View from where this piece was written.
During an extended stay in Singapore in December 2023, I wandered into the National Gallery and found myself in an exhibit entitled Between Declaration and Dreams: Art of Southeast Asia since the 19th Century, described as an “exploration of 300 artworks to witness how artists grappled with identity, reinvented traditions, and responded to a tumultuous history.” Upon closer inspection, the ‘tumultuous history’ referenced in the description points to colonialism.
Three prominent Illustrados (left to right): Dr. Jose Rizal, Marcelo H. del Pilar and Mariano Ponce, Spain, 1890.
It was here in this exhibit that I first learned of the Illustrados of the Philippines (the “enlightened ones”). As a first generation Filiipina-American with a different educational upbringing, I admit that I feel rather embarrassed that I only discovered the history of the Illustrados in 2023. (Better late than never, diba?)
For those unfamiliar, Illustrados were members of the creative & intellectual class of the Philippines who were educated overseas in Europe. Its most well-known member is Dr. Jose P. Rizal, our national hero. During the Spanish rule of the Philippines, Catholic friars maintained executive and administrative control in the country, including decisions over the education system. To escape censorship, both in their education and their expression, the Illustrados sought intellectual freedom in Europe.
Illustrados brought back what they learned to their home country to educate and empower their people to rise up against their oppressors. They also mobilized with Spanish comrades who believed in their cause. In short, they learned their oppressor’s tools then used it as a weapon for liberation by spreading ideas that awakened national consciousness. It is known that the Illustrados inspired Andres Bonifacio, the leader of the Katipuneros, who led the armed revolt for Philippine independence.
At a time when anti-intellectualism is on the rise and literacy rates in America are in decline, learning and remembering the Illustrados’ legacy feels timely and urgent.
Discovering their history was of particular interest to me because of a shared experience: as a creative professional who pursued higher education in Europe, I too, have acquired experience and perspective that I wish to share with my community to expand their possibilities of who we can be and what we can achieve.
Today, 54% of adults in America read below a sixth grade level. And yet, literacy is foundational to our ability to acquire knowledge, develop socio-economic mobility, discern facts from truth, and engage in critical thinking. It’s no surprise that the quality of both literacy and education has eroded in America: an uneducated, illiterate population is easier to control and manipulate.
Learning about the Illustrados’ history puts this perspective into plain view, confirming it is part of a playbook for domination. And while my journey to discovering and absorbing the history of the Illustrados is just beginning, what I have taken from their journey is this:
Books are precious commodities, and we must treasure them as such. Fill your homes with books, and teach your children a love & appreciation for reading. Literacy is critical to our development as humans, as a society. We MUST keep a reading practice alive, and give ourselves and others books written by women, by people of color, by thinkers who expand our worldviews.
The pen truly is as mighty as the sword. Dr. Rizal never went into combat. Instead, he wrote. His words awakened and ignited rebellion. As Mikaela Acido-Muega writes in The Manila Standard, “Rizal fought a different fight. He didn’t go to war and ‘fight’ in the way most revolutionaries would—with weapons and bloodshed. His was a silent, peaceful, and calm battle. He did not use force, but instead used peaceful methods such as writing literature, creating arts, and focusing on the Filipino culture to stir up the patriotic feelings of everyone.”
As a writer, recognizing this ignited me, long after his death. It made me think that it’s up to us to pick up the pen and continue the story. To fill in the pages, to start a new chapter, and to create a new world as old systems crumble. As artists, it is our duty to interrogate logic and push the thresholds of imagination to birth new visions that are built on ecosystems, instead of empires.
In the last two years watching a genocide unfold on my phone screen, it awakened a rage inside me. As an optimist who aspires to lead with joy, I admit, the rage scared me at first. But when I remember how I felt amongst the paintings and photographs of the Illustrados inside that museum in Singapore, I remembered that this rage inside me isn’t just sacred, it is ancestral. I know in my bones that it is my birthright to honor it.
I am bolstered by the courage, bravery and boldness in which Gen-Z has led protest movements around the world, united in a shared frustration for the impossible costs of living, nepotism, and corruption, most notably in the Philippines. Unifying their local causes with a call for liberation in Palestine signifies a shift in global consciousness, one that is beginning to normalize conversations about the reality of colonialism, racial inequality, and how it all ties to class differences (and the fabric of our global society).
But we must keep paying attention.
Whether or not you identify as Filipino or an artist, my wish is for you to fully embody your intellectual and creative power. Our mission, should we choose to accept it, is to awaken our inner Illustrado in the face of fascism and corruption. To step into the fullness of who we are, to take up space, and to embody the greatness that boils in our bloodlines.
Let’s alchemize this rage to create something new, BOLD, and beautiful together.
LFG,
Ruby
PS. If you still aren’t sure what your role is in the social justice ecosystem, I always love sharing this resource by Deepa Iyer to identify where you and your work fit in the map. Now let’s get into formation…
