Content warning: This article discusses bullying. Reader discretion is advised.
Martin Nievera was not always the confident man audiences see on stage. Before he became the Concert King, he was just a kid eating lunch with the other outcasts, trying to stay out of harm's way.
The veteran singer opened up about being bullied during his childhood in Hawaii on the sixth episode of Gary Valenciano's podcast Unshaken. The conversation started on a lighter note, with Gary sharing his first memory of Martin – a young heartthrob who had an entire army of students clearing the way for him at a show.
"The first time I met him was in a place called Miriam College. At that time, it was called Maryknoll. And I didn't even meet him. I saw him from a distance with all the minions of Maryknoll, or Miriam students guiding him and telling me, 'Excuse me, sir, but Mr. Martin Nievera has a show. Can he go ahead of you?' Now, this was like the 15th time that night that I was told the same thing. So I ended up becoming the last performer following Martin Nievera, who at that time was the biggest thing. He was the newest, the biggest, and the brightest star that was shining," Gary recalled.
He also remembered how Martin performed a song that night that Gary himself had planned to sing, except Martin's version had been specially arranged by Homer Flores, while Gary's came from a copy he bought at Unimart.
"That's the first time I laid eyes on this man. Who knew that we would actually do a show together called 'Rhythm of the City'? Like MTV kind of thing back in the day," he said.
Gary went on to praise Martin's ability to connect with people – on stage and off – noting that it was something he had observed from the very beginning.
"I love talking about the journey I've had with this man, Martin. That's how I remember you. You've been consistent from that time until today, being a solid friend. When people see you and they see you on stage, if there's one thing that they notice, it's the way you connect with your people. You have always been one that I've learned from with regard to how to communicate with people, how to feel the moment, how to handle things that are unexpected," Gary said.
Martin credited years of mistakes for shaping who he is on stage today. "Because I am a person. And I think that sometimes I read the minds of my audience, and I think that they know when I'm struggling, they know when I'm not secure, they know when I'm not prepared. So I always make the obvious really obvious," he said.
Gary then pointed out something specific about Martin's stage presence – the way he can bring an audience member into the spotlight without ever making them feel embarrassed.
"Some people are funny on stage, but then sometimes nangingibabaw 'yung pagiging nakakatawa nila. Compared to their talent, yours is just spot on. You're singing a song, and you go down to somebody who doesn't even know how to sing, and people laugh at that person, but you don't treat it like a joke, you treat it like a fun time," Gary said.
That observation led Gary to ask where it all came from. The answer took the conversation somewhere unexpected.
Martin revealed that as a child, he was constantly bullied across the public schools he attended throughout America. In Hawaii, his mother insisted on dressing him in tucked-in shirts, belts, and penny loafers – clothing that marked him as an outsider in a school environment where that kind of look drew unwanted attention.
"I've always been, as a child, I've always been picked on. I've always been bullied. I used to have lunch with special kids, with obese kids, with very skinny kids. Races back in the '70s and '80s were really awful," he said.
"I would have lunch and recess with them, because I would be hiding along with them. Now, why was I hiding? Because I was always a fat kid. Or in Hawaii, if you wore a belt and shoes, that's trouble. You're either rich or gay," he added.
The bullying was not just teasing. It was physical.
"So I was always picked on as a kid because my mom always made me wear clothes — you tuck in your shirt, you wear a belt, and you wear penny loafers. You don't dress like that in a public school in Hawaii. I would dress like that in school, so I would get beat up a lot. I would get my lunch money stolen. Because I went to public schools all over America, where I grew up," he said.
His twin sister Vicky would step in to fight for him – but that only made things worse the next day.
"Vicky, my twin sister, would fight for me. So the following day, I would get beat up even more because 'Why is your sister fighting your battles?' But in my case, when I would get beat up or when I would get my lunch money taken and so on. Vicky, my twin sister, would fight for me," he said.
Martin said those years of feeling small and defeated are precisely why he treats every audience member with dignity, including the ones who cannot sing a note.
"I think it's that being so defeated all the time, walking through school with my head down all the time, trying to hide myself. I'm able to, I don't know, I guess relate to the people in the audience who, if just by chance, I choose someone who is not a great singer, if by chance, I choose someone who actually maybe doesn't have teeth — I didn't know until they opened their mouth when they started singing. I don't make fun of them because I know what that feels like. I've been there before," he said.
In the same interview, Martin also talked about his lifelong dream of becoming a singer, one he traced back to watching his father perform with the popular pop group Society of Seven.
"My father was a singer with a group called the Society of Seven. I always dreamed of being one of the seven," he said.
He admitted he was not a natural. In fact, he was not good at all.
"Absolutely not. Oh, my God. It was terrible singing," he said when asked if he could sing well as a child.
Gary pressed him on it: "So how could you have that dream if you didn't even think that you could sing?" Martin's answer was simple. "That's why it's a dream. When my dad would go out on stage and sing, and the way he'd interpret a song, more often than not, he would always get standing ovations. He would get those big power ballads back in the day, the impossible dream and so on. So I wanted that. I wanted that same feeling – my hair would stand up as a young kid, you know?" he said.
"I was falling in love with love. I had never been in love in my whole life, but I was feeling that feeling that he was getting, and I said, 'That's what I want to do. That's what I want to become.' But I didn't know if I could sing," he continued.
As it turned out, his father had a sense of what was there all along. He would secretly record Martin singing in the shower and play the tape at the dinner table – less as encouragement and more as teasing.
"My father used to take a tape recorder, and then when I'm in the shower singing, he'd tape-record my singing from the shower and play it at the dinner table. And embarrass the heck out of me because he'd do that every night," Martin said.
When Gary asked if his father knew he was blessed with a voice, Martin laughed it off.
"I don't know if blessed is the right word. Very generous with the word. I think the word is more because he was trying to tease me with that. But that's how it was discovered," he said.