Deaf beki humor: A pastoral-theological articulation of pagbabangong-dangal —resurrection

Introduction

Humor studies and research are notably visible in psychology and literature but understudied in pastoral-theological or Deaf studies. ¹ In this light, I explore the possible contributions of this article in theological-pastoral discourses by privileging the Deaf LGBT perspective on beki humor. With my non-kin affinity with the Deaf community and friends, I requested three representatives from a Deaf LGBT group, Pinoy Deaf Rainbow, to be respondents in this study. ²

Acknowledging the underrepresentation of Filipino Deaf LGBT communities in mainstream scholarly discourse, this study is dedicated to establishing a platform that prioritizes and highlights their unique experiences, perspectives, and cultural contributions. This research is a collaborative endeavor involving Filipino Deaf LGBT individuals who serve as conversation partners, ensuring their perspectives are central to the discussion. It is important to note that this article does not propose new theories, concepts, or sociological trends, but rather focuses on a theological-pastoral reinterpretation of a Christian theme of resurrection by exploring beki humor. Humor in this research project goes beyond its conventional (mis)understanding as a series of syntax of jokes and elicitation of laughter.

The Filipino Deaf LGBT respondents in this research utilize beki humor as an affective mechanism for shaping narrative frameworks and interpersonal relationships. From the outset, participants provided permission ³ to share their experiences obtained through photo-elicitation, focused group discussions, and multiple conversations, exploring the Christian theme of resurrection. They recognize the significance of this effort in providing a platform to amplify their perspectives within academic scholarship.

Their consent stems from their experiences of pervasive discrimination, marginalization, and exclusion within society. The hearing mainstream widely adheres to a medicalized view of disability, perceiving deafness as an auditory deficiency, hence the term “hearing-impaired.” This perspective carries ethical implications, including framing Deaf individuals as needing repair. This ingrained perspective has led to forms of discrimination known as ableism and audism, where the Deaf are often not trusted to participate equally or contribute significantly to society because of auditory defects. As a result, they face barriers in language, quality education, limited employment opportunities despite protective legislation such as the Magna Carta for Disabled Persons, and exclusion from public discourse and policy-making. This lack of inclusion extends to the broader ignorance of Deaf culture, including its unique language and distinctive ways of navigating the world. Understanding and appreciating Deaf culture could enrich mainstream society. In a broader context, the experiences of disenfranchisement among the Deaf parallel the marginalization faced by other vulnerable groups in the Philippines, such as farmers, fisherfolk, LGBT individuals, people living with HIV, indigenous peoples, and others with disabilities. Mindful of the Deaf culture, it is apt to employ a respondent photo-elicitation technique, an approach used in visual social research. Photo-elicitation, a technique within this method, involves utilizing photographs or visual images, either auto-generated by the researcher or respondent-generated, to stimulate discussion and evoke deeper reflections from individuals, tapping into their emotions and memories, as underscored by Douglas Harper (2012, 155), facilitates the revelation and sharing of narratives that are often marginalized or disregarded.

Conducting meaningful research with Deaf respondents necessitates a nuanced understanding of their culture and communication preferences. Recognizing the visual nature of Deaf individuals, research methods must align with their mode of expression, which predominantly relies on visual communication. As noted by Dai O’Brien (2018), cultural sensitivity is crucial for ensuring research inclusivity, hence, photo-elicitation is a particularly suitable method for engaging Deaf participants, bridging communication barriers inherent in traditional interview processes. By leveraging their visual acuity, photo-elicitation facilitates efficient communication and enriches the depth and dimension of their narratives.

It is noteworthy that the Deaf LGBT respondents in this study identify as adult Christians. However, they have distanced themselves from active participation in church activities due to the discrimination and stigmatization they experienced and encountered.

Multiple focused group discussions (FGDs) were conducted to ensure the accuracy and clarity of their perspectives. Also, subsequent validation and analysis were observed in this study. While religion was not a central focus of our conversations, an interesting link emerged between their experiences and their use of Deaf beki humor, which they concurred has a connection with the Christian theme of resurrection.

Each section of this article serves as a scaffold for raising awareness, recognition, and appreciation of the Deaf perspective, which can be considered an alternate epistemology from the margins.

Humor on a serious note

Humor, by definition, is ambiguous to encapsulate because of the varied nuances it presents. To date, humor scholars do not have an agreed upon definition of humor. Also, to define humor (or any term for that matter) is to exclude and negate other possible meanings (Davis 2008, 543). Because there is no precise definition, it can be said that humor is deemed to be in a terminological haze. In this regard, looking at existing theories used in humor studies is a requisite.

Three classical theories that undergird humor studies are superiority, relief, and incongruity. The superiority theory of humor leans on social status/interactions, thus it is more sociological in nature. Thomas Hobbes asserts that we laugh “because of sudden glory arising from some sudden conception of some eminency in ourselves, by comparison with the infirmity of others” (1651, cited in Ruch 2008, 30), which can be viewed to be disparaging. Endorsing normalized negative stereotypes, such as sexist or racist jokes perpetuates discrimination and encourages bigotry.

Another classical theory of humor is the relief theory, which sees humor as releasing repressed emotional tension and stress, including fear, sadness, anger, anxiety, and so on (Olin 2016, 116). Humor is used to cope or as a mechanism to release inhibited cathexis, thus it becomes an arousing stimulus that attracts attention and elicits laughter. In marriage or any relationship, humor could de-escalate tension. As asserted by Rod Martin, affiliative humor (that is, non-aggressive or one that carries a tone of sarcasm) can foster intimacy and cope with adversity, resulting in positive relationship outcomes.

The humor theory of incongruity laughs at matters that seem illogical or responses that do not make sense or are unexpected. Incongruity theory looks at humor with an element of surprise. This is quite true in the case of irony — “a state of affairs that is the reverse of what was to be expected; a result opposite to and in mockery of the appropriate result” (Carlin 1997, 116). Typically, incongruity is seen in scripts, punchlines, or representations that seem incompatible with the audiences’ expectations.

These humor theories generally recognize the unexpected, surprising, illogical, or suddenness that brings about mirth (Pollio 1983, 226). Additionally, humor done on a personal level can be considered a relational tool that can foster and sustain relationships. Nonetheless, humor can also serve as a social device that can challenge complex social and political realities that hold a punch of truth. Society’s acceptance of prejudicial stereotypes and beliefs delivered via humor is reflective of people and the comic/artist/joke-teller’s attitude on targeted issues.

In the early twentieth century, the French philosopher Henri Bergson viewed humor as a social corrective that could influence the social order. For Bergson, humor across cultures is essentially shared and social (Kuipers 2008, 364). Similarly, Rose Coser explored how humor can serve as a social cohesion (366), which is possible in an egalitarian (366), informal, and unstructured environment. In this sense, humor hones the solidarity and identity of the group. Further, Coser perceived a sort of humor bending, which reduces social distance because it facilitates intermediate acceptance of interaction (Coser 1959, 172). Indeed, humor signifies intimacy among friends and sustains social bonds, acting as an adhesive that strengthens connections and solidifies communities.

In a functionalist theory of humor, anthropologists observed that joking relationships often occur within an institutionalized, kin-based interaction, but humor also exists in non-kin relationships, such as in workplaces, associations, and other forms of in-groups. In joking relationships, humor takes the form of teasing, sarcasm, or insinuation which functions as a mode of social activity. William F. Fry regards joking relationships as a reaffirmation of warmth and positive emotions (1963, 31). Anthropologist Mahadev L. Apte has developed Fry’s view on joking relationships, where he asserts that humor does not only manifest a playful behavior that occurs between individuals who recognize their special affinity but also a conduit of consciousness of their community/group identity that cultivates solidarity (1985, 29–66, 30–31).

With these theories considered, it is odd that there are scarce sources about humor concerning religious faith; the Christian stance on humor is almost reticent. With a dearth of theological discourse on the topic, what is it about Christianity, in this case, Roman Catholicism, that seems to be silent or suppress humor?

In early Christianity, humor was a strand that was subjected to suppression. While the Christian Bible depicted humor and laughter as expressions of hostility, foolishness, and contempt, a closer examination reveals some stories exhibit humor through creative imagination.

Incidents of laughter are an expression of scorn or brutal sarcasm, particularly when aimed at diminishing a person’s reputation (Morreall 2008, 212). Early Christian thinkers have appropriated Platonism and Stoicism in interpreting humor in the Bible which has gained and engrained a negative attitude towards it. Church fathers, namely Jerome, Basil, and John Chrysostom emphasized the importance of self-mastery, especially in the extreme expression of laughter. Similarly, some early Christian leaders thought that laughter fosters sexual seduction, particularly women’s laughter. In the seventh century, John Climacus viewed people who laugh immoderately as lacking temperance (216).

The oldest Christian monastic rule of Pachom in Egypt forbade humor. The Rule of St. Benedict—by then a standard of Western monasticism—called for restraint in laughter and warns against joking, stating, “speak no foolish chatter…nothing just to provoke and do not love immoderate or boisterous laughter” (quoted, 217). The monastery of Columban in Ireland has equivalent punishment for those who smile and laugh, seeing someone who utters humor and laughter as a graceless person (217). It appears that humor and laughter were discouraged or suppressed.

Despite the unfavorable association with humor and laughter, St. Thomas Aquinas presented a counterargument challenging this negative view. In Summa Theologiae question 168, Aquinas examined humor and play by drawing on Aristotle’s eutrapelia which classified humor as a moral virtue. A person (eutrapelos) who employs humor in their words and deeds takes a cheerful turn, which is considered virtuous and commendable. In this manner, Aquinas maneuvered humor toward a positive turn. Interestingly, Thomas Scheff stretched Aquinas’s positive perspective on humor, suggesting that humor is a form of catharsis or anti-shame (Kuipers 2008, 367).

In humor’s ambiguity prevails a processual nature and uncertain outcome (384), enabling it to disarm the other and be revolutionary, transgressive, and transformative, thus unleashing the power of humor (384). Further, humor’s power and ingenuity “expose the underlying structure of reality a strong subversive potential, concluding that humor can be ‘an assault’ on reality” (376). The varied social constellation of humor defies a single function or definition. Humor is a vast field that is fluid, making it open to scholarly probes which in fact, can be taken seriously.

Considering this, an area of humor constellation that remains underexplored involves the intersection and connection between humor and gender. Existing research on humor and gender often emphasizes differing humor styles between males and females. This is evident in the works of Rose Coser, and subsequently in the studies by Jennifer Coates, Janet Holmes, and Stephanie Schnurr (Chiaro and Baccolini 2014, 5). They argue that women tend to gravitate towards collaborative humor. Coates posits that women employ humor to foster solidarity, while Holmes and Schnurr suggest that humor is a means of empowerment.

Similarly, Helga Kotthoff (2006) delved into the marginalization of women's humor and its notable absence in prevailing humor theories. To demonstrate the potential of feminist humor, she analyzed a comedic sketch performed by a German stand-up comedian, illustrating how a woman can reverse traditional behavioral norms. Esther Linares Bernabéu (2019) aligns this perspective by examining how female comedians challenge gender-based behavioral norms through their humorous discourse. Bernabéu proposes an extensive inquiry into humor creation patterns based on gender, encompassing a broader spectrum of gender identities.

Another understudied area in humor studies is queer/crip and camp humor. Rainer Emig (2014) views humor as a dynamic and playful force capable of shaping group identities, fostering communities, and cultivating inclusivity. While gay and lesbian humor gains visibility in contemporary sitcoms and films, some scholars perceive that the portrayal of homosexuality in humor often reinforces stereotypes. This observation is notably highlighted by Brandon Bisbey (2022) in his manuscript, where he interrogates the coloniality of dominant Western gender norms. Bisbey contextualizes queer humor within Mexican literature. Specifically, he explored the utilization of camp and cursi ⁴ humor as vehicles for portraying sexual dissidence and gender nonconformity. Converging camp and cursi with theories that interpret humor as a representation of social contradictions, Bisbey interprets these literary texts as reflections of queerness. His take on humor has significant implications in challenging prevailing social structures, both within Mexico and in the broader global context.

While these theorists have illuminated humor as a social phenomenon, there remains ample opportunity to delve deeper into understanding its multifaceted roles and functions. Building on the dominance of Western perspectives in humor scholarship, this section lays the groundwork for exploring Southeast Asia comedic sensibilities.

Filipino humor: A glimpse of scholars’ take

The Philippines remains in the top ten list of the 2022 Positive Experience Index global report, ranking eighth (Gallup Global Emotions 2022). Life in the Philippines is hard and humor is a mechanism through which Filipinos make life momentarily bearable.

The pioneer of Filipino psychology, Virgilio Enriquez asserted that humor (biro in Tagalog) is part of the Filipino psyche, manifested in playful behavior of teasing or joking, which functions as a defusing mechanism (de Guia 2005, 35). In the Philippines, biro is socio-cultural, used in socializing to forge rapport, thus Filipinos consider humor part of our social and relational psyche.

Biro has a neutralizing power when a person wants to soothe the self from embarrassment or uncomfortable feelings that will turn to mirth. It is also a guise to correct a person yet protect the other from humiliation. Also, biro is cracked as a means to bear an annoying situation (36). Often, Filipinos indirectly voice their resistance, refusal, or disgust through biro, so that the truth told will not be as hurtful when delivered directly.

In the day-to-day life of Filipinos, humor is not in the realm of cognitive psychology, rather it is considered a behavior pattern, together with lambing (showing affection) and tampo (sulking). Enriquez pointed out that the accommodative surface values of hiyâ, utang na loob, and pakikisama find expression through the behavior pattern. For Enriquez, the power of biro can “iron out the wrinkles of hiyâ,” (35) when something is uncomfortable; it also operates in balancing crumpled emotions.

For the Filipino humor scholar, Maria Rhodora G. Ancheta, humor is a national weapon that Filipinos utilize in response to the crippling national horrors by projecting themselves as victims of embarrassing and painful historical, political, or cultural circumstances (Sanvictores 2021). In her book, Ancheta analyzed select Philippine humor in visual arts, comic strips, theater/films, and literature (2017). In contrast to Enriquez, who looked at humor from a social relational aspect, Ancheta studied how humor operates as a form of sedition, as in the case of Sarsuwelas, as discourses employed by the late King of Philippine Comedy, Dolphy, of subversion as in the case of the comic strip Pugad Baboy, and of the power of humor through political language, as in the case of the Erap Jokes.

Enriquez and Ancheta’s positions intersect on the notion of Filipino humor, functioning as both a heuristic weapon and as a facilitator of social cohesion that animates and sustains relationships and communal bonds. In general, Filipino humor is a mixed bag of social discourse and an emotive mechanism that responds to a plethora of everyday experiences, one of which is shame.

Deaf LGBT: Experiences of shame

“Shame can power all forms of humor” – Donald Nathanson

The twenty-first century is marked by rapid digital computing and medical advancements, innovations, and global connectivity, resulting in constant reshaping and shifts of societal norms that challenge and transform human lives. Despite the progress, the disturbing reality of the deepening discrimination, inequity, exclusion, inaccessibility to resources and opportunities, and other systemic injustices persist in the lives of marginalized individuals, groups, and communities. Among these groups that share this experience of systemic oppression and injustice are the Deaf people. In a society dominated by hearing/speaking, phonetic/auditory, and written communication, deafness is a disability, apparent in communication and language barriers. Consequently, this leads to the disqualification and disenfranchisement of Deaf individuals, rendering them and their communities invisible in society.

It is imperative to recognize that not all disabilities are visible; certainly, the invisibility of deafness has been overlooked. A plausible factor for their invisibility is that they have been “historiographically marginal, even within social and cultural history” (Cleall 2015, 2). Similarly, Ato Quayson has argued that the apparent invisibility of persons with disabilities, and as a case in point, Deaf LGBT people, “is not one of not being seen, but of being framed within a discourse of stereotypes and expectations that serve to efface a person’s identity” (Quayson 2007, 2). Further, disability is undesirable or even feared, hence there is the unconscious and disconcerting intent to negate or deny this universal human experience and reality in society. Regarded as different and/or defective, Deaf LGBT individuals encounter exclusion and unfavorable judgment (Napier 2021, 201). Because their body deviates from normality, they become objects of stare and consequently experience negative othering. Thus, like any other marginalized groups and cultural minorities, Filipino Deaf LGBT people and communities continue to fight for recognition and cultural autonomy over the dominant mainstream (Enriquez 1994, 7).

Sadly, the social construct of normality has inflicted a sense of inferiority, inadequacy, and erosion of self-regard, thus the sense of shame is gradually internalized into their consciousness. Shame, as asserted by Brown (2006), can be considered a socio-cultural psychological construct that undermines an individual's sense of self and dignity. Furthermore, Deaf LGBT experience shaming due to their disability, gender identity, and behavior that does not conform to the expectations of society (Brown 2006, 202); they are harshly disqualified in an ableist world. Thus, this article aims to provide a platform for them as represented by three respondents to share their experiences and shed light on the society’s ableist dispositions that have resulted in their disqualification and disenfranchisement from society. Likewise, this research attempts to show how their perspective and practice of gay humor can contribute to or perhaps enrich our theological reflections on the Christian core belief in the resurrection.

To safeguard the Filipino Deaf LGBT respondents’ identities, they opted to use a nom de plume in this article. Two of them identify as transgender, Yuri Nathania and Erika, while Lee Heineken identifies as bisexual. Yuri is an actress and a former Deaf Gay pageant title holder. Erika runs a business of her own, while Heineken is employed in a private company. They shared with me experiences of insults and disrespect that amount to others shaming their identity both in terms of gender and being Deaf. Erika narrated:

When I was young, I used beki sign language to express humor, but people have a different perspective, they are confused about my use of hands to communicate. Also, they are confused about my identity as a transwoman. People have constantly questioned on religious grounds, “Why will you change your identity, don’t you know that is a sin,” or “You have no respect for religion; you have no shame about rules for men and women. Being a transwoman is a sin.” At that time, I felt they did not understand my situation, particularly my identity. This for me was an insult, a form of shaming my identity, both gender and personhood. I always receive insults. My image to them is doubly a disgrace because being a transwoman, they also assume that my sign language is encrypted with immodesty and therefore it follows that my expressions are considered inappropriate. My personhood has been judged as “dirty.”

In a similar vein, Heineken shared his experiences of shame, especially when he commutes via public transportation such as jeepneys (a mini-bus version in the Philippines),

When I give my payment to the driver, people automatically will look at me as if something is wrong with me because I am Deaf (the sound when I speak does not fit “normal” sound/clarity perhaps as compared to a hearing person). I feel so ashamed. Another experience was, when I worked as a service crew, my name tag indicated “I am Deaf,” yet people continued to speak. I informed them that “I am Deaf” and I cannot hear, but they ignored me and continued to speak. I felt that being Deaf amounted to an insult to my Deafhood. Once, when I and my Deaf LGBT friends were riding a metro train, we were exchanging jokes and laughter, and then an old man adamantly stopped us from conversing with one another. We were told that we created too much noise when we were just using sign language and simply laughing. I felt our freedom was being constrained. To me and my friends those were forms of shame attributed to our Deaf and gender identity.

Yuri, on the other hand, briefly shared her experience of shame,

When people consciously do not refer to me by my proper name, I consider this an insult. Because people consciously refuse to recognize and acknowledge my gender identity as transgender. Also, people think that being Deaf, I will not know that they do not refer to my proper name when in fact I can read lips. This is another attack on my identity as Deaf. All these felt like rejection and shame.

Their experiences of shame are attacks on their gender identity and Deafhood, affecting their self-esteem. Unfortunately, such painful moments arise from “a relationship with an authority figure or with society, inhibiting self-assertion in a situation perceived as dangerous to one’s ego” (Bulatao 1964, 428).

In an ableist society that insists on normality both in body and gender, their experience of shame via domination, suppression, and exclusion is all too common among their community/group. Generally, an ableist society fails to grant accessibility and accommodation to them. Impressed that they are an interruption to hearing non-signers, Deaf LGBTs experience frustration and shame. It can be argued that such a perception is evident from the shared stories of these Deaf LGBT respondents. Many Deaf studies scholars (Leigh 2020; Mousley & Chaudoir 2018) contend that the pedagogy used in Deaf education contributes to the systemic institutionalization of audism and the structural stigma that Deaf people have internalized (Napier 2021, 203). Mindful of this reality, the Filipino Deaf LGBT respondents of this study tried to transgress shame.

In Western terms, hiyâ is conventionally translated to “shame,” which is often negatively associated with timidity, shyness, or a sense of inferiority. However, hiyâ is a complex and unique Filipino value that carries a positive—albeit overlooked—dimension. Beyond the unfavorable nuances of shyness or inferiority, hiyâ within a negative spectrum can also be understood as walang hiyâ (shameless/guiltless). For Jaime Bulatao, walang hiyâ “involves a crassness and insensibility to the feelings of others…it is a lack of anxious care for society’s acceptance” (1964, 429). For Dionisio Miranda, walang hiyâ is a person’s act of cutting “off one’s relatedness to others, to seek the worth of one’s life and person apart from others” (1992, 203). Walang hiyâ amounts to ignoring the other person and thinking only of oneself (Lasquety-Reyes 2016); it is also an expression used as a curse or invective in the Filipino language. Similarly, for Mary R. Hollnsteiner, “to call a Filipino walang hiyâ is to wound him seriously,” (1961, 396) depriving a person of decency.

For Enriquez, hiyâ is an accommodative surface value (along with utang na loob [debt of gratitude] and pakikisama [companionship, yielding to the will of the majority/leader]) (Enriquez 1986, 8). In reframing hiyâ as dignity or propriety, Enriquez pointed out its implicit moral dimension. Shame directs people to think about the welfare of the Other (Lasquety-Reyes 2016). Hiyâ is something that Filipinos employ to live in peace with dignity and harmony with others; that is, hiyâ is a disposition where one recognizes their rightful place (marunong mahiyâ or may hiyâ /may kahihiyân). For Enriquez, hiyâ is dignity, it projects confidence, such as being walang hiyâ-hiyâ (no shame), when a person boldly asserts their agency.

A deeper domain of hiyâ includes openness to life’s lessons. For Filipinos, learning matters more than committing mistakes. For a collective or shared self, hiyâ paves the way to build strength, that is,

When one has learned to move through life like water, ready to lose everything in order to win, tacit knowing provides the information of what is appropriate at any given moment…Hiyâ as propriety has matured into hiyâ as human dignity. (de Guia 2005, 33)

In this sense, hiyâ can also function as a catalyst for a positive response, whereby individuals and communities gather strength from each other and confidently assert themselves. Shame’s other dimension lies in asserting one’s power. In the case of the Filipino Deaf LGBT respondents, they utilized their collective experiences to strengthen community bonds and be unapologetic for their identity, language, and culture. Shame is a catalyst for a positive response that cultivates pride in identity, culture, and gender, to which they actively assert disability justice.

Filipino beki lingo: Humor defies language

Filipinos are fond of physical humor which is evident in most comedy films and sitcoms, especially those that gain much laughter from the audience when gay people are ridiculed or taunted, verbally or poked physically. In comedy bars, verbal humor by gay people (sometimes in drag) throws punchlines to their audience, resulting in an outburst of laughter. ⁵

In the Philippines, the beki language has been in use since the 1970s (or perhaps even earlier, given the lack of historical records). Beki language was engendered in gay communities to facilitate communication on their terms; it is a discreet way of expressing their thoughts via coded language, akin to jargon, thus any attempt to eavesdrop will fail. The basis of beki terms is fluid and varied; it can be from an association of people, similarity of sound, and so on. Some examples are, chaka, which means ugly, associated with the film “Chucky.” Another beki term is Indiana Jones, which does not refer to Harrison Ford, but it means, “a person who has the habit of not showing up”; it is a slang Filipino term nag-iindian, when translated to beki language is, “Naku, Indiana Jones nanaman jowa (lover) mo.” In the 1970s to 1990s a beki slang for a lie was echoserang frog; to avoid offending a friend who has been a habitual liar, they say, “Alam mo, echoserang frog ka” (You know, you are a liar). Another beki usage of terms, “kapag na-julisimaka ng georgia, bahala ka sa buhay,” (When you are caught by a security guard, you are on your own) where Julisima means caught (huli) and Georgia pertains to a security guard. These examples are just a fraction of how Filipino gays are ingenious in creating and defying language.

This is widely known as gay lingo in the Philippines, which according to a Filipino linguist Jesus Federico Hernandez, its emergence is a response to the dominant patriarchy of the Judeo-Christian culture that views homosexuals and their sexuality negatively. Thus, beki language is a strategy to counter the culture of violence against gays. Similarly, Filipino anthropologist Martin Manalansan IV refers to beki language as swardspeak, which to him “enact ideas, transact experiences, and perform identities that showcase their abject relationship to the nation” (Manalansan 2003, 46). In some sense, beki language can be considered their “cultural capital,” (Hernandez and Abaya 1998, 70). Meanwhile, for Hernandez, beki language is a symbol of gay identity that forms solidarity within the community and challenges society’s perception of gay(ness), which emboldens them to assert their identity. However, these markers serve as a double-edged sword that results in confirming their deviance and difference in society, with this, a Filipino gay will say, “kiber!” (I don’t care). Gay humor in this context is in the hearing/phonocentric world, but what about disability humor?

“What is so funny about having a disability when others think that it is a tragedy? How can we laugh at ourselves and our calamities?” (Albrecht 1999, 67). Disability humor possesses both a playful nature and a potent ability to bring about emancipation. As Tom Shakespeare (1999, 51) posits, “reversal of expectation is always richly comedic, and there is no greater than treating what is commonly represented as a tragedy as if it is a farce.”

Viewing it from the perspective of disability studies, humor is a social construct and serves as a focal point where identity, cultural groups, and communities intersect. Similarly, queer/crip humor emerges as a vehicle for asserting agency and dismantling prevailing misconceptions surrounding disabled bodies and individuals. But how does a Filipino Deaf LGBT community employ beki humor?

Many know little to nothing about Filipino Deaf beki (LGBT) humor. They employ beki humor to carve out a space for thriving while deepening understanding of their group, culture, and identity. Further, their stories could contribute to pastoral-theological exercises that may affirm other persons with disabilities.

Deaf Beki humor: Beyond laughter

This section presents the social visual method used in this study, particularly image elicitation or what most social scientists refer to as photo-elicitation. The photos used are generated by respondents, a culturally sensitive approach tailored to Deaf LGBT participants.

Three respondents from the Pinoy Deaf Rainbow (PDR) community provided a solid presentation and affective aspect of humor. It is a conscious undertaking to privilege their conceptual framework. The images they chose elicit information or trigger deeper perceptions or values regarding how they perceive the world (Pauwels 2015, 118). Providing their images of Deaf beki humor might jolt memories of their past, and therefore elicit comments that can prove meaningful to this study (120). In analyzing the images, I searched for style, patterns, and other minute details that could be a cultural or significant marker (124) of beki humor. Some of the questions asked during the FGD (Focused Group Discussion) were, “How and what does Deaf beki humor truly do for you as individuals and as a community?” and “How significant is Deaf beki humor to your lives as individuals and community?” These were significant for obtaining greater knowledge, awareness, and a deeper understanding of Deaf (person)hood.

Their photos interestingly were all self-photographs with exaggerated wacky facial and bodily expressions; these elicit laughter (or smile) from whoever sees it. It is quite surprising that the subject of humor was themselves. To verify the pattern, style, and crux that I observed in their photos—namely the exaggerated facial and bodily gestures—Heineken confirmed that Deaf beki humor’s style of expression is strong and intense. But there is more to what is explicitly seen. Yuri added that Deaf beki humor is a “skill to make others laugh, and there are different styles that I have learned by mingling with various Deaf communities.” Similarly, Erika agreed with Yuri that Deaf beki humor is a skill with the “purpose to give comfort or de-stress” the emotional conditions felt in their community.

Beki humor utilizes gestures, facial expressions, and body movements; thus, it is heavily physical. During the Deaf LGBTFGDs, beki humor was apparent, as there was frequent physical teasing by a finger jab at each other’s side, with the intent to tickle and just to make fun of each other, which cultivated an atmosphere where we all felt de-stressed. One Deaf respondent was subjected to continuous teasing, which elicited humorous responses through her facial expressions, inaudible speech, and body gestures. Despite her initial nervousness about the discussion, she did not mind being the focus of the jesting. Their comment on her moves and responses were not taken as insults but it is proof of their intimacy as a community.

During one of the FGDs, I requested the Deaf seated on the couch to move closer to the other two respondents, for the camera to capture/record their conversation on the screen. In her attempt to get closer, she lugged her buttocks back. When she finally reached the perfect spot, the discomfort was utterly evident in her exaggerated facial expression, which made us inquire about the cause of her uneasiness. She mimed with her hands and facial expression of disdain indicating her balls shifted direction! All of us laughed! She told us, she wants to re-arrange it. This shows that their humor is straightforward; often the subject of jeering is themselves, and for them, that is all right, as long as respect remains abound. She was not shy to tell us the cause of her uneasiness.

This description fits the functional dimension of humor in joking relationships. Beki humor is commonly utilized in Deaf LGBT communities and not for public/comic entertainment. Given its camp characteristic, distinguished by playfulness, and exaggerated facial and body gestures, they consider Deaf beki humor as an expression of freedom, their unapologetic expression of self, their deafness, and their gender. Deaf beki humor is hiyâ understood as dignity. It is their audacious self-assertion, hence, walang hiyâ-hiyâ. Having been controlled and limited by society, beki humor has become an act of refusal and transgression from the normality that society imposes on them (Meneses 2023, 86-87, 90).

Erika shared an experience when she was forced to change or prohibited from expressing herself,

When I was young, I use beki sign language to express humor. But people question my expression as well as my identity as a transwoman. People have different perspectives. Because they do not understand (beki) sign language, they thought my expression was inappropriate and immodest. People have judged me as one lacking intelligence and “dirty,” that is, immoral.

Surprisingly, their visual representation of humor took the form of wacky self-portraits. This made me pause and wonder what made them comfortable in being a possible subject of ridicule, humor, and laughter, especially after they experienced being insulted for their deafness and gender identity. Their wacky self-portrait is an expression of agency. Heineken asserted,

When we use beki humor in the LGBT community, we feel we are in control of ourselves, we sense acceptance, and we are free to laugh out loud without anybody telling us to stop. We freely express ourselves; we are empowered.

In a world where deafness is a disgrace, seen as a loss, pitied, and dejected, it makes sense that they use beki humor to claim momentary control, freedom, and empowerment. They explained that in a world that normally considers them inferior and not enough, Deaf beki humor is a device to assert and empower one another. This showcases the efficacy and the potential power of disability humor.

Deaf beki humor relies heavily on gestural communication, primarily understood by those within the in-group. While its exaggerated gestures often provoke laughter, comprehension is not guaranteed. Similar to swardspeak, Deaf beki humor operates as a coded lexicon, employing exaggerated gestures and body movements akin to camp to shield against stigma stemming from gender and disability differences (Casabal 2008, 74). This intersects with Manalansan and Garcia’s work on swardspeak suggesting that both forms of humor transcend syntactic structures, joke codes, or mere laughter induction, serving as affect in constructing narrative frameworks that shape social bonds.

Deaf beki humor shares a semblance with James Scott's (1985) concept of a “hidden transcript,” wherein the marginalized ingeniously devise unsuspecting forms of resistance through gossip, jokes, songs, memes, rituals, or other practices to counter their oppressors. Scott posits that such non-conventional resistance strategies empower the oppressed, a sentiment echoed by Bussie (2007, 146) in her examination of the hidden transcript’s empowering effect on ordinary people of faith. Thus, Deaf beki humor emerges as a sort of “script” of resistance, diverging from predetermined communication responses to embody spontaneity, flexibility, creativity, and the capacity to deliver humorously unexpected reactions to situations.

Undoubtedly, Deaf beki humor is playful yet potentially powerful, as it can re-equilibrate their lives in navigating an inhospitable society. In this regard, Deaf beki humor as a hidden transcript, as well as a nuanced disability (queer/crip) humor, empowers them to transverse and transgress their experiences of marginalization, exclusion, disqualification, and disenfranchisement in a society that continues to mistreat them. The unapologetic assertion of their rightful place within society through beki humor boldly recalibrates disability injustice and ableist ideology, rendering it with subversive undertones. Given this, what does beki humor yield for a pastoral-theological articulation?

Resurrection as pagbabangong-dangal: A consideration

Resurrection is fundamental to Christian tradition and is acknowledged in Filipino Roman Catholicism as the starting point of the proclamation of the Christian faith. The Catechism of the Catholic Church states that we must be cautious in impressing the empty tomb as proof of the resurrection because “the absence of Christ’s body from the tomb could be explained otherwise” (CCC no. 640). On the other hand, resurrection in the Jewish tradition is “eschatological and (for the faithful) collective” (de Mesa 1991, 115). Jesus’s resurrection is often understood as something that physically happened, with the apparition accounts in the gospels being interpreted as observable phenomena (112). Some occurrences depicted as evidence of Jesus’s resurrection, include when Thomas touched the wounds of Jesus, when Jesus engaged in a long and profound discussion with disciples on the road to Emmaus, and when Jesus shared a meal with his disciples’ fresh catch. These stories in the gospel have influenced Filipinos’ understanding of resurrection, evident in its translation, muling pagkabuhay or nabuhay na mag-uli (risen from the dead or rose from the dead) as exhibited in a popular religious tradition of Salubong, (125) which is a procession made before dawn that enacts the meeting of the resurrected Christ and his mother Mary. For the late Filipino theologian José de Mesa, such tradition is a “misunderstanding of the resurrection” (115) and therefore tends to mislead the faithful.

De Mesa suggests presenting the resurrection intelligibly, by reflecting on the shameful experience of Jesus when he was rejected and crucified (125). The crucifixion is also a visual image of hate, insult, disgust, and brutality. Crucifixion was a horrific death sentence, an execution for those who opposed Roman authorities. In Jesus’s time, the cross was also a symbol of kahiyâ-hiyâng kamatayan (shameful death) (127), intentionally done near the city gates where people who enter the gate will see the crucified stripped naked; it was a fierce way of desecrating human dignity. Jesus’s experience of rejection and death on the cross was a violation of his dignity. It was a ruthless reminder of a person’s subjugation, humiliation, and dehumanization by the politically dominant power that “dictates who may live and must die,” (Mbembe 2003, 11) and therefore undermines any semblance of agency and self-worth.

Indeed, Jesus’s life did not end in death; rather, he was vindicated from a humiliating death—resurrection. Any action that regains a person’s dignity from humiliation can be considered a form of resurrection. If we consider the resurrection as an experience of pagbabangong-dangal (uplifting one’s dignity) this avoids construing it with the physical return of Jesus to life (de Mesa 1991, 133). Resurrection as pagbabangong-dangal will be understood as vindication or even exaltation from a shameful experience, something that is relatable to ordinary life, as De Mesa suggested. Pagbabangong-dangal appends the nuances of muling pagkabuhay or nabuhay ng mag-uli, making it more intelligible within the Filipino frame of reference, (138) especially for those in the hem of society, whose life is made vulnerable and precarious.

However, De Mesa’s re-imagining of resurrection as a reality in everyday life that is no longer seen as a distant future or that happens in the eschaton tends to be domesticated into religious terms. Such a perspective can become an opiate and soporific, resulting in negligence and even failure to address the sources of discrimination, marginalization, and precarity of the lives of the most vulnerable (LaMothe 2013, 714). This can lead to a passive stance and failure to recognize the injustices and inequalities happening against Deaf LGBTs in society and in the Church. In this case, I suggest that De Mesa’s view of resurrection could be expanded beyond merely being opposed to shame, but one where shame is conflated with resurrection—resurrection as insurrection (714).

In the Filipino psychic and socio-cultural domains, a person’s dignity is trampled when personhood and rights are violated. But by placing hiyâ in opposition to dangal (dignity), we legitimize the dominant view of shame as a negative quality. As suggested in the previous section, hiyâ is a complex Filipino value, wherein Enriquez nuances dignity/propriety, making shame an affect mechanism of agency.

Jesus’s crucifixion is an image of shame; it is an image of existential vulnerability, violence, hate, and injustice, that effectively undermines personhood and denies expression, agency, and self-worth. Amid taunting and ridicule from the crowd, Jesus asserted himself, chose to forgive, and promised paradise to a crucified thief. At the brink of death, Jesus refused and transgressed the expectation of society to die with a deep sense of shame.

Jesus acknowledged his shameful state on the cross but remained resolute in asserting his agency (721); his power to assert himself was not nailed, but exposed on the cross. There are two ways to describe shame in-between resurrection and insurrection in Tagalog: “Kahit kahiyâ-hiyâ ang kanyang kalagayan, hindi siya nahiyâ na ipakita ang tunay niyang katauhan” (Despite a shameful condition, Jesus was firm to show his true character) or “hindi siya nahiyâ na ipakita kung sino siya” (He was undaunted in asserting who he was). Recall how the crowd laughed at Jesus; a resurrection as insurrection expressed in humor will surely be different. Jesus, in his resurrection, would surely say, “Ngayon, nasa akin ang huling halakhak!” (Now, I have the last laugh!). But in beki humor, he would utter, “Hoy! Mga antibiotic! I’m back! Ngayon nakanino ang huling halakhak?!”

Shame in this situation facilitates agency. Jesus claimed his freedom to be the person he chooses to be—forgiving and gracious; there is no shame in that. His articulation on the cross was a resistance to being subjugated and controlled by the horrors of physical and social shaming (711). In reframing shame from the stance of dignity—as walang hiyâ-hiyâ or hindi na(hi)hiyâ—and drawing from the lens of Deaf beki humor, resurrection can be a refusal to be controlled or subjugated. In this case, shame predicates dignity, and therefore, resurrection (pagbabagong-dangal) functions as a social project that defies and destabilizes dominant constructs that undermine agency and power. Resurrection in this case can be viewed as insurrection.

Yuri’s experience demonstrates a form of resurrection as insurrection when she applied queer humor via a comic reversal, where shame is dignity/propriety. She recalls and narrated the story behind one of the photos she gave that illustrates beki humor, where shame is dignity/propriety (walang hiyâ-hiyâ):

In my early elementary years, I often experienced taunting from classmates and even from my teachers because of my feminine behavior. But it was clear to me, even at a young age of what I am; I am a girl, not a boy! During a school event, all the girls in our class were asked to have photo ops together with our teacher. I insisted on being part of the photo ops. They cannot refuse because I really changed my image, I put on lipstick and a feathered scarf, and I exaggerated my bodily movements to highlight my femininity. Though the entire class was laughing at me, my teacher was just scratching her head and allowed me to join the girls. I held my head high; I was proud and happy.

One of the questions I raised during our conversation was, “Why do you think there are few Filipino Deaf-LGBT representatives, representation, or participation in the church?” Sensing stigma alongside its inadequate accessibility and accommodation leaves them disempowered and, therefore unvalued. Living at the intersection of disability and non-confirming gender, the Deaf LGBT respondents constantly struggle in an ableist and gender-conforming society, which to them is a form of crucifixion. Social constructs of normality cultivate marginalization, violence, discrimination, intolerance of difference, control, exclusion, and injustice. They experience unfreedom, control, and deprival of their agency; nevertheless, they continue to resist, disrupt, and transgress the dominant constructs of ableism and gender conformity. This defiance is expressed through Deaf beki humor, which empowers them to navigate and subvert societal expectations of body and gender normality. They are unapologetic and assertive because their community has provided a sense of freedom and creativity cultivated through beki humor. They master walang hiyâ-hiyâ—confidence and assertion of agency, which served as a constructive catalyst that solidifies and sustains their relationship with themselves and the community. This relational space has forged freedom that enabled them to be their authentic selves. When they gather together, Deaf beki humor is a device that defies the heteronormative controls of society and the church. What might a Deaf beki humor as a theo-pastoral articulation look like?

Deaf beki humor: A theo-pastoral articulation of resurrection worth considering

If the concept of [resurrection] has any validity or any use, it can only be to make us larger, freer, and more loving.

Virgilio Enriquez’s Pagbabangong-dangal (1994) analyzes the Filipino pursuit of collective renewal and self-esteem reaffirmation. He explored the enduring impact of cultural domination on the Filipino psyche, arguing that it leads to the denial, destruction, and marginalization of Filipino identity. Enriquez’s work highlights the phenomenon of historical marginalization, exemplified by the Filipino Deaf LGBT community within Philippine historiography. Their rich culture and unique identities are rendered invisible due to their exclusion from mainstream historical narratives. This research project deliberately seeks to rectify this by foregrounding the lived experiences of individuals within a Filipino Deaf LGBT community.

Similar to other cultural minorities, the Filipino Deaf LGBT community aspires for societal acknowledgment and validation of their significance as a cultural-ethnic minority capable of redefining, rearticulating, and reimagining pagbabangong-dangal from their perspective as resurrection. Thus, by privileging their narratives and experiences, particularly their beki humor, this research project opens a critical inquiry into the current state of theo-pastoral practices. Such practices may exhibit implicit ableist biases, warranting reform.

Engaging in an attentive listening process akin to a synodal approach, while conducting this research and prioritizing the perspectives of individuals within the Deaf LGBT community necessitates a theopastoral articulation conducted with them, rather than for them. Historically, the theopastoral paradigm has often assumed a unilateral dynamic where the hearing community ministers to the Deaf. This paradigm perpetuates ableism and demonstrates insensitivity to the prevailing power differentials between hetero-phonocentric society and Deaf LGBT communities. It is imperative to dismantle our unconscious ableist ideologies, particularly in pastoral contexts where Deaf individuals are frequently portrayed as passive recipients of care. Persons with disabilities, including members of the Deaf LGBT community, should not be perceived as objects of charity or mere beneficiaries of welfare. Instead, this research underscores their potential as pastoral collaborators and even theological dialogue partners, capable of offering alternative interpretations of Christian core beliefs, such as resurrection, rooted in their lived experiences. Comprehensive discussions and partnership with them led to collaborative work, where we engaged and initiated an inquiry, aiming to rearticulate the Christian notion of resurrection through their distinct vantage point via the beki humor.

Throughout this research, the Filipino Deaf LGBT respondents have articulated a nuanced understanding of humor beyond mere amusement or elicitation of laughter; instead, they perceive it as a mechanism for empowerment. As members of a marginalized demographic, they have exhibited a form of humor-bending through beki humor, which functions as a potent devise or “script” of resistance that empowers not only individuals within the Deaf LGBT community but also resonates within broader Deaf communities.

Furthermore, their approach to and utilization of Deaf beki humor operates across personal and political spheres, extending even to activism. It is an empowering mechanism, allowing them to assert their identities on their terms. This approach aligns with the notion of emancipatory praxis (Milbrodt 2018) that transgresses dis/ableist ideologies and constraints. As Gary Albrecht (1999, 72) suggests, humor plays a significant role “in personal narratives… to give one's life meaning”; this resonates with the experiences of the Filipino Deaf LGBT respondents in this study. For them, Deaf beki humor as comic reversal serves a dual purpose: it helps them make sense of their Deaf world while simultaneously critiquing the marginalizing structures of the larger society.

As previously highlighted, Deaf beki humor transcends mere comedic structures and syntaxes; rather it operates as affect through which interpersonal connections are fostered with efficacy. Deaf beki humor, construed as a form of empowerment, disrupts the established norms by prompting a rethinking and reimagining of the Christian core belief of resurrection. Drawing from their encounters with discrimination and marginalization, the Deaf respondents’ reinterpretation of resurrection as a process and form of empowerment, aligns with Nancy Eiesland’s (1994) theological concept of a Disabled God. Eiesland argues that Christ’s retention of his crucifixion wounds in his resurrected body symbolizes an acceptance of disability. This reframing challenges the negative perceptions of disability as a deficit or tragedy. Instead, Christ’s wounds are viewed as a gain, as a permanent marker of his transition from death to life, and as celebratory emblems inscribed upon his glorified body. Eiesland's paradigm dismantles the notion of a “perfect” and fully healed resurrected body, asserting the inherent value and dignity of disability. In this reimagining and rearticulation, disability is not merely a gain but is elevated to a state of glorification. The triumph of resurrection or the pagbabangong-dangal articulated in beki humor is the process of self-acceptance and asserting agency. Disability, including deafness, should not be erroneously conflated with death, as a metaphor or where death is preferred over being disabled. Rather, disability constitutes a tangible reality that is a possibility for many of us. It is not merely a condition that some of us will transiently “pass over” or transition through; rather, it encompasses a spectrum ranging from temporary phases to a gradual progression toward permanence for many individuals. For many Deaf, disability is a mark of diversity. The resurrection is best articulated in the prevailing Deaf conviction —“Deaf can.” This sentiment is epitomized and expressed through Deaf beki humor, serving as a vehicle for empowerment.

In this context, Peter Berger’s perspective on comedy as “a counterworld, an upside-down world — lurking behind or beneath the world as we commonly know it” (Berger 2014, 192) is indispensable for understanding how Deaf beki humor operates, renegotiates, and reconfigures itself within a societal framework that frequently marginalizes and overlooks them.

Indeed, amidst the persistent encounters with disability injustice and gender discrimination, the Filipino Deaf LGBT community often finds themselves relegated to the margins; their intersecting identities as Deaf and gender non-conforming render them an afterthought. Nevertheless, they adeptly navigate these challenges by actively resisting and transgressing ableism and trans-biphobia through the use of beki humor.

The Deaf LGBT respondents’ queer humor has given us access to “different culture’s socio-religious imaginations” (Feltmate 2013, 532). Therefore, this research project posits that disability (queer/crip) humor, as demonstrated by Deaf beki humor, underscores not only its relational function that empowers them to navigate and negotiate in a society that sees them as a joke but also brings to the fore beki humor’s hermeneutic and heuristic potentials.

By considering them as collaborators and knowing the function of Deaf beki humor in their lives and their communities, their experience and embodiment of disability humor take a distinct form. Deaf beki humor articulates a specific kind of resurrection where shame is an intricate facet of dignity.

Therefore, in reimagining resurrection beyond a religious experience, highlighting their personal and cultural rereadings—such as understanding resurrection as insurrection—would expand the scope and possibilities of a new theo-pastoral paradigm and praxis (Knight 1998, 22). The pagbabangong-dangal turns resurrection into an insurrection, rendering it an epistemology emerging from the margins. Their unique perspective serves as a significant contribution to this project and future research, introducing an additional layer of insights from the margins that transgresses and enriches the broader academic endeavor that opts to commit to sectors or communities whose ontology and epistemology are often unjustly assumed, disregarded, or erased.

These respondents hope that in privileging their context, society, particularly the Catholic church would have a renewed appreciation of a nuanced perspective of the resurrection—an epistemological offer from the margins to the Christian faith(ful). Their inclusion in this project is indispensable and valuable, indeed.

Through Deaf beki humor, they claim ownership of their agency's power and are empowered —a form of resurrection as insurrection. Thus, disability (queer/crip) humor does not only show how life is a paradox, but it is also a parable, where we find ourselves as the punchline.

Bongga! ⁶