Bring on the PiNoise, Bring on the Funk

As Miss Saigon's infamous Eurasian pimp croons with greasy glee, "What's that I smell in the air?...the American Dreeeeam...?" [L: Leo Valdez as the Enginner in the Australian production of Miss Saigon, a role originated by Jonathan Pryce. See ALOTR sistah, eLBee's brilliant forthcoming work on Pin@y performers in MS].

This spring and summer offered payback, redemption, emergence, embarrassment, call it what you will, for all the Pinoys and Pinays who've spent their careers playing other shades of yellow and brown on stage and screen as Vietnamese (Miss Saigon), Puerto Ricans (West Side Story), Mexicans (you name it), Chinese (everything we weren't Mexican in), Siamese (The King and I), "etcetera, etcetera, etcetera." And like every other red-blooded and washboard ab'ed American somewhere out there (as sung by our totem immigrant animal, Fievel), our 15 minutes of unadulterated fame and shame came courtesy of that great equalizer, our nation's most beloved [artificial] organ of democracy: Reality TV.

Sure, we've been on the ballot as Idols before. Sadly, Ramiele "Lullaby" Malubay's appeal this season proved in the end, to be more Velasco than Trias. Kaba Modern also rocked the vote on America's Best Dance Crew, though they ultimately fell to an all-male crew appropriately dubbed Status Quo. Despite Ramiele's early demise, and KMs dubious ABDC knockout, nobody rode the reality format like we did this truncated TV season.

In 2008 we were top chefs and line cooks, as well as sexy, short(y) dancers for the street and stage. For good measure we also served dutifully as domestic helpers (aka maids) for MILFy, witchy, real NYC countesses (aka smooth-skinned white chicks who managed to marry old guys into the title). Yes, we're talking to you MRS. deLesseps.

In the end, we proved we could be just as bitchy, cloying, sinister, sexist, whiny, annoying, crazy beautiful and Made-for-TV REAL as anybody out there. So in honor of this summer's small screen Brownout, here's our roll call of 2008 Kababayan TeeVee All Starz:

Rosanna on The Real Housewives of NYC (Bravo).
She may look straight outta central casting with her transition lenses, no-nonsense 'do, and nylon jacket, but Rosanna is no Rosario. As her lapels betray, hers is NOT a Members Only jacket. This sartorial misrecognition has resulted in several blogs mistakenly referring to Rosanna as "Mexican or Latina". Though the Countess works her as hard as Karen rides the Salvi Rosario on Will & Grace, Rosanna has emerged as the classiest and bravest bitch on Bravo's latest reality spin-off. With a true Tita-licious note of concern in her voice, Rosanna refuses to mince words about Countess LuAnn's absenteeism as a mom. Neither will she indulge the deLesseps kids' "silly" desires to "hang out all day in a deli." We're left with little doubt as to who, in LuAnn's words, really "manages the operations" at the deLesseps's tony townhouse. Rosanna offers Tough Tita love at its sweet and salty best.

Louross Edralin on Hell's Kitchen (Fox)
HK's most recently eliminated cook (dare we call them chefs?) was Scrappy Doo incarnate: a pugnacious, "lemme at 'em" li'l guy. Like his other, more ample, dunderheaded Blue Team brethren, he refused to take orders from the requisite "bossy black lady" in the kitchen, Jen. Tsk. Tsk. Worse than that, this hotel cook from Las Vegas was eliminated for failing to cook steaks at the proper temperature. Frustrated, he proclaimed he hated filet mignon. What kind of Pinoy are you, dude?!? His terrible mistakes on the line and off, however, don't excuse Corey, the resident blonde beeotch for making cruel remarks about his diminutive stature after she "seduced" him in the HK hot tub: "He's seriously, like, 4ft tall, I'm like 6ft tall...it's not happening." For that alone Louross deserves a special Magno Rubio prize.

Michelle "Mochi" Camaya on Step it Up and Dance (Bravo)
As little as Louross, but needless to say far more graceful, Mochi is this Elizabeth Berkeley vehicle's resident tiny dancer. A pocket-sized diva whose day job is dancing as a "gazelle" and "lioness" (among other animal roles) in the Broadway production of The Lion King, she's had victory snatched from her lithe, outstretched paws in the last two challenges leading up to this week's grand finale. Clearly the fagacious judge, director-choreographer, Vincent Patterson, and his hagacious counterpart, choreographer-director and self-described "mentor," Nancy O'Meara, both harbor crushes on Nick Drago, one of three guys in the final 4 competing against Mochi. This hairy, Yaminian bit of Manwich (to use one of O!I's keywords) has barely bested Mochi in the last 2 contests. Look for "Moach" (as her competitors call her) to take the title and $100,000 prize this Thursday. As her teary-eyed "it's my turn" homecoming video reveals, she's more fired up than ever. If she wins, we're cracking open the Red Horse, and cranking up the volume on Angela Bofill's "This Time I'll be Sweeter" (the duet version with Sharon Cuneta).

Dale Talde on Top Chef (Bravo)
On his Bravo bio, Dale declares his love for dry aged Kobe beef and claims that "cooking meats is one of his favorite things to do in the kitchen. The technique that goes into properly searing and basting a rack of lamb or steak shows a lot of love." Take THAT, Louross. His comfort food is Kare-Kare, a rich peanuty oxtail stew that is also one of my faves. He made Halo-Halo for two separate challenges this season. And he was eliminated in 6th place during the "Restaurant Wars" episode for making butterscotch scallops. What guest judge, Tony Bourdain, and TC's panel of regulars failed to realize is that Dale must've dredged that recipe up from the bottom of his Lola's purse: every Pinay grandmother has a handful of linty butterscotch candies in her bag at all times. So why, despite our eHarmoniousness, don't I feel a bromance coming on?!? I've tried to resist buying into all the obvious comparisons with last season's winner, Hung Huynh. Sure he's a cocky Asian guy who thinks he's a culinary god, but that's not the only reason I've refused to receive Dale with "Open Arm" (to summon the voice of Smog Cutter KJ, Jan).

Maybe his stew-room rage reminds me too much of my own outbursts when confronted with stressful situations like driving in L.A., especially since I quit smoking. Or maybe I'm just feeling the lady energy this season.

Both Stephanie (who looks like she could be Evangeline Lilly's curvier sister), and single-mom Antonia, make my stomach swoon, and I'm pulling for one of them to be the first lady ever to take home the title of Top Chef. (Tiffani Faison won a TC holiday special, as reported here on O!I this winter, but she did not receive the Top Chef title for that single episode skirmish). Let's really get it done, grrrrls, for Josie Smith-Malave, my fave Pin@y ever to strut through the TC kitchens. A contestant from season 2, Josie was hate-crimed (or "homophobically harassed" to use less controversial lingo) by a bunch of liquored up dudes last Labor Day in Long Island. Honestly, all of the subtle jabs at the dykes in the TC house this season, some courtesy of the languid, odious, hat-adorned hipster, Spike, as well as Dale's agro rivalry with the grumpy butch, Lisa, have made me want to take back the night in a badass Butchlalis way--despite my own distaste for Lisa's 'tude as well as food:


In the end, dear readers, cultural nationalism and ethnic affinity can only go so far (like I need to tell *you* all that Ethnic Studies 101 stuff). But in skool as it is in fashion, the basics always bear repeating. As queer scholars have been arguing for awhile now, visibility in and of itself is not an endgame. In fact, it can lead precisely to our own surveillance and subjugation. But what I hope to have celebrated here with our Kababayan roll call, is the stew-y mess that bubbles up with representation--from seeing and hearing versions of ourselves in public spheres more often than we're used to. So raise your Red Horse for the tingles as well as the fears, the attraction and repulsion, the disavowal as well as the embrace, and most of all, for the enduring loves and transient affairs that ensue when we encounter these renditions of ourselves--these oddly estranged, yet familiar versions of us that inevitably fail to meet our expectations by always exceeding them. (KT)