Editor’s Letter: Misogyny Magma
Hiraya’s first narrative on its first anniversary commences with Feminism. But to better engage in this movement’s nobility and complexity, we first need to come clean about our inability to embody neither. Jancy Eugenio Nicolas reflects on the country’s misogyny… and his own.
Photo: Geomar Triño (Manila, Philippines)
By Jancy Eugenio Nicolas (Tondo, Manila)
February 5, 2022
Before we started wearing masks to protect ourselves from the coronavirus, some of us here in Luzon have briefly worn one prior to the pandemic. It is when the Taal Volcano erupted shortly ahead of Kobe Bryant’’s tragic death.
Those series of events back in January to February of 2020 were as vivid as the onset of the pandemic itself. I had a friend who was in Tagaytay to attend a wedding that was postponed on the day itself because of the volcano’s threat. Our own family outing was canceled because the rest house we’ll be renting back then was literally facing Taal lake. News about people starting to hoard masks to protect themselves from the Taal smog reaching NCR were being reported. This was actually my first time hearing about N95 masks, which was at the time, the more effective mask to protect yourself from the ashfall than regular surgical face masks. I actually gave one to our condominium building’s guard back then because I was concerned that he wasn’t wearing anything to protect himself given the knowledge that these ashes are like small glass particles (bubog) that could enter our lungs. There was also a question if we should open our AC units or not because information is being disseminated within group chats that the ash could enter your air conditioning. People were so afraid because a distant volcanic eruption’s particles reaching Metro Manila and some parts of Luzon is very much reminiscent of the destructive 1991 Pinatubo eruption.
Seems like it was a foreshadowing of some sort, right? From the mask-wearing (and hoarding), to the busy and panicked group chats, and even the postponed weddings and vacations!
I am astounded, among many things, by the fact that I lived within a lifetime when the then harmless Taal Volcano actually erupted. Remaining quiet as everybody’s picturesque Tagaytay backdrop since 1977, it was never really a matter of disaster concern compared to its more active counterpart in Bicol - the famous and majestic Mayon that would from time to time make its presence felt, landing on news headlines almost regularly.
But besides being a tad of a “warm-up” prior to the deadlier main event, in retrospect, the Taal eruption speaks to me now in a way that made me think about the other issues of our country that was also once quiet, subtle, appearing to be harmless… until one day, we wake up and realized that it has caused us a great deal of destruction we were not prepared for.
It reminded me of one conversation I had with a female friend.
“I was so absorbed by my views about the issue that I continued to justify my claims about the strong women empowerment in the country, even adding the so-called Tiger Asian Mom archetypes in the conversation. I thought that I’m actually doing more good than harm with my passionate monologue.”
We were talking about the Philippines being a matriarchal country. I expressed my opinion that compared to more advanced countries in the West, women here are more empowered and in charge of their lives. I even argued that a superpower like the US has never broken its highest glass ceiling - a barrier the Philippines has already broken through twice in the Corazon Aquino and Macapagal-Arroyo administrations. I was so absorbed by my views about the issue that I continued to justify my claims about the strong women empowerment in the country, even adding the so-called Tiger Asian Mom archetypes in the conversation. I thought that I’m actually doing more good than harm with my passionate monologue. And the freakin’ Beyhive in me, of course, was so sure that he got his feminism all figured out. Or so I thought.
If my memory serves me right, I said something like, “Sa dami ng empowered at matatapang na babae dito satin, parang wala na masyadong pang-aapi sa mga babae dito noh?” (With the increasing number of empowered women here [in the Philippines], it’s as if Filipinas are less oppressed here, right?) My words were followed by my friend’s nuanced opposition after I’ve already decided that the Philippines has completely won over the patriarchy. Then she responded with a polite but firm reply, “Huy hindi naman, Meron pa rin. Marami pa rin.” (That’s not exactly true. There still are. A lot, actually.”)
I was quietly embarrassed by my insensitivity despite my good intentions. I tucked this moment away in my memory bank and since then, when I witness any form of misogyny happening right before me, this awkward situation always resurfaces into my consciousness. And we all know that in recent years (since 2016 to be exact), we had a steady supply of glaring circumstances where we constantly witness women being oppressed, harassed, objectified, and disrespected by a quintessential misogynist that the Filipino people themselves elected in the highest and most respected seat in the country. That misogyny was condoned and defended by the majority and anyone who dares to call it out is antagonized with the label of the self-righteous critic that’s just so impossible to impress and will never have anything good to say to their precious, beloved… tatay.
Now tell me, Jancy. What’s so matriarchal about that?
Misogyny here in the Philippines is much like the damage Taal volcano caused. Taal isn’t exactly dormant. It is actually classified as an active volcano. And while it took 42 years before it exhibited its power once more, it had activities of volcanic unrest prior to its recent eruption. The oppression of the Filipina has become so systemic that we have dangerously come to terms with it as the status quo. It’s like a hot magma of subtle and outright misogyny boiling beneath the Earth’s crust. And despite the inevitability of it causing destruction in an indefinite future, our conditioning and lack of self-awareness make us unprepared for this disaster waiting to happen.
And just like my insensitivity with my “matriarchal society” remarks, sometimes, we would rather be comfortable with a volcano becoming a pretty turista backdrop while you sip hot coffee or bulalo soup on your next Tagaytay trip and forget what it actually is - dangerous, destructive, deadly.
Yet, despite my embarrassing anecdote, I also turned it into a teachable moment. Taking responsibility for the situation made me more open to learning and unlearning rather than giving in to the temptation of futile defensiveness.
It reminded me that while I grew up in a household of feminists and that I was lucky enough to be heavily surrounded by powerful Filipinas who are in touch with both their feminine and masculine, my feminist world is not a microcosm of the whole world. That while there’s a seeming balance among the two sexes in most situations I’m in, the hazy microaggressions against women don’t make toxic masculinity any less conspicuous.
“The oppression of the Filipina has become so systemic that we have dangerously come to terms with it as the status quo. It’s like a hot magma of subtle and outright misogyny boiling beneath the Earth’s crust.”
Unconscious misogyny is still misogyny. Conditioned misogyny is misogyny. The I-am-not-misogynistic-because excuses are misogynistic. The defensiveness is misogynistic. You may request for a gentler judgment for your unintentional misogyny and not be immediately labeled as misogynistic by such an incident but one must acknowledge that the unintended action or remark is still a living and breathing misogyny inside of you.
We are born into a misogynistic world. It isn’t our fault to be conditioned by a misogynistic society. But it also doesn’t help to deny our misogyny when facing the hard truths that you consider as an attack.
In her New York Times best-selling book Untamed, activist and author Glennon Doyle shares that white women enter race conversations feeling attacked or upset when their efforts seem to be unappreciated. Yet Doyle says in this latest memoir that “That truth feels like an attack because we have been protected by comfortable lies for so long.”
In the same book, Doyle admits the challenges to her own feminism as she “was raised in a sexist culture.” She brilliantly and truthfully writes, “The images of women’s bodies for sale, the onslaught of emaciated women’s bodies held up as the pinnacle of female achievement, and the pervasive message that women exist to please men is the air I breathed. I lived in a mine, and the toxin was misogyny. I got sick from it. Not because I’m a bad, sexist person, but because I was breathing misogynistic air.”
Personally, my queerness that makes me a minority was supposed to link me to women’s fight against the patriarchy. Yet, even that was not enough to prevent me from having misogynistic tendencies. Even being steeped in all of the Beyonce-ness and running the world didn’t make me a perfect ally for girls. I was appalled by my own assumption that empowered Filipinas no longer need my help and support thinking that their empowerment automatically translates to an empowering society. Truth be told, their empowerment of themselves is just symptomatic of their lack of power rather than it being an aftermath of an empowering society. They just have to claim it themselves rather than wait for an effed-up system to give it to them.
“When confronted by the limitations of our upbringing and called out on our prejudice, may it be a chance for us to stretch ourselves - and yes, being stretched brings major discomfort.”
But when my own feminism is challenged and I feel like I’m being overwhelmed by too many prerequisites, I turn to Roxane Gay’s words in her best-seller Bad Feminist:
“I embrace the label of bad feminist because I am human. I am messy. I’m not trying to be an example. I am not trying to be perfect. I am not trying to say I have all the answers. I am not trying to say I’m right. I am just trying - trying to support what I believe in, trying to do some good in the world, trying to make some noise with my writing while also being myself: a woman who loves pink and likes to get freaky and sometimes dances her ass off to music she knows, she knows, is terrible for women and who sometimes plays dumb with repairmen because it’s just easier to let them feel macho than it is to stand on the moral high ground.”
When confronted by the limitations of our upbringing and called out on our prejudice, may it be a chance for us to stretch ourselves - and yes, being stretched brings major discomfort. Dreaming of a better future in a constantly disappointing world is never easy. Always being on your toes in an era of cancel culture is never easy. Looking inward and admitting that there are things that we need to correct is never easy. Yet we’ve mostly tried living in a world that constantly says: That’s just the way it is. But did that lazy pragmatism ever make life down here actually easy?
Albeit the thing about volcanoes erupting and crisis purging our issues out is the fact that when the damage has been done, there is nothing to lose anymore. The worst has happened. Everything is literally out in the open. I want that more than the agonizing tension of a seemingly behaved crater convincing me with its outward beauty that all is well.
But I don’t want her beauty. I want her TRUTH.
So go ahead and erupt. There are a lot of things in this world that must be destroyed anyway.
