redefining the filipina
I actually started this before today- but only finished it today, so. Didn't make it. :|
Before, you could find two definitions of Filipinas in the dictionary- or at least, two words connected to them.
One was actually, Filipina: meaning, household help, or maid (and this was in Merriam-Webster. Of course, they'll deny that now.)
The other was imeldific, defined as ostentatious extravagance. Created out of the name of Imelda Marcos, whose shoe collection made her, depending on perspective, infamous or a legend.
It is ironic that these two words existed and were defined at the same time. One was born out of hardship- would you leave your family and serve another, if things were not strained and limited financially? The other was born of gluttony and greed: one story that used to circulate about the former First Lady was that she stopped her limousine in the middle of a crowded intersection in Europe in order to enter an atelier and buy only a single pair of shoes- one she caught sight of in the window, and was actually not for sale. European shoes! A luxury, especially when many children go about without even the simplest of their needs met.
One of these words no longer exist. Guess which one.
There is a question of identity, being Filipina. In the workforce, Filipino women are still being paid less than their male counterparts. A law allows concubines, and it is a pervasive double standard that a wife looks away when the husband strays, but yet another law dissolves a marriage simply on the accusation (without proof, even) of a husband of his wife's infidelity. There is marital rape that goes without discussion, incest that goes without outcry, domestic abuse that people hear through thin walls and never stop. Faulty driving in the street can easily be attributed to women- and there are more men in law (both practice and enforcement) and transportation and business.
There may be a woman in the presidential seat, but the idea is still very much that a woman's place is in the home- even when she goes to an office to work, when she comes home, she has to see to the children, cook dinner, do chores. She cannot leave all the work to a helper without leaving herself open to criticism.
The woman in the presidential seat still holds power- but not as much as she held when she first sat in office. If we are to believe some reports, she is the real first woman's president; the first one in 1986 was a puppet of male politicians who engineered the downfall and exile of Ferdinand Marcos.
One of the most famous (even exemplary) of Filipinas in literature was the pious, tragic virgin of Jose Rizal's Noli me Tangere, Maria Clara. Her beauty was much discussed in the book- pale, lovely round eyes and long dark hair. She was actually a secret lovechild of a Spanish friar- and was later victimized by a colleague of her erstwhile father's. She descends into madness, and later kills herself.
(This was the model for many generations of Filipinas. Maria Clara: Before the inevitable spiral down.)
Better obedient than rebellious. Better gentle and meek than strong and brash. Better quiet than outspoken.
Better seen, and not heard.
Better Maria Clara, than Sisa, another character in Rizal's novel- one whose story was not much better than that of Maria Clara. Her husband left her with two small children, both boys, who served as altar boys in the village church. Both were verbally and physically abused by the friars and church staff, which did not stop even with the tragic death of her youngest boy- which also sent her on an inevitable descent into hysterical grief, wandering the rest of her days calling out the names of her children.
There are more Filipinas in literature today- there is even a subculture of twenty-somethings writing chick lit pocketbooks, trying to emulate Western chick lit in its style and shock factor. I myself own a volume of erotica written by Filipinas for Filipinas. And yet the fact remains that some women (most, even) sidle into doctor's offices- and there, where it should be safer to discuss it, cannot even name the parts of their genitalia.
It is not unusual to lose your virginity before marriage; however, it is unbecoming to discuss it, especially simply to titillate and excite. Contraception for many is more of the man's choice than the woman's- there aren't any Planned Parenthood clinics here, and more than one schoolgirl or colegiala has been exported to relatives in order to wait out her pregnancy, in exile. Or get rid of it- but more often the option is to marry early, or to give the baby away. Not even to a stranger- some relative who will take care of it, so you can watch your child grow, and maybe even come to love it, the way some love a pet or a possession.
One ideal of being Filipina can be seen in art, from the eyes of a man- notably Fernando Amorsolo's work. She is hard-working, simple, pretty, virginal. When she smiles she holds secrets close.
Another is Darna- she's the Filipino Wonder Woman, stars on her breasts and all. She's bright, kick-ass, tough, no-nonsense; but when she spits out a stone she becomes an ordinary girl.
Men only wish we were that malleable, that open to the shaping of their desires.
What does being a Filipina mean to me? It means having skin that's not necessarily white or dark, hair that isn't exactly black. It's speaking a language that has issues with gender neutrality (we tack an -a at the end of doctor to make a female version). It's the knowledge that society's eyes are on you, that the boys you talk to measure you using an invisible yardstick that even they don't entirely understand.
The people who win our beauty pageants are nearly a different species than most Filipinas- who are short, don't have perfect bodies or hair, and who can't afford most of the beauty treatments that most pageant competitors (and winners) undergo regularly.
Their skin darkens, their skin wrinkles- their hands and feet become veined.
We have a voice in the government that goes unheard, named after a famous woman soldier who fought after her husband's demise, continuing his work. Her name was Gabiela Silang; the group that uses her name uses only her first.
Silang, like many Filipino words, changes meaning with the addition or subtraction of prefixes and suffixes. Silangan, for one thing, means the east, but it also means birthplace.
Isilang, is to be born.
We are not, collectively: prostitutes, porn stars, mail order brides, nannies and maids. Although some of us are, and whatever they do, they do for a reason. Sometimes it is for their families. Sometimes it is for themselves.
The Filipino word for woman is babae. Which is taken from the word babaylan, meaning priestess. Meaning, a figure of respect. Meaning, a woman of power.
The power cannot leave us, if it is always there.
Before, you could find two definitions of Filipinas in the dictionary- or at least, two words connected to them.
One was actually, Filipina: meaning, household help, or maid (and this was in Merriam-Webster. Of course, they'll deny that now.)
The other was imeldific, defined as ostentatious extravagance. Created out of the name of Imelda Marcos, whose shoe collection made her, depending on perspective, infamous or a legend.
It is ironic that these two words existed and were defined at the same time. One was born out of hardship- would you leave your family and serve another, if things were not strained and limited financially? The other was born of gluttony and greed: one story that used to circulate about the former First Lady was that she stopped her limousine in the middle of a crowded intersection in Europe in order to enter an atelier and buy only a single pair of shoes- one she caught sight of in the window, and was actually not for sale. European shoes! A luxury, especially when many children go about without even the simplest of their needs met.
One of these words no longer exist. Guess which one.
There is a question of identity, being Filipina. In the workforce, Filipino women are still being paid less than their male counterparts. A law allows concubines, and it is a pervasive double standard that a wife looks away when the husband strays, but yet another law dissolves a marriage simply on the accusation (without proof, even) of a husband of his wife's infidelity. There is marital rape that goes without discussion, incest that goes without outcry, domestic abuse that people hear through thin walls and never stop. Faulty driving in the street can easily be attributed to women- and there are more men in law (both practice and enforcement) and transportation and business.
There may be a woman in the presidential seat, but the idea is still very much that a woman's place is in the home- even when she goes to an office to work, when she comes home, she has to see to the children, cook dinner, do chores. She cannot leave all the work to a helper without leaving herself open to criticism.
The woman in the presidential seat still holds power- but not as much as she held when she first sat in office. If we are to believe some reports, she is the real first woman's president; the first one in 1986 was a puppet of male politicians who engineered the downfall and exile of Ferdinand Marcos.
One of the most famous (even exemplary) of Filipinas in literature was the pious, tragic virgin of Jose Rizal's Noli me Tangere, Maria Clara. Her beauty was much discussed in the book- pale, lovely round eyes and long dark hair. She was actually a secret lovechild of a Spanish friar- and was later victimized by a colleague of her erstwhile father's. She descends into madness, and later kills herself.
(This was the model for many generations of Filipinas. Maria Clara: Before the inevitable spiral down.)
Better obedient than rebellious. Better gentle and meek than strong and brash. Better quiet than outspoken.
Better seen, and not heard.
Better Maria Clara, than Sisa, another character in Rizal's novel- one whose story was not much better than that of Maria Clara. Her husband left her with two small children, both boys, who served as altar boys in the village church. Both were verbally and physically abused by the friars and church staff, which did not stop even with the tragic death of her youngest boy- which also sent her on an inevitable descent into hysterical grief, wandering the rest of her days calling out the names of her children.
There are more Filipinas in literature today- there is even a subculture of twenty-somethings writing chick lit pocketbooks, trying to emulate Western chick lit in its style and shock factor. I myself own a volume of erotica written by Filipinas for Filipinas. And yet the fact remains that some women (most, even) sidle into doctor's offices- and there, where it should be safer to discuss it, cannot even name the parts of their genitalia.
It is not unusual to lose your virginity before marriage; however, it is unbecoming to discuss it, especially simply to titillate and excite. Contraception for many is more of the man's choice than the woman's- there aren't any Planned Parenthood clinics here, and more than one schoolgirl or colegiala has been exported to relatives in order to wait out her pregnancy, in exile. Or get rid of it- but more often the option is to marry early, or to give the baby away. Not even to a stranger- some relative who will take care of it, so you can watch your child grow, and maybe even come to love it, the way some love a pet or a possession.
One ideal of being Filipina can be seen in art, from the eyes of a man- notably Fernando Amorsolo's work. She is hard-working, simple, pretty, virginal. When she smiles she holds secrets close.
Another is Darna- she's the Filipino Wonder Woman, stars on her breasts and all. She's bright, kick-ass, tough, no-nonsense; but when she spits out a stone she becomes an ordinary girl.
Men only wish we were that malleable, that open to the shaping of their desires.
What does being a Filipina mean to me? It means having skin that's not necessarily white or dark, hair that isn't exactly black. It's speaking a language that has issues with gender neutrality (we tack an -a at the end of doctor to make a female version). It's the knowledge that society's eyes are on you, that the boys you talk to measure you using an invisible yardstick that even they don't entirely understand.
The people who win our beauty pageants are nearly a different species than most Filipinas- who are short, don't have perfect bodies or hair, and who can't afford most of the beauty treatments that most pageant competitors (and winners) undergo regularly.
Their skin darkens, their skin wrinkles- their hands and feet become veined.
We have a voice in the government that goes unheard, named after a famous woman soldier who fought after her husband's demise, continuing his work. Her name was Gabiela Silang; the group that uses her name uses only her first.
Silang, like many Filipino words, changes meaning with the addition or subtraction of prefixes and suffixes. Silangan, for one thing, means the east, but it also means birthplace.
Isilang, is to be born.
We are not, collectively: prostitutes, porn stars, mail order brides, nannies and maids. Although some of us are, and whatever they do, they do for a reason. Sometimes it is for their families. Sometimes it is for themselves.
The Filipino word for woman is babae. Which is taken from the word babaylan, meaning priestess. Meaning, a figure of respect. Meaning, a woman of power.
The power cannot leave us, if it is always there.