Girly Girls
to be published as lost and found column #15
As far as I was concerned, they were creatures from another planet. Never got along with them, had no idea how to. They spent long moments in front of the mirror before going back to class and sat together in corners during lunch break whispering about the cutest boys.
Maybe I’m a late bloomer or maybe I just have low EQ, but I never could sustain conversations with them for very long. And truth be told, it made me insecure. Was I normal? Why didn’t I have the compulsion to blab about the boys I liked? Why couldn’t I look fresh and neat no matter what hour of the day, and bat my eyelashes at just the right time?
Thank God this is one of those things that improve with age. Not that I’m evolving into a girly girl, although I now use lots of chemicals on my face other than soap and water. (Heck, I don’t even use soap anymore. We now have facial wash and body wash to suit our sensitive skin). And yes, I’ve developed my own eyelash-batting strategies.
But with age I’ve learned to accept that while I love the feel of a skirt against my legs, I also like riding motorcycles on mountain roads and walking barefoot in mud. Though I insist on figuring out by myself how an electronic gadget works, it’s great to have a guy open a can of tuna for me, especially when I’m hungry and can’t get the can opener to pierce the tin.
I’ve learned how to get off a jeepney gracefully even with a short dress on, walk in the rain in open heels and not get my toes dirty, but still haven’t dared to wash a pair of jeans by hand. I kept my presence of mind and chased after a robber who took my bag at knifepoint, but always panic the rare times I’m supposed to light a gas stove.
With age, I’ve realized: it’s OKAY. I AM female--just like any other human being trying to survive, this is who I am, constantly improving and adding to my life skills.
But I never dwelled much on this until I got involved in Babayeng Buhat, a project that required me, a woman writer, to partner with a woman painter on an artwork for Women’s Month. To my delight, my partner shared my sentiment that being women is not something we need to fight for or shove in people’s faces. It’s simply who we are, created differently from men for a different purpose.
Women’s Lib may have worked in the 60’s, but now it’s putting women in bondage by forcing us to compete with men and declaring the winners as the true women. I’m not less of a woman just because I don’t know which powder or pigment goes on which part of my face; but I’m not less of a woman, either, when I let a guy open the door for me or decide what movie to watch.
Feminism for me is not about being able to do everything men do as much as doing the best I can where I am with what I have--something that I believe should apply to any human being. We celebrate each other’s strengths, helping out where the other is weak.
Though my habits and hobbies will forever keep me from being a girly girl, I’ve grown to find things in common with them and appreciate their place in the world. The real liberation in being a woman--and being human--is knowing that we are exactly who we are meant to be, and loving every square inch of it.
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Babayeng Buhat, a visual and literary art exhibit, runs at the Ayala Entertainment Center from March 4 to 18, and at Robinson’s from March 21 to 31.
As far as I was concerned, they were creatures from another planet. Never got along with them, had no idea how to. They spent long moments in front of the mirror before going back to class and sat together in corners during lunch break whispering about the cutest boys.
Maybe I’m a late bloomer or maybe I just have low EQ, but I never could sustain conversations with them for very long. And truth be told, it made me insecure. Was I normal? Why didn’t I have the compulsion to blab about the boys I liked? Why couldn’t I look fresh and neat no matter what hour of the day, and bat my eyelashes at just the right time?
Thank God this is one of those things that improve with age. Not that I’m evolving into a girly girl, although I now use lots of chemicals on my face other than soap and water. (Heck, I don’t even use soap anymore. We now have facial wash and body wash to suit our sensitive skin). And yes, I’ve developed my own eyelash-batting strategies.
But with age I’ve learned to accept that while I love the feel of a skirt against my legs, I also like riding motorcycles on mountain roads and walking barefoot in mud. Though I insist on figuring out by myself how an electronic gadget works, it’s great to have a guy open a can of tuna for me, especially when I’m hungry and can’t get the can opener to pierce the tin.
I’ve learned how to get off a jeepney gracefully even with a short dress on, walk in the rain in open heels and not get my toes dirty, but still haven’t dared to wash a pair of jeans by hand. I kept my presence of mind and chased after a robber who took my bag at knifepoint, but always panic the rare times I’m supposed to light a gas stove.
With age, I’ve realized: it’s OKAY. I AM female--just like any other human being trying to survive, this is who I am, constantly improving and adding to my life skills.
But I never dwelled much on this until I got involved in Babayeng Buhat, a project that required me, a woman writer, to partner with a woman painter on an artwork for Women’s Month. To my delight, my partner shared my sentiment that being women is not something we need to fight for or shove in people’s faces. It’s simply who we are, created differently from men for a different purpose.
Women’s Lib may have worked in the 60’s, but now it’s putting women in bondage by forcing us to compete with men and declaring the winners as the true women. I’m not less of a woman just because I don’t know which powder or pigment goes on which part of my face; but I’m not less of a woman, either, when I let a guy open the door for me or decide what movie to watch.
Feminism for me is not about being able to do everything men do as much as doing the best I can where I am with what I have--something that I believe should apply to any human being. We celebrate each other’s strengths, helping out where the other is weak.
Though my habits and hobbies will forever keep me from being a girly girl, I’ve grown to find things in common with them and appreciate their place in the world. The real liberation in being a woman--and being human--is knowing that we are exactly who we are meant to be, and loving every square inch of it.
=======
Babayeng Buhat, a visual and literary art exhibit, runs at the Ayala Entertainment Center from March 4 to 18, and at Robinson’s from March 21 to 31.
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