Dogeaters

The Alacran family symbolizes the elite Filipino families that emerged and prospered due to colonialism and the plantation economy. The family name Alacran, meaning “scorpion” in Spanish, subtly hints at their potentially harmful and powerful nature in society. This family, intertwined with the political landscape of the Philippines, exemplifies the corruption and extravagance often associated with the country’s ruling class during the Marcos era.

The Alacran family is comprised of Severo Alacran, the influential patriarch and tycoon; his wife, Isabel Alacran, a former beauty queen; their daughter, Rosario “Baby” Alacran; Severo’s brother, Pacifico Alacran, who is blind and father to Girlie and Boomboom; Blanca Alacran, Pacifico’s deceased wife and mother to Girlie and Boomboom; Boomboom Alacran, the indulged nephew of Severo; and Girlie Alacran, Severo’s niece and a beauty contest runner-up.

Severo is a quintessential archetype of a powerful tycoon in a postcolonial setting. His character is static, demonstrating the entrenched nature of corruption and power in Philippine society. Severo’s immense wealth bestows upon him a level of power that surpasses even that of the President, enabling him to manipulate the political landscape to safeguard his interests. Severo’s wealth and influence are highlighted through his luxurious lifestyle, from his mansion filled with expensive art and “rotting statues of unknown saints” to his hobbies of breeding horses. His physical description, “short and smells like expensive citrus” (27), alongside him publicly bragging that Alacran means “scorpion,” adds depth to his characterization.

Severo’s wife, Isabel, represents the roles and performances expected of women in the Philippines during the 1950s. Trapped by her marriage, Isabel is a static character, maintaining her position and outlook throughout the narrative. Isabel is characterized by her obsession with beauty and is disgusted when her daughter develops a rash; believing it is leprosy, she “won’t go near her” (39).

Severo’s interactions with his wife, filled with shouting matches and disputes, contrast his public persona of control and composure. Isabel plays the expected role of a woman in the postcolonial society perfectly, like Delores and the First Lady, she is “an asset to her husband” (29). His only legitimate child, Baby, becomes useful to him when she tells him she’s engaged to Pepe Carreon, and he realizes that she “isn’t so hopeless, after all” (34).

Baby Alacran, described as “not exceptional or beautiful” (28), starkly contrasts with her elegant mother. This difference is a source of shame for Isabel, underscoring the superficial values they hold. Baby’s “chronic case of eczema, seborrhea and God knows what else” (128) symbolizes her alienation from her environment and her inability to inhabit a traditional female role.

In the narrative, Baby’s life mirrors the broader societal issues in the Philippines. Her acceptance of her circumstances reflects the struggle of identity and values in the post-independence era. She becomes a passive observer in her life, seeking escape in movies, just as society uses entertainment as an escape from its politically complex reality.

A pivotal moment for Baby is her realization of eating a dish made of pig entrails cooked in blood. This mirrors her indirect participation in the oppressive social structures into which she is born. Despite her marginalized position within her family, she inadvertently benefits from and contributes to the societal structures that perpetuate inequality and authoritarianism. This duality symbolizes the internal conflict faced by women in postcolonial societies, torn between their own oppression and their role in larger systems of power.

The Avila family embodies various aspects of resistance in the face of authoritarianism. This group includes Senator Domingo Avila, a prominent figure in the leftist opposition; his wife, Maria Luisa Batungbakal Avila, an outspoken professor of Philippine history; their daughters Daisy and Aurora Avila; and Daisy’s cousin Clarita Avila, an artist deeply involved in the revolutionary movement.

Senator Domingo Avila, as a flat and symbolic character, represents the opposition to the authoritarian government. Patterned after real-life political figure Benigno Aquino, Senator Avila’s assassination represents the fate of many political dissidents. His character underscores the themes of sacrifice and the high cost of challenging oppressive regimes.

Daisy Avila’s character represents a significant departure from The Role of Women in a Postcolonial Patriarchy. Unlike Rio, she is not a third-party observer but a vehicle for change. As a dynamic character, she transitions from a passive beauty queen to an active resistor of oppression.

Daisy’s initial compliance with beauty pageant and societal norms is followed by deep introspection and depression. This phase of her character development foregrounds the dissonance between her individual identity and the societal roles imposed on her. Her renunciation of the beauty queen title reflects her rejection of patriarchal and superficial standards. This act of defiance juxtaposes the behavior of many of the other women in the novel, particularly the First Lady, who epitomizes the conventional roles women are expected to play. Daisy calls her out specifically, accusing the First Lady of “furthering the cause of female delusions in the Philippines” (137).

This transformation is further solidified by her experience of rape and torture at the hand of General Ledesma, which, rather than breaking her spirit, strengthens her resolve. She becomes a martyr figure, enduring personal sacrifices for a larger cause. Her unwavering stance even in the face of adversity is highlighted in her disappointment in her mother’s acceptance of General Ledesma’s rules of exile.

The President and the First Lady, as part of the novel’s political establishment, symbolize Colonialism and its Relationship to Authoritarianism and the Social Inequality and Power Dynamics. They are reminiscent of real historical figures, potentially mirroring Ferdinand Edralin Marcos and his wife, Imelda Romualdez Marcos. They are not explicitly named but rather suggested through allusions, such as the First Lady’s cultural center and her extensive shoe collection, which parallel known traits of Imelda Marcos.

As a former beauty queen, the First Lady encourages the participation of women in beauty pageants, perpetuating the idea that women’s value lies in their beauty and compliance. She symbolizes the facade of glamour and prosperity that masks underlying societal decay and corruption. She believes that “[t]here are no real issues” and claims that “[i]ssues are conflicts made up by the opposition to tear my country apart” (269). This attitude reflects the regime’s tendency to dismiss dissent and portray an image of unity and success. Known as the “iron butterfly,” the First Lady embodies both delicacy and strength, a paradoxical figure who is complicit in and burdened by the authoritarian structure she helps sustain.

General Nicasio Ledesma, as the chief of the Philippine military, is a symbol of the brutal and corrupt authority. His character is flat, more emblematic than fleshed out, signifying the impersonal and ruthless nature of the military regime. His enjoyment of torture at Camp Dilidili, where political prisoners are abused, underscores the sadism of his rule. His affair with Lolita Luna while maintaining a marriage with Leonor reflects his exploitative and domineering character. In both his public and personal life, he dominates those around him, believing he is immune to judgment.

Leonor Ledesma, in contrast, is a deeply religious woman, embodying the submissive and oppressed role of women in this society. Her marriage to General Ledesma, not out of love but due to societal and familial pressures, reflects the limited agency women have regarding their lives. Her constant acts of penance, aimed at seeking redemption for her husband’s sins, symbolizes the role of women as bearers of moral conscience within oppressive structures. Her character thus illuminates the intricate dynamics of complicity and victimhood navigated by women in societies dominated by patriarchal and authoritarian values. These acts are not just personal rituals; they are indicative of the societal expectation that women must somehow compensate or atone for the transgressions of their male counterparts, further entrenching the gendered divide in moral accountability.

Lolita is an actress and a secondary character who illustrates how the media industry is a microcosm of the broader societal struggles. On the surface, Lolita Luna appears charismatic and confident, but her life behind the scenes is marked by exploitation and domination by General Ledesma. She must maintain a perfect balance of the Madonna and Whore archetypes, representing purity and sensuality to satisfy the patriarchal expectations embodied by figures like General Ledesma and the societal gaze. Lolita reflects the broader societal dynamics in which women are idolized but also exploited and oppressed. For instance, in one scene, General Ledesma and Severo Alacran “[carry] around her used panties as it they were a fetish, like a piece of her they had carved off, like her skin” (215). This objectifying act implies ownership of Lolita’s sexuality and body. Lolita’s situation also parallels that of other female characters in the novel, like Isabel Alacran and the First Lady, who are similarly compelled to perform specific roles to uphold and satisfy patriarchal standards. Her fears and aspirations, including her desire to flee to America, indicate her deep internal conflict and the struggle for autonomy in a world where her identity is continually defined by others.

Joey Sands and his associated family of characters represent the marginalized and exploited segments of Philippine society, often overlooked or dismissed by the more privileged classes. Their stories shed light on the harsh realities of postcolonial Philippines, where colonial legacies continue to impact the lives of those at society’s fringes. Key figures in Joey’s world include Uncle, a manipulative pimp and drug dealer who essentially owns Joey; Zenaida, Joey’s deceased mother; and Boy-Boy, Joey’s childhood friend who later aids the guerrillas.

Joey is an Afro-Filipino teenager working as a DJ and a sex worker, who embodies the consequences of American colonialism. His character is deeply interwoven with themes of The Complexity of Postcolonial Cultural Identity, and Social Inequality and Power Dynamics.

Trauma from the early loss of his mother and his subsequent upbringing by Uncle haunts Joey throughout the narrative, surfacing in moments of vulnerability and crisis. This unresolved maternal relationship symbolizes Joey’s ongoing battle with his past and his quest for emotional anchorage.

His role as a sex worker, while seemingly giving him a sense of control and agency, often leaves him at the mercy of his clients. This dichotomy underscores Joey’s complex relationship with power—he oscillates between believing he is the one exploiting to actually being the one exploited, revealing the precariousness of his existence. His interactions with characters like Rainer Fassbinder, an affluent foreigner, exemplify this dynamic, as Joey engages in theft as a means to assert control, yet remains ensnared in a cycle of exploitation.

Throughout the novel, Joey’s journey is also a search for his identity, both in terms of his cultural heritage and personal self. His Afro-Filipino background places him at a unique intersection in Filipino society, where he grapples with issues of race, belonging, and self-discovery. Joey’s attitude his mother and the concept of maternal love undergoes a significant transformation. After waking up at Uncle’s shack, Joey whispers: “Zenaida, Zenaida” (248), indicating a shift from denial to an acknowledgment of his loss and desire for maternal affection.

Joey’s character arc is marked by a transition from passivity to action, and witnessing the assassination of Senator Avila catalyzes this transformation. This event forces Joey out of his apathy, pushing him into the tumultuous realm of political resistance. His subsequent refuge with the guerrillas, alongside characters like Daisy Avila, signifies a shift in his narrative—from a bystander in his own life to an active participant in the sociopolitical narrative of his country. In sharing stories about his mother with Daisy, Joey finds a semblance of closure. He can process his feelings and move a more nuanced understanding of his mother and, by extension, himself.