Tag Archives: Womens Month 2015

komentaryo

Against divorce #WomensMonth2015*

One can’t believe it sometimes, the way the patriarchy is so pervasive in this country, the way men get away with being pa-cute and being pa-witty when asked about something they can’t quite wrap their heads around.

And no, I’m not talking about the every man on the street. I’m talking Senators of the land, making a joke out of the question of divorce.

Welcome to the Philippines. Where it doesn’t matter that the latest SWS Survey on Divorce reveals that 60% of Filipinos are actually now for it. (Inquirer.net, 23 Mar) (more…)

radikalchick.lit

competition* #WomensMonth2015 #IAmNotMyShoes

Here’s to the friendship
that could have been ours:
wife of my lover,
lover of my husband,
lover of my lover.

For women at both ends
are always rivals:
smiling for points
at a beauty contest,
icing the cake
at a cooking competition,
sprinting for the gold
as they race to a man’s heart. (more…)

radikalchick.lit

different women* #IAmNotMyShoes #WomensMonth2015

Six months since she’s arrived
And yet she does not speak.
She must have been chained;
This I guess from the bruises
On her wrists. But she will not
Let me touch them.
She trembles at the sight
Of tall men, more so at those
With shadows on their lips. (more…)

radikalchick.lit

relationships and freedom* #WomensMonth2015 #IAmNotMyShoes

I.
You are the earth and all that earth implies:
The gravity that ballasts me in space,
The air I breathe, the land that stills my cries
For food and shelter against devouring days.
You are the earth whose orbit marks my way
And sets my north and south, my east and west,
You are the final elemental clay
The driven heart must turn to for its rest. (more…)

radikalchick.lit

motherhood in a time of war* #SAF44 #WomensMonth2015 #IAmNotMyShoes

… mourn a woman’s
bitter lot: to give birth to men
who kill and are killed.
                              Grace Monte de Ramos

                                              That morning alone
he had sunk ten warships, downed four planes,
marched countless armies across unseen
territories, borders mapped only in his mind.
Gunpowder and ash stained his arms and shirt,
across one chubby cheek, a brave streak of red. (more…)