In Three Filipino Women (1999), three novellas in one book by National Artist for Literature F. Sionil Jose, we have seen three particular faces of strength. These “faces” do not refer to skeletal frame or skin enveloping a human being. These faces are geographies that stand as allegories for all Filipino women meant to endure life amidst its disappointments, so in the process and more so in the end, they could overlook, with tenacity and sense of victory, the pivotal role they have played in the making of a nation devoid of discrimination and oppression.
The Face of an Intellectual
In “Cadena de Amor”, Narita Reyes, known for her beauty and wit, is an epitome of a woman leader, who longs to break the chains that bind her – being a woman – in the world of politics. Where men in their starched barong and audacious loins reign, politics is important to women, for in this arena they have the chance to prove their worth and power as they come in equal footing with men in acquiring and embracing wealth and influence. But Narita, surprisingly, was portrayed as an intellectual willing to cheat and bribe to get what she desires, as what she had learned from her power-that-be father-in-law.
The use of Lopito, Narita’s late husband, in his suicide act, appears to be intentional to blend with the attempt to elevate Narita’s political inclinations and sexuality. Women, as implied by this story, do not only yearn to parallel with men’s intelligence and skills in politics but make everything possible so their craving for domination is quenched and served. However, the tape recordings of accounts of people around Narita intervening the course of narration prove that in woman’s poisonous passions, there still lie vulnerability and poverty of spirit. Given the history of her childhood, the rise and fall of Narita dazzles us with the truth that the past has never stopped haunting us. It lurks in the shadows, ever ready to strangle and pounce.
On the other hand, cadena de amor, which literally meant “chain of love”, contradicts the nature of the chain muddling the female protagonist. It is not love that obstructs her from doing what she wants. Instead, love pacifies her in the immensity – I should say wickedness – of her strategies to get into power. It is love that, like the vines clambering over the brick walls of their old house, waits for her return. Love withers its leaves but does not fade in itself.
The Face of an Activist
The title of the story “Platinum” came from Malu’s term of endearment to the narrator who was then called as “Teng-ga” or lead. The platinum’s weight and luster reflect not on the male narrator’s personality but on Malu herself. The strength of will, as shown in her efforts to reach out to farmers and other marginalized sectors, does not wane until she breathed her last. The stereotype of a woman in a Filipino society – a woman expected to rear children and to submit to her significant other – melts away in Malu’s characterization. Add to her aura her endowed ability to see and communicate with supernatural entities.
“Did it ever occur to you that revolution is not just shooting and dying? It is also cooking, typing, keeping files, planning, teaching – and organizing?” Unlike Narita Reyes, Malu engrosses her life to take actions to help the poor and society’s outcasts alleviate their own sufferings, not on parading haute couture gowns upon speaking in commencement ceremonies. A covert member of a rich family, Malu steps out of her lair filled with chandeliers and telephone showers and fought for a cause, risking her life which was then surrounded by the horror of Martial Law.
“Flashes of fire spurted from the snouts of their guns and the bullets winked like fireflies as they hit the asphalt. Malu, my dear wife, crumpled and even when she was already dead, they still fired at her.” This brutal and gory ending scene stylized the horror women, up to this day, experienced: that in their dramatic defiance of senescent double standards, they are still shot not with guns but with recurring statements of ignorance and humiliation.
The Face of a Courtesan
I encountered Ermita Rojo in a longer version of her story in Ermita (1988). With this condensed equivalent “Obsession”, F. Sionil Jose has excellently laid the character of Ermi on the table for us to scrutinize and ponder on by centering on Rolando Cruz’s POV filled with obsession over the most celebrated prostitute. Roly admits his being masochist, the deliberate pleasure he feels whenever Ermi was accompanied by any influential and wealthy man. An ultimate form of obsession is personified through Roly’s voice: the willingness to be hurt and left behind for the joy of seeing the woman he loves sojourning her field of happiness.
Ermi’s beautiful face is not victimized at all. Rather, she finds an overwhelming amount of power in these “pursuits of the flesh”. She does not feel vindictive whenever Roly, who serves as an educated pimp, introduces her to businessmen and politicians who drool over tearing her apart. These hedonists are not cognizant of how Ermi compensates the privilege she gives them with a form of revenge to the society ravaged, and continuously grappled, by the war and the Japanese occupation.
The Face of a Narrator
The three individual narrators share the identity of being a pacifier of a woman in the surge of her success and significance. With their keen observations of the women’s bodies, language, and perceptions on society, culture, and politics, these three narrators help us see the truth in our country drenched in condemnation and subservience, and enable us to heed the call to partake in the societal discourse. The sword-pen of F. Sionil Jose, his repertoire deserving a much wider readership, sparks the flame. And this flame for sure waits to be clustered around by moths willing to die for the sake of exuberance brought by the light.