalt, who is also pledge dad for Chi Rho Omicron, as well as Athina Leyba and Maxine Soriano, president and pledge mom of Kappa Psi Epsilon’s Beta Chapter. I have also had the honor of working closely with Daniel Mariano who is also a leader in several of PACE’s programs, such as PCN, Kaisahan Newsletter, and, of course, Fil-Grad. Lastly, so many of our meetings and photoshoots might not have been possible without the help of Emily Enriquez, our board’s shadow and former (and potentially future) PACE coordinator.
I want to thank my mentor and choral director, Kris Cruz, my ate Nadine Macaraeg and the rest of my family in PACE’s Kuya Ate Program, my STRIVE PACE Internship of Fall 2014, the League of Filipino Students’ SFSU chapter, the respective casts and choreographers of the forty-first, forty-second, and forty-third PCNs, and KOREvolution for helping me grow as a Filipino American individual and for fostering in me an education in which I can take pride. I hope to use the lessons you have all taught me as a platform from which I can enact positive changes in our community.
Mine is only one story of resilience which we will celebrate two Sundays from now. There are almost seventy more graduates whose struggles and victories we will praise. On Sunday, May 24, at 5pm in GYM 100, I encourage you to be part of our graduation and bear witness to song, dance (both folk and contemporary), spoken word, and inspiring keynote speeches. Together, we will reaffirm and celebrate our community’s resilience.
FilGrad Memoir: Coming of Age
By Ambergrace Castro
Graduation.
The years turned into months, the months turned into weeks, and finally all of a sudden the realization, “Whoa, I just finished my last giant college essay” or “I’m done with my last presentation.” This is it.
In the Liberal Studies program we have to create an online portfolio of all of the work we’ve done for our major, including our papers, our projects, and reflect on everything. Then we present it.
I can’t even explain the flutter in my heart as I spoke about my journey remembering all of the work put in, the sleepless nights, the sweet satisfaction of completion. I’m honestly in awe of how everything has fallen into place. I regret nothing.
Rather than a really emotional sad/bittersweet story, I want this final memoir to be dedicated to the friends I leave behind, to people who aren’t quite done with college or are simply completely unsure of where they are.
This is what I learned in college.
1. Be Gentle with yourself.
My journey wasn’t short. I’m seven years from when I graduated from high school, but I honestly believe this wasn’t a journey I was meant to speed through. Seven years (and three majors) later, I struggled through mistakes, through falling behind and not feeling good enough to finish. I think every college kid has asked, “Is this even worth it?” Or they’ve said something like, “I’m not like this person or that person” and it sucks to say that robs us of so much strength.
It wasn’t until I had peace with myself did I find confidence in choosing my career path.
It wasn’t until I learned to love myself and speak to myself the way someone who cared about me would. After that, even the worst days pass, and suddenly everything you stressed about was actually never worth beating yourself up over.
2. Open heart, open mind.
I learned this best while being a part of PACE. When I joined internship truthfully I struggled with opening myself up to new ideas that challenged my beliefs. But the more I listened to everyone else’s stories, the more I realized the importance of having and open heart and open mind. It didn’t change who I was, it only added to the person I am becoming by letting other people into my life. It allowed me to be ready for anything or anyone different and even we disagreed, our hearts and minds would become richer because of it. For me that was real education.
3. Never underestimate the power of hard work.
By the end of college this is all I hope I’ve gained is a better work ethic. After a while you can’t just be the kid that never goes to class or never does work. There’s no reward in that. You can’t be the kid that just takes easy classes. There’s no merit in that. I’m so grateful for the few professors that pushed me to the limit with what I didn’t feel capable of doing. There comes a point where you seriously can’t half-ass anything anymore. When it comes to dreams that you didn’t think could be possible (as cliché as that sounds) real successful people make that happen. Not by wishing or hoping or only posting quotes, they do every small necessary sacrifice for their goals. Finding the beauty in working hard is probably the most necessary part. Without the inspiration or the conviction to strive for something greater than ourselves, then we’ll always make excuses. I hope whoever is paralyzed by any fear, the irrational feelings, and all the dry spells, finds the strength to remember the picture.
4. It’s better to light one candle, than to curse the darkness.
This is my bigger picture. I’ve loved that every part of this “coming of age” experience was that it was about more than just a piece of paper. I’ve loved learning that the more introspective I had to be, the more I needed to be more about others. College taught me to not just do what I can to get a job and be successful. It taught me to function as a kind human in a harsh reality.
I’ve learned a million other things being in college, but aside from how to do research and format my paper to something other than MLA, all I want to express is gratitude. It’s a bittersweet feeling to be at the end, but I hold on to the fact that it’s hardly the beginning for me. Thank you friends and family for being my guiding light over years. And finally, cheers all you fellow graduates! Change the world. You have the power to do it.
INGAT PCN 45
Imprints
By Michael Nicer
So-re-weh, tutu-ah
Om-cha-che, sor-re-weh,
Umbe, umbe, umbe, ooooom, um-be-um…
So began the Cordillera Suite with Budong: a peace treaty between the chieftains of five tribes: the Kalinga, the Benguet, the Bontoc, the Ifugao, and the Itneg. Displays of strength, of power, of gratitude toward the gods were expressed by each leader. Each one had a unique character and move, all expressed with strength and gravitas.
Following the end of their accords, a triumphant yell rang out in unison amongst them. Uyaoy followed suit. The men and women of high status within the tribes came out of the wings. Energy and vibrant joy projected outward like fire from the spout as the men traveled across the marley floors. Like hawks and eagles, they swooped and trotted, scratched the dirt, and took flight. Their wives and daughters followed after them, displaying their status and heritage proudly through aloof stances and the striking motion of their hands. All in accord with a celebration of life, of thanks to the sun, the earth, the rain, the skies, and the forests.
I swear on all the higher powers that when I entered my cue for that dance after the four-note cue, I gave every last inkling of effort and joy into that dance for both the matinee and gala shows. I shuffled my feet for the travel as I should have. Every lunge was pronounced, and I laid low when I needed too. I kept awareness of the space between me and others and adjusted accordingly. My transitions held as much strength as any other move, and when I sang and gave my last resounding yell at the end, I put enough force into my voice to make it nearly crack. I hoped with all my heart that the ancestors of my father’s blood from all the way back in Benguet and Baguio would have been made proud by my presence on stage.
The suite was a window into the culture of the tribes of the northern mountains, only five minutes long. Five minutes that will never happen again. Five amongst the two hours and thirty minutes that will stay in my heart forever. Five minutes that marked the end of a journey four years in the making.
———
Backtrack to three years ago, in the budding months of the spring of 2011, on the day of performance for the 40th PCN production, “Dahil Sa ‘Yo.” I had no idea of what PCN meant to its participants and why it was one of PACE’s most distinguished and discussed programs. I had no understanding of its purpose. My involvement was minimal, only singing songs for Pilharmonix during the beginning anthems and a funerary song near the end of the production. To me, PCN was just another production of mostly dance elements, with the majority of my time spent fooling around in the dressing room waiting for the cues in which Pilharmonix would come up again to sing. Two shows, twelve hours, zero meaning.
It wasn’t until I sat in the audience on the day of performance that I was able to see why people kept coming back to participate, to lose their sleep and their time to the span of a couple hours on the stage. When Modern took the guise of soldiers as they stomped to the beat, the men of Cordillera prowl the stage to hunt armed to the teeth, and the women of the B’lit B’laan trot with grace, right then and there I told myself: “You need to join a dance. You want the full experience of PCN, to understand why people keep coming back for five-hour practices and crunching in time? Dance.” I was inspired by their energy and drive, and I wanted to be a part of that. Through their art, they sought to preserve the colors of cultures and times in danger of fading.
Fast-forward two years to PCN 42: “Para Sa Aming Lahat.” I auditioned for Modern and Maria Clara, inspired by the experience two years prior. Modern was a fail, to put it simply, when I was going against veterans of the dance company scene. Going to the Maria Clara auditions the day after was an act of desperation, a last-ditch attempt to get a chance to be on stage. Attending the workshop already gave me fear of not making the cut. I was never gifted with an aptitude for technical details, and the many details needed to make a clean dance–straight back, hard angles, relaxed shoulders, all while grasping castanets that clacked on the upbeat in triplets faster than the downbeat–further reinforced the idea that I would not be able to pass. As best I could, I kept a straight back and a proper posture through the entire audition, changing levels and stances as I performed the sample piece. No indication of approval or disappointment in my steps displayed itself on the instructor’s face by its end. Ooh, the nerves.
Imagine my surprise when a week later, I saw my name amongst the few chosen to participate in Panderetas. The weeks that followed were some the most enjoyable I’ve had since I first started, mainly because for the first time ever, I was going to dance in a PCN production. As the weeks went on and I learned more of Panderetas, I quickly caught on that the tone and the steps of the dance was a bittersweet reminder of both the colorful grace of the Spanish culture and their merciless destruction of non-European cultures. Despite that grim reminder, I felt immense pride when the time came to finally perform the dance on stage, in part because of the blood that ran through my mother’s veins, from my great-grandmother’s side. I felt that if she were alive, she might have felt some pride that her great-grandson was continuing the old ways…at least, as much as her Spanish upbringing would have let her, which meant only the slightest show of pleasure from a stiff upper lip. Nevertheless, all the days spent practicing the moves, the blocking, the strain on my shoulders and back were worth it, to have such a feeling resonate through heart and mind.
——-
This year’s production was the one which I had the most involvement in and the one I can admit to having the most pride and joy in. I took on the role of Jason, one of the members of Kapit Kamay and one-time doubter in Elly’s cause of opposing Mani Santos’s corrupt regime. I finally got into Modern, taking the role of a political prisoner, with all the sadness and longing for freedom implied in movement. I auditioned for the Cordillera suite, the one part of the whole PCN experience that above all else I had wanted to get into since the first day. The intensity, the power, and warrior character drew me in. Wearing a bahag was the cherry on top.
Two hours every Tuesday eventually gave way to five hours for every day during both Hell Weeks. Workshops turned into run-throughs. Instructions on moves progressed to clean-ups and blocking. Next thing I knew, it was already the eighteenth of April. Three months and two Hell Weeks already passed by. I endured scheduling conflicts, arguments with my mom over academic priorities, attendance issues for weekend practices, and lost sleeping time to get to this point. The night before felt so far away. Fear and excitement ran through my blood, both for the self-imposed expectation of nailing my lines and for nailing the moves I learned for both of my dances.
A meager breakfast and two acting scenes later, I came in to the dressing room to see that the Uyaoy guys were getting tattoos on their bodies with Sharpies to reinforce their warrior characters. Baby powder and hairspray would act as a finish to give the tattoos an aged finish and resistance against body sweat. In times long past, tattoos were believed to hold great power and immense spiritual significance. For the Kalinga, eagles were given to the headhunters, defenders of their way of life and bane to both rival tribesman and Japanese soldier. Centipede and python scale motifs were common motifs amongst both men and women’s bodies. It was believed that the two predatory animals, according to the accounts of Lars Krutak, were “friends of the warriors” and directly linkedto the creator god Kabunian. Those who held his markings would be under his protection.
Seeing each of my dancemates work on each other’s tattoos warmed my heart. We came this far, learning the steps and correct form for the last three months, and our diligence and study was going to be put to the test. I took it upon myself to imprint some designs on Patrick and touch up Jason, AC, and Eleazar’s tattoos before my own, knowing that my artist background would give me the necessary precision and control to get a clean finish. While most were getting tattoos like that of the various Polynesian islands, I did my best to stay true to the traditional Kalinga style, following the specific markings and lines to the letter. If my dancemates were going to take on the roles of Kalinga tribesmen, then they better look the part. I was so dedicated to it that I didn’t get tattoos of my own until the gala show.
Halfway through the day, right before the start of the gala show, a sense of melancholy began to hang over my head when all the cast members gathered within the main dressing room. This is the last time I would be getting on the stage to act and dance, not only for this semester, but for my whole college term itself. As Logan marked my skin in the hours before gala, I reflected over the memories that led up to that day. Providing rides for Jason and Chris from the campus to their house a few blocks up the street. Gushing about Game of Thrones with Ally and Brittina. Going hella dumb with Karl, Ryan, and Jeric in the hallway next to the Pit while waiting for my scenes to come up. Ryan helping me understand technical details about the moves CC taught us for Modern. Hearing AC joke incessantly, near the point of making Kim impose pushups on the rest of the boys. Going to In-n-Out with Jeannel, Brandon, Marichel, Kai, Tobin, Lordgin, and Irene. All of those moments and more.
The gala show would be the last time I cheer my cast members on, The last time I acted a line or gave life to a character. The last time I would bow at a curtain call. The last time I would ever hear of “PCN withdrawals” or “Hell Weeks.” I regretted not putting in more time to certain dances, not getting enough time to make the poster props, not coming in on time more, even missing out mere minutes or hours being around my cast mates more, not getting to know some of them better. Hell, I regretted not staying longer to clean up, leaving early to bring my folks home, or to take the last KAP family photo I’ll ever have at State.
The tattoos drawn on my left deltoid did more than just reinforce a warrior character. It was a reminder of what PCN stood for and what it aimed to do: preserve the history and vibrant heritage of the Philippines’s numerous peoples while raising awareness of the issues that endanger them. The Kalinga designs led me, through curiosity and related Google links, to learn about the endangerment logging and mining corporations are imposing upon the Cordillera regions. I remember hearing how members of the League of Filipino Students said that “Kapit Kamay” was what PCNs should be. The political aspect of it was what should set it apart from just an ordinary dance production. The tattoo served as a microcosm of the link between past and present, something that, by my being here along with everyone elses, resonated with the meaning behind the title of Kapit Kamay. A reminder of that eternal phrase: “We stand on the shoulders of those who came before us.”
The tattoo was also the link my heart and soul shared with everyone I had ever interacted with in the production. The ink has faded now, designs no longer legible as the dead skin on which it bonded to scatters from abrasion with my clothes. In another week, the tattoo will have all but vanished. No matter. Its memory and what it stood for will protect me from doubts about how much I care about my culture. A constant reminder and a tie that binds, through both time and space, from the first anthems sung on the stage four years ago to the moment shared on that stage just weeks ago.
To KORE, Inner Sanctum, the instructors, and to everyone else:
Words cannot begin to express my thanks.
Words still fail now,
to express my sadness
at leaving such a wonderful experience.
Return Home
By Jordan Ilagan
With the end of PCN comes a mix of emotions. Bittersweet tears of pride, happiness, relief, blend in with sadness and longing. The return to the “Pre-PCN” life is a shock unlike anything else, especially after the long hours of practice that come with the infamous “PCN Hell Week.” As one of the scriptwriters that worked from August to the end of November to create Kapit Kamay, I say thank you.
With unprecedented media coverage and a new wave of expectations that came alongside that,the pressure was on to set the standard to deliver. Kasamas from Anakbayan and other organizations that I work with posted the Balitang America link constantly. With the words “This is what a PCN should be,” ringing through social media before the show even happened, the pressure was on. We knocked it out of the park.
A script carefully crafted from a mixture of my experiences on a Philippine exposure trip combined with Jerico’s genius storytelling worked hand in hand (all puns intended). Education and storytelling is a balance that every PCN aspires to have, if the balance is not there then the entire show gets thrown off. Writing a PCN also presents the unique challenge of weaving cultural and modern dances, a task that would be impossible without the help of the dance companies that helped us.
Thank you to the actors that helped bring our work to life. Jerico and Nadine worked and drilled everyone to be performance ready in such a short amount of time. Without them, the script would merely be ink on paper, but you all brought so much life into the script that what happened on stage was nothing short of magical.
Special thank you goes out to my co-scriptwriting tag team partner, Jerico Deguzman. Thanks for putting up with my insanity, especially when I was fresh off of my exposure trip. Thank you for making the script writing process much smoother than I imagined. Your passion for innovation and creative storytelling helped push me to do the same. If it was just me writing the script, the story would be nowhere as good as it was when we wrote it together. Like you always say, “There will never be another 43, no other show will be like ours.” We pushed PCN to new heights and raised the bar for everyone who watched it.
Like the plane ride back to the US from a summer in the Philippines, like the series finale to your favorite TV show, we can finally close this chapter of PCN 43. For those of you who choose the Road to 44, leave your hearts on that stage. It is a road of madness, tears, sweat, and laughter, but an experience that I wouldn’t trade for the world. Until next time, padayon brothers and sisters. Continue to defend your cultural heritage.
Lights, Camera, Showtime, Withdrawals
By Lordgin Savella
SFSU PCN 43: Kapit Kamay is now added to the history books. It’s been one hell of a roller coaster of emotions throughout this whole experience. Putting long hours of our blood, sweat, and tears into these practices, sleepless nights, trying to perfect dances, rushing to finish homeworks before and after practice, and simply just bonding with one another made such a memorable 43rd PCN.
As Barangay choreographer Jonathan Tioseco says, “you’re only as good as your last performance.“ With that being said, we began our “hell weeks”. Knowing that I was in seven dances this year as well as a member of PilHarmonix, I knew that the word “hell” would be turn out to be relevant to me. We found ourselves having practices everyday from 5-11 and even later as we delved into the first hell week. As a second time PCN participant, I already knew the ropes of hell week: meet, stretch, practice, boom, we call it a night. Dedication was absolutely key when it came to surviving hell week. No matter how frustrated and tired everyone was, myself included, that didn’t stop us from practicing to prove to our choreographers that we were ready.
As the second hell week began, we knew that this had at long last reached the final stretch with only days before our show. There was no more room for mistakes, only improvements. It was unfortunate how we were only able to rehearse in McKenna for the last three days before our show, but we managed to make every practice count as if we were already performing on stage. I have to admit, I was super stressed during this week because we did actual full rehearsals of the show on stage. In costume. With music. FULL OUT. I was all over the place. Going from dance to dance, quick changes, and simply just sweating my makeup off, it was hell week, alright. As each day went on closer to showtime, I saw how much hard work was being put into everyone’s dances. I knew for a fact that I would be running around during the show, but I know that it will all be worth it in the end.
In what felt like a blink of the eye, April 18 had finally arrived. It was finally PCN day. Honestly, it still didn’t hit me that PCN was in 5 hours upon waking up that morning. I took a shower, got my makeup done, and made my way to McKenna. I’m usually a morning person, but apparently not this day. I felt that it was just a normal full dress rehearsal, but earlier in the morning. Everyone’s makeup was on fleek, hair looking great, and everyone looked stage ready. It finally hit me, when the anthems were introduced to the audience and all I heard was pure cheering and clapping. With the light shining on PilHarmonix, that’s when I knew it was show time. Looking over the show, I pinpointed everything that I messed up on, but regardless of that being said, I was still able to stay in character and portray the suites. After the matinee show, I decided to go out and greet my friends that attended this earlier showing, along with my ex. It was a bit awkward, but I mean, I’m glad he came out and supported me. Anyways… first show is now done, and we had a 5 hour gap. Many of the cast used it to go out and eat, catch up on sleep, but as for me and the Moro suite, we practiced the dances again, just to make sure we are all on the same page which went on till about 4. After our practice, we were starving, so we rushed all around the area to buy some food right before our call time for the gala show.
Then, call time happened, and we prepared. Once again, showtime: gala edition. After running through matinee, I knew what I needed to work on towards a better performance. I felt more prepared than I was for the matinee showing and I knew that since there will be more people in the audience that I know will be supporting and cheering me on, I didn’t want to disappoint. This time, I was more nervous than ever. The gala show was when I had my solo, Pindulas. Prior to the gala show, I was in the hallways practicing my knee walks, runs, and spins. Honestly, I was getting frustrated because for once I couldn’t do it. I don’t know if at the time it was the nerves or what, but I was out of it. Luckily my solo was after intermission, so I was able to see my loved ones and get the encouragement that I needed so I can believe in myself to perform Pindulas. I was only able to take pictures with my family and friends at that time because I knew that I had to help out and clean up the theater after the show.
My heart raced as I make my way to blackout where the spotlight will be cast over me and my dance partner. As the light goes on, and the music begins, I was in complete focus. Though I messed up, what I was most worried about but definitely proud of was my knee walks, runs, and spins. As I began to start my knee walks and runs, I hear nothing but my name being cheered in the crowd which gave me the strength the pull it off. I couldn’t have been more proud of that performance. Thanks to those that cheered me on!
Although this was only my second time doing PCN, I don’t think these withdrawals compare to last year’s. All that hard work definitely paid off with the three months we had with one another. I can say that this cast really became a family to me. I feel as if those that I’ve known prior to PCN, I’ve made closer bonds with, and those who I’ve met only this year, I think we’ve made some strong bonds as well- especially with this year’s Moro Suite (Pindulas, Kinakulangan, and Singkil). With meeting two times a week with each other, I can say that we definitely became a family. We even would make it a routine to go eat out after practice and then study in the library. There have also been a few adventures and potlucks here and there. These things brought our friendship closer together. PCN is such a growing experience with your culture, your friends, and yourself. I already miss it. I’m definitely looking forward to next year’s show!
This year’s cast is one to remember. No matter how many times we felt like we weren’t trying hard enough, we were always there to reassure one another that we’re doing the absolute best we can. Without the amount of support, love, passion, and strong friendships that I’ve built in this year’s PCN, I know for a fact I wouldn’t be mentally stable the last 2 weeks before the show. You know who you guys are. I can’t thank you enough for everything you’ve helped me achieve in this journey. But most importantly, I’d like to thank my mom and dad, for always supporting me. I’m so glad that they were able to yet come again and drive 6 hours to see me perform on stage. I love you all so much.
After planning this year’s PCN for 8 months alongside Inner Sanctum, I can’t believe it’s finally come to an end. We’ve put in so much for this show, and it’s sad to say that we won’t be working together anymore. We’re a whole other family that put on such a great production. Thank you for allowing me to be a member of such dedicated and passionate individuals. To my grand, to everyone’s momma, and to this year’s PCN coordinator, Nadine Ciara Macaraeg, I’m so proud of you. Thank you for all your hard work and support. If it weren’t for you holding us all down and pushing us to work our hardest, we wouldn’t have had what was left on stage. From now on, I’m always going to remember: perform, heart, and purpose. I enjoyed performing dancing this year, especially, Pandangguhan. With the amount of cheering on each other from the wings for the rural suite, who knew that dancing with a glass of wine on your head could be so much fun.
Who I Am, What I’ve Done, and What I Strive to Accomplish as PACE 2015-2016 Kaisahan Coordinator
By Samantha Susa
My involvement with PACE began almost immediately when I came to SFSU as a freshman in Fall 2013. I joined Friendship Games after meeting Michelle Phung and Jacqueline Ip tabling for it at the PACE Open House that fall and participated in all aspects of FG from SPUF to games and Roll Call. I also signed up for internship that fall but was rejected because my schedule was too packed. I participated in the KAP program that fall and picked up an ate, Tawnee Vallar. I was also involved in that year’s PCN production Para Sa Aming Lahat as a dancer for modern, contemporary, and one dance from the Lumad suite Blit Bla’an. The summer of 2014 I interviewed for a position on the following year’s PCN Inner Sanctum and was able to become one of the dance supervisors. I participated in one Maria Clara dance, Jota Intramurena, and two rural dances Bulaklakan and Subli. I also interviewed to be on board for the following Friendship Games’ season and became treasurer. I balanced this position while once again participating in games and SPUF. That fall I was able to get into the internship program for PACE and became a member of STRIVE. I also participated in the KAP program again and became an ate for three adings: Nikki Damian, Ryan Yap, and Richelle Ochoa.
I believe that PACE is capable of so much and with many passionate individuals existing within this organization and new members that are eager and open to learning I feel that we these aspects and not only teach them about their own culture and relevant education as a student but be able to connect them to other organizations within our school as well as outside organizations to be more involved within their community with the knowledge that they learn. Alongside these goals as coordinator, more specifically as Kaisahan Coordinator I would help build relationships with point people from certain organizations that are catered to help youth express their passion for the arts such as Bindlestiff Studio. The arts are such a necessary outlet to all students and its’ thanks to it that students have the space and opportunity to express their talents and tell the world who they are through whatever medium it may be. Every individual has a connection to the arts and thus every individual can express their artistic passion in different ways that are significant to themselves such as music, dance, spoken word, painting, writing and the list goes on and on. These passions run deep within individuals and at the end of the day become the only things that keep us sane and satisfied. When all other aspects of our lives become hectic such as school and personal issues, the arts are what gives us relief and a safe haven. As the Kaisahan coordinator I would aim to present different opportunities for PACE members to express their passion through different forms of art. I want to be able to reshape and build upon existing programs such as Pilharmonix, Rebels for a Cause, Sayawan, and Kaisahan Balita in order to strengthen the way each program is structured to provide a more organized and cohesive space for individuals with certain talents to be able to have an outlet for themselves. As a result of these programs different events would be hosted tohelp them utilize what they’ve learned and provide a space for them to express that and these events could range from anything like an open mic, a talent show, a dance showcase, or even simply giving exposure to visual artists such as painters and graffiti artists.
And it wouldn’t end there. Artwork is boundless and with that I wouldn’t want to restrict their passions to aspects just within PACE. I would give them the resources and opportunities to take what they learned and worked on within PACE and bring it out into our community with outside organizations such as Bindlestiff and the FCC where they would be able to expand their horizons and meet new people to help them grow more within their talents and find different ways of utilizing them to do more for themselves and their community members. and not only outside organizations but also organizations within the school as well since it is important to build and strengthen relationships with our fellow students. With PACE I feel very grateful for what it has given me but I feel that there is so much more that I can do outside of PACE with what I’ve learned and with the passion I’ve gained. Because of this I want members of PACE and outside individuals to know that I’m here to connect them through different forms of art, to help each other grow, and to build relationships in order to strengthen our sense of self identity and community.
Kaisahan Balita - Pilipino American Collegiate Endeavor 