The Phobia of the Paranormal Pinay
Which is really scary? The women we were conditioned to believe as monsters or the dangerous narratives surrounding these iconic “Paranormal Pinays”?
By Iyana Mundo (Toronto, Canada)
May 1, 2021
“MAG-INGAT KA SA MGA MAGAGANDANG BABAE diyan sa tabi-tabi, paka-sigurado ka muna’t baka mamaya anong mangyari sa’yo,” (“Be careful of those beautiful and enchanting women lurking around. Make sure that they aren’t a threat,”) my Tito (Uncle) told me.
At first, I thought it was very weird advice given to a young girl until he later on added “Hindi lang tayo sigurado kung talagang tao ba ‘yan.” (We aren’t sure if they are really humans.”) The next thing I remember is me sprinting, crying, to tell my Mom that my Tito scared me.
The Filipino culture is rich in colorful stories that remain in the minds of people who grew up with it. Among all the stories I’ve heard in my life, Filipino horror stories are the ones I can’t forget the most, probably because it stands out the most, or maybe because the stories are almost identical no matter where it is told or who tells it. Among these stories are those of the Manananggal (viscera suckers) who apparently has the ability to detach her torso from her lower body and is in constant search of internal organs and blood; and the White Lady who is told to be the lost soul of a beautiful lady dressed in a traje de boda who only appears during dawn. The White Lady is particularly told to take on the persona of a beautiful woman who is avenging their death... or so this is what we were told.
The story of the Manananggal is one of those folk talks that really gets eerier when you’re in your home province in the Philippines, especially when it’s told by someone way older than you. As a little child, you take comfort in the knowledge of your Lolo, Titos, and Kuyas, and maybe also because they tell it as comfortable as if it’s a normal thing to tell a child. They tell us that there’s “a creature who by day appears as a beautiful woman, but who by night discards the lower part of her body. In its new form, the creature flies in search of people’s internal organs. It gains access to its victims by projecting its long tongue through crevices in the roof or between bamboo slats of the floor.” (Source) But what if the Manananggal isn’t really as bad as what they tell us? What if instead of looking for people to avenge on, she’s a symbol of desperate survival? What if instead of telling us that she hunts for internal organs at night, she’s really just like many of us in the poverty line seeking something to put on the table or is left with no choice but to knock on houses to ask for food? What if she’s more than just a tale to keep children at home, what if her story hides something about our culture that is seeking to be unveiled?
“But what if the Manananggal isn’t really as bad as what they tell us? What if instead of looking for people to avenge on, she’s a symbol of desperate survival? What if instead of telling us that she hunts for internal organs at night, she’s really just like many of us in the poverty line seeking something to put on the table or is left with no choice but to knock on houses to ask for food? What if she’s more than just a tale to keep children at home, what if her story hides something about our culture that is seeking to be unveiled?”
These tales sure bring me chills until this very moment to the point that even if I’m not currently in the Philippines, I refuse to turn off the lights while writing this. But it also caused me to be intrigued about its history and our culture in general. According to Raul Pertierra, a Sociology and Anthropology professor at the Ateneo de Manila University, the two most dangerous Asuangs (witch: evil spirit) take the persona of beautiful women who mainly target men or pregnant women; with the latter more commonly associated with female midwives who assist in giving birth. Accordingly, midwives are suspected to have unusual powers that are often related to miscarriages, and unusual powers like these are commonly associated with women.
During the Early Spanish period in the Philippines, midwives, faith-healers, and ritual specialists were seen by colonizers as influential not just to women but to every Filipino, where they were frequently tagged by colonizers as troublemakers because they have this ability to influence even the chieftain of their group. It is interesting to look at the gender comparison in this issue: when males are seen practicing their faith and doing rituals, they are thought of as someone who is devoted or faithful to their God; when men are seen outside at night, they are dubbed as brave; but when women are seen doing the same exact things, they are Manananggal - they are Asuangs. Maybe it’s not the Manananggal that we should be scared of after all. Maybe it’s our ability as Filipinos to just absorb everything that we were told, even if it sacrifices the very beliefs that make us Filipinos.
The change of beliefs after a colonizer invades a land is a common thread among many colonized lands that had strong Indigenous identities before European colonization, like the Americas who had the concept of female local authorities and two-spirited people (transgenders) stamped out of their history after the West colonized them because it contradicted the paternalistic Christian belief that men should be in power and that women’s only place in society is in the home. More so, this confinement of women in the private and domestic realms of the community produces a belief that women are non-violent and asocial and therefore complements men’s authority in the buzzing society. But this also produces another belief that ties women to the Asuangs who are known for their excessive asociality. My question still stands, how come that society easily accepts the fact that men are leaders, authoritative, and powerful, while women who are as capable of doing such things are deemed neglecting their role in society and are stereotyped as someone who is paranormal?
“It is interesting to look at the gender comparison in this issue: when males are seen practicing their faith and doing rituals, they are thought of as someone who is devoted or faithful to their God; when men are seen outside at night, they are dubbed as brave; but when women are seen doing the same exact things, they are Manananggal - they are Asuangs.”
Filipino women are often depicted as beautiful, calm, and caring; it’s either she’s all that or there’s a ‘but’ when it’s used individually: “She’s beautiful but. . .,” or in the words of my Tito, “She’s beautiful but don’t be so sure about her.” A White Lady is often described as a beautiful woman, one with long, black hair, and dressed in a white dress. She’s beautiful from afar but be careful when you see her in your rear-view mirror. The story of the White Lady is very popular among taxi drivers and men who often tell the same narrative about this ghost. In the infamous Balete Drive, there’s a black-haired woman, wearing a white dress, who from afar appears beautiful but when she’s near, her face is battered and drawn with blood. This woman was apparently killed and left in the area by a male suspect whose nationality and occupation vary depending on who’s telling the story. Some say that she was raped and killed by a Japanese soldier, or a driver molested, killed, and left her body there, or she was left by her supposed groom in the altar and killed herself hanging in a Balete tree, and she is waiting for a man she can avenge on for her death. No matter who or what this guy is, what stands out the most is how a beautiful lady is outside at night and the one who killed her is a man.
The White Lady’s story is among the many cautionary tales to tell women that their only place in this society is at home, or else they will fall victim to the arms of men who were allowed to be outside during nighttime. But why is she a cautionary tale? Why is she the one to be feared instead of the one who killed her? Why is it that the victim has now become the terrifying antagonist? Have we not come to a realization, that the White Lady’s back story might be an unconscious, classic and toxic example of victim-blaming perpetuated by misogynists? Does it not resemble those toxic and ancient remarks telling us that the reason a Pinay gets into trouble is her bold resolve to wear a mini skirt instead of calling out a Filipino man’s pure bad behavior?
It also strikes the question, why is the killer often depicted as a soldier, a driver, a man who occupies a job, whereas the White Lady is someone who just wears a white dress? Why is the depiction of women in our society often reduced to the external?
“What if our forefathers (or uncles, for that matter) told us stories about bravery; that seeking justice makes us courageous, that being in the outside sphere makes us determined and progressive?”
The White Lady is said to be waiting for her justice, and there should be nothing eerie about that. I think that there’s something more daunting about our culture that we should be scared of, and it is how easy for stories like these to permeate into society, and how we, as part of that society do nothing to question and challenge it. Yes, we should be haunted by the White Lady because we are here. We long for the justice of what happened to our culture, to our belief system, to our country, and how in that longing for justice we were lost and we turned it into something that makes another cautionary tale to tell women - that the world is not our place, and therefore seeking justice in it is like seeking for a ghost in broad daylight.
But it also interests me that what if the stories we were told were of a different kind? What if our forefathers (or uncles, for that matter) told us stories about bravery; that seeking justice makes us courageous, that being in the outside sphere makes us determined and progressive? What if these were the stories that are woven to us? Would we still be scared of a Manananggal or a White Lady, or would we aspire to be them?
These questions brought me to question my upbringing, but it also makes me hope that one day if there exists an afterlife, I hope that I get to ask the Manananggal and the White Lady what it’s like to be feared. How does it feel to live in a society where men are scared of women who are as capable as them? What is it like to be remembered as someone who is actually... powerful? It also makes me hope that we would someday seek to constantly question our own prejudice of the unknown instead of caving in fear just because we don’t understand things.
And now that I am an adult myself, I would tell better stories than those my Tito once told me. I’d say to my future children, nieces, and nephews, that a woman who possesses power does not make her a monster. It makes her BADASS.
