by Adi C. Quisido
This column talks about women, specifically women of power. I found it a little limiting to write about women in power, and thought it would be more liberating to write about women of power. That would give me more leeway in writing about different stories of women, from those in top level executive positions, to those noble-hearted classroom instructors, to the selfless women organizers who empowered fellow women to make a better life in their community.
Heck, we can even have that woman selling banana cue near Ateneo who I was told put her children through college with her meagre income. What a feat that is, and what power she exhibited hurdling that formidable challenge.
Women like this make a difference in other people’s lives, and that’s what I aim to capture in this column. Since it will be International Women’s Day on March 8, I would like to pay tribute to women. And with whom shall we start but our mothers?
March 8 is incidentally my mother’s birthday, and I used to find it ironic that she was born on the date when women’s empowerment is celebrated. That’s because I never saw her as empowered when I was a child. I grew up in a family dominated by men, even though there were more women than men in the family. My father was the eternal patriarch, while my mom the silent, dutiful wife who attended to his beck and call.
It was only when we were all grown up that I realized the real power lay in my mother’s hands. As my father travelled abroad for the good part of our childhood, my mother brought up five strong-willed daughters who now enjoy their chosen paths, majority with thriving careers in different parts of the world. I think that speaks a lot about the regal looking woman who gave us gentle words of advice, which we realize, now that we’re older, were really nuggets of wisdom.
I think that’s the case with everybody’s mothers. They gave us life, cared for us, and set us off to live our own lives. Whether they were working moms or stay-at-home moms, they all deserve our tribute because being a good mother is one of the most difficult roles to take on in life.
So I pay extra homage to those women who performed more roles other than being mothers. They may have chosen to take on several roles at the same time, but more often than not, they had to do it because they had no choice.
To Aida, the simple housewife who lost her husband as he fought for labor rights, and who had to summon the courage from within herself to raise three kids on her own. Aida did not only empower herself, she became an organizer of women while working for a women’s research institution back in the 80s. She taught women they had the power to change their lives by teaching them skills and showing them their inherent rights as women.
To Ma’am Luz, whose human rights lawyer husband was detained at the height of the people’s movement in Davao three decades ago. She was unwittingly thrust into the limelight as the wife of a political detainee. She was my professor and one of the most admired in Ateneo. She is now in Congress advocating women’s rights.
To Manang Sufferina, that dark-skinned, weather-beaten woman farmer I had interviewed decades ago for the book “Women’s Stories from the Land of Promise”, who tilled the land with their loyal carabao, because she was stronger than her frail husband. She had braved the scorching heat of the sun and mustered all her strength to plow the hard, unforgiving dirt under her bare feet, so she could feed her family.
To Amy, the political detainee turned researcher and women organizer, whose intelligence and artistic skill could not be held back by years of being behind bars. She illuminated hundreds of women with her eloquence and talent. She used her artistic skills to illustrate complex ideas while giving seminars to women, teaching them how to improve their welfare through basic women’s education and skills training.
To that battered woman who left an abusive husband to save herself, and reared three children alone. Working in a women’s institution allowed her to empower other women in the same situation, making them realize they did not have to bear the violence inflicted upon them, that they could fight back by emancipating themselves from the abusive relationship.
To the wife who devoted her life to six wonderful kids, but whose husband barely treated her well. She always had a ready smile for the rest of their family and friends, while carrying the hope of having a respectful and honest marriage. She finally had the courage to leave when faced with indisputable proof of her husband’s philandering ways.
To that grandmother who bravely came out as a comfort woman during the Japanese occupation. Her withered frame and genteel eyes belied a determination of steel, wanting justice, no matter how late in her life, for the horrifying acts committed on her person decades ago.
To that mail-order bride who gathered enough courage to come out and tell her story to the public, despite the disdain of other people, so that women may learn that finding a foreign husband by way of mere correspondence does not necessarily lead to a charmed life.
There are countless other stories of women that I won’t be able to share here, but they all deserve the tribute.
If you’re a woman, whatever your story is, there are other women out there who share your plight. If all these women I mentioned were able to break the shackles that imprisoned them in whatever dire straits they were in, you too can do the same. So, grab the power and go change your life.
