Womanly Culture

Davao City was given a chance to honor St. Therese of Lisieux and St. Camillusin different instances when their heart relics were brought to the localparishes just a few weeks apart. As I sat at one of the back pews in St. Paul Parish, I observed that the crowd was composed mostly of women. Approximately, three-fourths of the church was filled with patiently waiting and praying females. So many things play in my mind why this is so. Is this a testament to women being the more needful gender and thus any line to divine assistance will always be exhausted? Is religion truly opium for the women who bear most of their family’s burdens? Are women truly privy to the benefits of a faith that is scoffed at or belittled by the more practical and seemingly logical among us? Etc, etc., etc…
I once met a Nepalese woman leader who was a Ramon Magsaysay Awardee. She said she loves how women in our country always get to speak and make decisions freely. Even if she already heads a large organization and is responsible for many lives, she still has to walk on tenterhooks lest she be frowned upon by their patriarchal society. She expressed admiration for our organization wherein women mostly called the shots and were not hesitant to do so.
I once met a kind and very gracious woman healer in her 50’s. Sitting down together for a meal, I asked her why she never got married. She simply and neutrally answered that the male culture is just very different. I did not pry further and left it at that. Much later, I found out that she wasbrutalized during the Marcos regime. She was abducted and gang raped by military men because of her activism. She was featured in one of the documentary channels on cable and she painfully recounted how the sexual organs of the depraved men entered the different orifices of her body when beating her became too tame a sport. Today, it is her purpose and meaning to soothe and heal people in need.
I teach philosophy and endeavor to impart to my students an appreciation for the depth and profundity of life. I do my share in creating positive impact to the community. I write. I have represented the country. I try to live and love well. I acknowledge the Divine and orient my life towards such a Reality. However, medical science has decreed that I could not conceive a child through natural means. However, I do not really cook and utterly lack domestic skills. However, I do not carry my husband’s surname, even if I love him with my entire being, because I have a choice. For all intents and purposes, I am not the quintessential wife. One seemingly insensitive male made a jesting comment, “Cook and give your husband a baby so he’ll be happy.” It may have been a joke but you know what they say about jokes. The ugly head of the male culture rears itself every now and then despite evolution, education, and enlightenment.
As I make my way to touch the relic and lift up a short prayer, electricity runs through my body. Emotions suddenly spring forth from within me that do not seem to be my own. In a flash of inexplicable clarity, I understand that I am experiencing the burdens of others and I am interceding for them. I suddenly fall to the ground and black out. But still I feel my husband’s strong arms carry me. When I come to, I find myself uncontrollably shaking, crying, and speaking in tongues. I apologize to the people around me for making a spectacle of myself. A doctor checks my head for any concussion. A priest tells me not to be sorry because what happened was a blessing.
Really?