Erick Habijan should thank dirty politics for his newfound celebrity.
If people hadn’t removed his campaign posters or put stickers over his face in tarpaulins, he wouldn’t have been forced to print the viral flyers that bannered his #batabagobakla slogan.
“Pinakanasaktan ako doon sa baklasan ng posters,” he recalled. “Baklasan, tapos tatapalan ’yung mukha mo ng sticker. Nainis ako kasi ang mahal kaya nung tarpaulin; P36. So nagdecide ako na hatiin, para mas marami, binili ko ng P18, pinatanggal na naman.
“Ang ganda ko kaya doon sa picture?” he quipped.
That’s when his mother stepped in. “May printing press kasi kami—magpiprint ako ng 10,000 na maliliit na posters, on cardboard, magrerecycle ng cover ng notebooks, at least hindi na masakit sa bulsa.
“Doon nilagay yung ‘Bata, Bago, Bakla,’ at nakita ni [videographer] Jason Magbanua. So, may pinatunguhan yung recycled notebook na ’yon. Binaklas man, online tumatak siya.”
Magbanua, in his post, said: “This I can get behind. Change. For real.” The photo has been widely circulated since then, earning Habijan admiration far beyond District 2 in Marikina City, where he was running for councilor.
That is why Habijan doesn’t consider his recent foray into politics a loss, even though he finished 12th in a position for eight.
“Malulungkot ba ko? Hindi. Hindi ako nanalo, pero ’yung 28,000 votes naman, hindi ’yon maliit,” he told Inquirer Super. “Ang dami ring ibang naka-appreciate.”
Political suicide
Many cautioned him that his slogan could be political suicide. He knew it was a gamble, but that was how he planned to stand out against 21 others.
“Bata, bago, bakla, ’yun ’yung nakita ko… When I reflected, sabi ko, ‘Naku, three negative things.’ But when I looked into it, these are my strengths,” he said. “I’m new but I’m untainted… Handa akong matuto; bagamat idealistic, I’m logical, pragmatic, practical.”
His teammates and parents warned him about using “bakla,” but he pushed through with it. He said much of what he’s become, he owed to being gay and owning it.
“’Yung pagiging bakla ko, it has pushed me to excel in all the fields I got into,” he said. When he was younger, his motivation to stay on top of his class, to be a student leader, to impress, was to be remembered as “bakla pero matalino.”
A valedictorian in his elementary years, he was co-chair of the Fair Committee of Ateneo High School, where he graduated salutatorian. In college, he was the student council representative for his bloc and course, Queen Mother of Dollhouse, the LGBT group of Ateneo. He graduated cum laude.
Erick wants to acknowledge his orientation, too, even though it was stating the obvious. “Once you verbalize a word, you’re proud of it… Whenever I tell—and there is a need for me to tell—that I’m gay, it’s because I’m proud of it.”
In fact, it’s one of the first things he would say when meeting with parents at the Gentle Angel School, an institution they own which offers private education to classes C and D, including children of fish vendors and tricycle drivers.
It only meant he was “totoo,” he had nothing to hide.
On the campaign trail, the response surprised him. “Kahit mga lalaki natutuwa ako kasi sila ’yung unang kumakamay sa akin, sinasabi nila, ‘ang galing mo at nagpapakatotoo kang tao.’”
Erick wasn’t supposed to be the Habijan running for a seat. It was supposed to be his father, currently working for the Department of Education. On the morning of October 14, the elder Habijan was approached with the idea of running; he declined the offer in the evening then informed Erick via phone.
When Erick took the call from his father, he was at the set of “Gandang Gabi Vice” where he works as a writer (he was researcher for the episode featuring President Aquino and wrote the episode where presumptive President-elect Rodrigo Duterte danced the Nae Nae).
A workmate who overheard the conversation Erick was having with his father about running for councilor told everyone else. “The executive producer said, ‘Sige tumakbo ka, ikaw na, keme-keme.’ Everyone else did.”
On Facebook, he posted, “What if I run for councilor? Will you support me?” and got an overwhelming response.
On the morning of October 15, as his mother woke him up for their daily prayer, he said, half-asleep, “Ma, what if ako ’yung tumakbo? Ma, tatakbo ako.”
“Sabi niya, ‘O sige anak bangon ka na. Akala niya tatakbo ako sa sports center,” Erick recalled. When he cleared things up, “Nagbrighten up ’yung face niya, para kong nakita si Mama Mary.”
No. 11 on the ballots
He filed his Certificate of Candidacy on October 16, and soon he was No. 11 on the ballots, championing the youth and LGBT sectors, a Marikina talent guild, free tertiary education in the community college where he once taught, among others.
When he lost, his previous failures cushioned the blow, he said. “Sanay na akong ma-reject. Siguro ito pang-100 na, ’di ba?”
He once resigned from work to apply for a dual degree at the New York University but did not pass. He said he’s never had a boyfriend, and has been “basted” many times.
Before he worked for television, he auditioned for numerous shows, across networks, from “Pinoy Big Brother” to “Philippine Idol.” One time, he was eliminated from the list of potential candidates because his “voice was too manly and he was too gay, so the audience might be confused.”
However, during sorties, he used his singing prowess to delight audiences with anthems like “Bakit Ngayon Ka Lang,” “Ikaw Na Nga,” “Mr. Kupido,” “Kailan.” He also danced, but said he had choreography—“’Yung kay Alma Moreno kasi walang choreography.”
He was the non-traditional candidate, it was clear to him—a pageant fanatic willing to strike a pose (he followed the early episodes of “America’s Next Top Model”), and the social butterfly. But he wasn’t hiding anything and it made him feel so good.
Is he running again? People have approached him to run for barangay captain, he said. “Sabi nga nung iba tumakbo na ako for Senate, sabi ko medyo masyadong mataas.”
He’s observed some frustrating details about the elections, especially how poverty is used—classic cases of vote-buying, threats to take away benefits, empty promises. “Pa-kulto yung effect,” he said.
He found hope in people electing the young and the “different” in the May 9 elections. “I’m happy about it … We need a new breed, set of people, leaders who are thinking about change in the dynamics.”
Right now, he just wants to rest, but he’s open to the possibilities.
“Posibleng ang tadhana ko ay maging writer ni Ellen DeGeneres (his ultimate dream), maging talk show host, president ng Pilipinas, I don’t know. Basta ako, tama si Ate Alma Moreno, dasal lang muna talaga. Be guided.
“I’m just gonna use my talents, strengths and weaknesses. Go lang… bagamat hindi ko pa nakikita ’yung kaganapan ng aking tadhana. Yuck, ang lalim.”