Apo Caesar and the Princesses

Note: This posting was originally on my Pukengkeng Liberation Blog but I've moved it here, because I thought it would be a better, more appropriate place for these reflections on family, home, and mothering.

This is my dad and my daughter on a recent trip to Disney World. I thought I would post this here as a tribute to both of them- powerful forces in my life. We took this photo at Epcot, waiting to meet Cinderella and other princesses at what Disney calls "character dining". My father had just given Malaya a surprise crown as we were waiting in line.


While I have my own ambivalence about the whole Disney thing and the way that industry projects narrow images and fantasy templates of girls and women, there is something about this photo that I love. Malaya has this big smile on her face-looking directly at the lens. My father has a faint smile on his face-almost like an awareness that he had just given a gift that would make both his granddaughter and daughter happy; although, he looks as if he's not sure what to do with that. It's a photo that shows an element of softness to him and it rounds out the other firm and resolute Igorot chief/Navy chief images in my mind. As the observer to the moment in its making, I felt completed in an odd way, because it created a feeling of being connected to a man that I once thought in the distant past, I could never authentically relate to.

I think all little girls as well as adult daughters want to be cherished, listened to, and honored by the important men in their life. They want authentic connection- to know that they have been heard, and fully considered. They want to be loved-not necessarily on a pedestal- but for who they are, completely. But as many know from experience, this human need is not met and becomes what some call a father hunger.


For myself, taking on the shadows of this father-daughter relationship has been important for growth. I am beginning to understand more clearly how and why I react in certain ways to men and/or authority when I feel like I have not been heard. And I am able to identify the specific ways in which that trigger rises in my body, noticing the quality of fighting and/or fleeing that comes up at a particular time. This awareness is a liberation practice. One in which, I know I must practice more often. While my father and I, for various reasons, have walked a bumby road in the past, there has been some forgiveness, compassion, and acceptance extended. The photo and writing about it for me, delivers a certain healing and a returning full circle.

It's a moment for Apo Caesar and his princess(es) that I'll always remember.