#for irrational and unjust decisions and opinions they have especially in the beginning of a plot

[scarefox]

me @ people who are pissed at Porsche the first 2 episodes: don’t you know what fun is?

[gianinnaczareena]

How 24-year old Ninai came to realize who she is, and what she’s meant for.

I feel that some of you may want to know who is behind this “blog”, and I figured that the best way everyone can get to know me is by reading this personal essay I submitted for my Feminist Theories and Movements class in UP Diliman under the College of Social Work and Community Development--Women and Development Program.

Here goes:

My journey to self-discovery is rooted to feminism. 

 Way back when the word wasn’t even making headlines. Back when I didn’t even know there was a word for what I was becoming.

It started out with two important questions: 1) Will people never stop dictating what I can or cannot do for myself? and 2) Will decisions be made for me when I can make it myself?

Growing up, I used to think that freedom is a reward given to you when you: listen, behave, cooperate, and follow—which is ironic given that, well, it should be free. I grew up in a very patriarchal environment (both household and society), although before we didn’t know what patriarchy was or that it even actually existed. What I grew up knowing was already considered normal and natural. Patriarchy was “the way, the truth, and the life.” Pun intended.

I cannot exactly pinpoint when and where patriarchy began in our household. I was young and naive, all I did was behave, play by the rules, and follow the values being passed onto me without a second thought and without asking questions. Because then, asking questions meant you’re being disrespectful. But if anything, I think it started when my father told my mother, right when they got married, that she “need not find work” and to “just raise the kids” because he will “provide for the family”. If I were a damsel in distress I would probably sigh and swoon when a man tells me that I need not worry about anything because he will provide for me, but I am not a damsel in distress.

Let it be known that I do not blame my mother for saying yes and my father for offering her a “way out”. She got married right after college. She was only 21. My father was 26. They were simply a traditional Filipino family (husband = breadwinner; wife = housewife).

Cesar, my father, had nothing growing up. He was a farmer’s boy. He believed in education and fought hell and high water to attain it. And with hard work and determination, he earned his doctoral degree. He wanted to be better—to be able to provide when his parents could not. He did not want us to go through what he went through. That is why I know he meant well when he dictated himself as the provider of the household and Genevieve, my mother, the ultimate carer.

But the dictation did not end there. I have three male siblings which makes me the sole daughter of the Sumalde-Chavez household. And being the only daughter of a patriarchal household has never been an easy thing. Rules come off as either protective or downright oppressive. And in this case, it’s mostly the latter. And when household rules are strengthened and solidified by society’s standard of what is right or wrong, what is acceptable or unacceptable—to challenge it means you’re at the losing end.

When I was younger, my parents—Cesar, especially—have dictated what I can or cannot do. (Again, I know they meant well. I don’t hold anything against them.) I remember my father did not approve of my all too-short hairstyle (borderline boy cut) that Mom had imposed on me when I was very young--but in all honesty, I didn’t mind. And I, being a firm believer of comfort before style, do not cut my hair as a symbol of my sexuality—but a symbol of preference in comfort. He would also rarely let me leave the house for fear of my safety, but he would let my Kuya wander off late at night until 3 in the morning (to be fair, this was when he was still “young” now he really just stays at home or at work). We were only two years apart.

Other than that, I would be scolded for every time I do not “sit like a lady”. And I don’t, because what does “sit like a lady” even mean? Why am I not allowed to sit with my legs apart, to take up space, when all the men in my family would open their legs just as much and just as wide? How are my legs different from theirs? Even with the clothes I wear, sometimes there were rules laid out for me: no shorts, no sleeveless (unless I wear a sarong or a jacket), no spaghetti straps, no this, no that. They didn’t have to say it, but  I knew it was because they were afraid that I might become too “inappropriate” or be disrespected for wearing less.

More than the physical, there are things that I am not allowed to do like talking back or having an opinion. I guess it’s usual for kids to talk back to their parents—both female and male—during an argument but how come girls are heavily punished compared to boys when they do? Why are boys even expected to talk back and girls are expected to shut up and be quiet? Even apologize?

So, growing up stricken with all these “rules” I did what any perfect daughter would do: behave. I didn’t stay out late. I didn’t drink. I didn’t do drugs. I didn’t party. I didn’t “hang out with the wrong people”. And when I did do any of those things, it was rare and guilt would often follow me. (Except for the drugs part. I never did that.) All these for fear of not just disappointing my family but as well as society who is expecting a lot from women like me. In fact, all I did was go to school in the morning, train at night (as student athlete and leader) then go straight home. I played the part up until college was over.

As I said at the beginning of this personal essay, I thought freedom was a reward given to you when you: listen, behave, cooperate, and follow the rules. I did all those and still, the dictation never really stopped, at least not with society. My traditional, conservative parents are gradually becoming progressive as I grew older: lax and open-minded, accepting and trusting. They were slowly realizing that I am becoming a woman of strength and direction (I realized that communication is all we needed). But, overall, the rules (now controlled and imposed by society) are still there: “you’re not allowed to go home late because you’re a girl”; “you're not allowed to drink because you can’t keep up with the boys”; “if you cut your hair short again people might think you’re a tomboy”; and “don’t wear shorts when you go out strangers might disrespect you”.

I realized then, when I finally had enough of these limitations, no matter how insignificant or unimportant they may seem, that the rules that were being imposed on me were made so that the people around me will accept and respect me as a human being. 

And if I “misbehave” I became alienated. 

Disowned. These rules are making me adjust to people and situations, I am basically being unconsciously asked to behave a certain way for people and not the other way around: “don’t cut your hair people will think you're a tomboy”, “don’t wear clothes that are too short or revealing someone might rape you”, “don’t talk too much people will think you’re opinionated” and “if you cry people will think you’re weak”. All of these have led me to a conclusion: freedom is only an illusion when you’re oppressed.

My personal conquest to attaining my so-called freedom made me realize that my problem wasn’t just mine alone. 

It was a problem that majority of the women share together. Young and old. That was when I was slowly becoming aware of myself and my surroundings. I now see, with my own eyes and my own understanding, how unjust and unfair women are being treated at home, at school, at work, and most especially, at the streets. From the length of our hair, the size of our skirts, and the height of our heels, rules are being dictated. Rules that came mostly from the white and the male. It created a culture: a culture where women are less than men. Insignificant and irrational. Subordinate and weak. A second sex.

I understood what I wanted to do. I wanted to fight back. My aim wasn’t to make women better than men but be equal with them. I want the women, the marginalized, and the oppressed, to have the same amount of rights—without the double standards. 

I want women to be recognized equally, to be credited where credit is due, to be seen, and heard. I want our voice to be just as loud as men—important and valid, respected and powerful. I want the decisions made for women are made by women. I want them free from harmful limitations. 

It is a bold and ambitious dream—but a goal nonetheless.

Hence, why I decided to take a Women and Development course/subject. If I wanted to make a change, no matter how small, I had to be educated first. This, I am sure of. And I come in this course admitting that there are things I still do not know about feminism or things I am still unsure of, and I believe that WD 210: Feminist Theories and Movements is the right choice for what I wanted to do.

I want to learn what feminism was before it was even “invented”. I want to learn how feminism became from demanding equal rights to fighting for human rights. I want to know the extent of the influence of the #MeToo movement to our country and how it can raise social awareness most especially to victims of sexual assault in male-dominated industries. I want to challenge the local media representation of women: that women are more than just their bodies—the breast, the curves, the legs, and the nudity—that women’s bodies should not be an instrument and medium of salacious content. I want to challenge the ad industry for misrepresenting period blood because women don’t bleed blue. We bleed red. I want women to walk the streets in daylight and at night time without having to fear for their safety. I want more women leaders in government that can accurately provide solutions for women’s needs. I want to help erase the negative connotation the word “feminism” has: that feminism does not equal to man-hating. That it is not anti-men.  

And above all else, I want to understand the different meanings of feminism and how it differs based on sex, class, race, nationality, and demography. That women of color don’t exactly share the same meaning of feminism to white women. These are the things I want to learn if I want to make a change.

Because to me, feminism means that the women, the marginalized, and the oppressed are allowed to do whatever they want for themselves without having to worry how people would react. I want them to be provided the same amount of privilege and credibility that the white and the male have.

Women have been suffering for centuries and we didn’t even know it.

We stood, we watched, we followed because we thought it was right and normal. For too long, we have endured the pain of being silenced, controlled, dictated, and overpowered. Everyday, more and more women are opening their eyes to the Truth, and the possibility of a future where they can share the same spotlight with men. The fight for our voice to be heard is far from over but with an idea, with an initiative, and with the willingness to learn, to grow, to share and educate we can have a better a better country—a better world—where sex of a human being will not dictate a man or woman’s worth.

Feminism started out as a thought; an idea. Today, we will end it as a result.