this story originally appeared in the philippine daily inquirer on June 11, 2002.
Contrary to what the folks from the Department of Tourism are saying, there are many reasons to hate Manila. For one thing, it is home to a lot of sexists. I get sad every time I’m reminded that I live in a city where people (both men and women, mind you) still believe that there are things we women shouldn’t do because of the seemingly monumental fact that God made us females.
For example, people generally think women who pursue the men they want are easy. Tell a guy you like him, and he and his friends will be talking about your supposed promiscuity the next time they hang around. If girls get to overhear them, they will make a big deal about it, too. Women are expected to pray to St. Valentine while we patiently (and pathetically) wait by the phone for that one call that will start it all. Funny how most of us women act as if we do not know how to use the goddamn phone when we want to chat with the men we’re interested in.
We are not expected to be “gentlewomen” either. (I still have to put the word in quotation marks because while there is such a word in the dictionary, it’s not that familiar.) One afternoon a few months back, I stood up and offered my seat in a jam-packed MRT couch to an old man who had gotten on board because he was obviously having a hard time holding on to the railings to keep himself from falling. Surprisingly (or should I say expectedly?), his face turned beet-red. He declined at first, so I had to smile and politely assure him that it was all right. (I swear I wanted to tell him bluntly, “Lolo, matutumba na kayo, nagpapamacho pa kayo diyan!”) Only when it became apparent to him that I was determined did he finally give in.
Once again, I felt frustrated at the reinforcement of my thinking that in Manila (and probably everywhere else), the license to be gentle is given only to men.
But no matter how pissed off I am, I still see the comical side to all the sexism around. People try to come up with justifications for the infamous (and, in my opinion, unjustifiable) “kasi babae” reasoning. What’s more, women actually buy the crap they make up. My former high school classmates claim that men should be the ones pursuing us because they care for us a lot and they want to spare us the agony of being turned down flat. (I wonder if they think we’re not strong enough for that because we’re not men.) My blockmates at the University of the Philippines say men act like gentlemen as a way of showing us that we are treasured and respected. A female classmate is even convinced that we really are weaker (which, of course, is not true, but to explain why will take an academic essay). Worse, society has been, either consciously or unconsciously, placing these chauvinist pigs on pedestals, making them think they’re magnanimous.
I have exhausted all means to point out to them that when a person cannot, should not, or must not do something not because they cannot do it but because of what’s between their thighs, then that is sexism. And that is precisely what they’re doing. But they keep holding on to their beliefs while I do the same with mine, until we all get exhausted and put it all off until the next time the topic comes up again.
I admit that there was a time when I believed Mama when she said that decent women waited for men to make the first move. I also thought my teachers were right in saying that the nicest and noblest of men were the gentlemen who offered to help women all the time.
But that was ages ago, before I started to ask why the heck we are deemed to be perverse when we do certain things that are not necessarily wrong, and before the answer to that question gave me more than enough reason to become a feminist.
In the end, I see people who are afraid of setting foot on an even playing field. I see men who are scared of having their egos crushed once society starts accepting women who court men the way it does men who court women. I see women who are unnerved by the fact that if egalitarianism were to be the way of life, then they could no longer expect to be seated in a jam-packed bus because their having boobs and asses would not matter anymore. I see people who are petrified by the thought of having to work twice as hard (or even more than that) just to get the privileges that now come with being a woman or a man.
And just when I think I’ve had more than my share of hang-ups, I remember that, like me, they grew up in a sexist society and were taught by sexist teachers (who also grew up in environments that were as sexist as the one they’re living in). So I end up all the more frustrated because I am raging against all bigots which I should not be doing because we are all victims of our patriarchal society.
As if managing to survive from day to day is not enough of a struggle already, I still have to put up with sexists who make life harder for a feminist like me. But then, it could also be said that I made my life a living hell when I decided to abhor machismo and embrace the egalitarian way of thinking.
Come to think of it, maybe I’m partly to blame as well.
