To My Sister(s)
Last night you came home crying. I knew the second you walked in, him trailing behind you quietly. As you quickly walked past our mother on the couch, and me at the table I quietly asked- why were you crying Ate? You cry often, but you always have a valid reason. People tell you it is a weakness, I think it is one of your strengths. You let out your emotions, even if not on purpose- and that is beautiful. Your being is raw and transparent in every aspect. You are not perfect, as no one is. I will not dehumanize you, by putting you on a pedestal. Even though you are the best ate I could ask for.
Last night you came home crying. Your response to my questioning- I’ll tell you later. You quickly went to your room. He floated around the dining room area. I asked him, what’s wrong? Did something happen? He was momentarily quiet. After mumbling vague things about the circumstances without much importance, he said something along the lines of- “I said something, I realized I shouldn’t have.” Thoughts raced through my head, what could it be? I got up from my seat at the table and went to her room, him trailing behind. Not sure if he would follow me in- I prompted, I’m gonna talk to her privately.
You sat on one of the two mattresses in the room, the one on the floor. I sat with you on the floor. I ask, what happened? You are quiet. I can tell you are like a tea cup filled to the very top, one movement away from pouring over. So you momentarily do not move. You start to tell me about the events that transpired. You explain to me, we were doing uber eats. We were delivering to a dark neighborhood, in the back alley streets of Seattle. You said to him- I am glad you are here with me, I would be scared right now all alone. He responded that girls back home are more courageous than girls here. That he wonders if it’s because we are over exposed to ‘bad news’ of what is made to seem, or that we are made to believe happens a lot to women. You asked him if he’s saying you aren’t courageous, and he dared to pause. He says that’s not what he meant, he was just pointing out how girls back home aren’t scared to go anywhere alone as they can handle themselves. This obviously sets you off. You tell me how you go off on him- rightfully so. That he puts women from his country on a pedestal. That he thinks rape does not happen where he’s from. That he implies women are not scared there. You point out that there’s no way for him to actually know this. Did he ever ask women if they were scared? Did he ever try to see if there is femincide or violence against women aside from simple assumptions. You tell him, trust me they are scared. You point out how- in Asia they simply just don’t talk about it. Just because they don’t talk about it, absolutely does not mean it does not exist.
We make the connection in our conversation, that by putting a certain group of women on a pedestal- whether it’s because of race, ethnicity, nationality, etc. That if you do that, it actually dehumanizes them. You may think it’s a compliment, that you're lifting them up. But when it passes a certain degree, that idolization strips them of their humanity. You are saying that nothing can happen to them because they are untouchable, they are above any possible violation. As if their genitals are tightly locked only to be opened with a gold key. This idolization invalidates their very real experiences, and dismisses them before they could even open their mouths to speak- that is if they chose to speak. Continuing on.
You explain that you asked him, so are you saying- it’s my fault for being scared? You point out, your violation did not happen here… but that it happened in Asia. You ask, “so… was it my fault? What happened there?” Prompted by willful ignorance he told you… well, you are too nice. You are crying again, as you tell me what he said. I am in horror, but sadly not disbelief. We hear these things often. We are blamed by the media. We are blamed by legal institutions. We are blamed by our family. We are blamed by our friends. We are blamed by larger society. I try to just momentarly lift your mood, ah- the downfalls of heterosexuality. We are blamed in every sphere of society, wouldn’t it be nice- if at very minimum our partners did not have this same victim blaming mentality? I would like to believe that men could even possibly just slightly see things how we see. To know how their words hurt. To know that to have to deal with patriarchy takes a part of your soul. Yet we resist even if only through survival. To know that to deal with patriarchy is to be stripped of your humanity. To be victim-blamed by others close to us really isn’t necessary from the perspective of patriarchy. Because the world has already convinced us it’s our fault. We already tell ourselves for years on end- it is my fault, it is my fault, it is my fault. Like a broken cassette tape on repeat. It plays in our head continuously, we take these messages from the world and internalize them continuously. How can we possibly begin to explain this, that this really isn’t what we need? Because they don’t understand. We ask for the minimum that they just try, then we applaud when they even attempt this bar so low that it resides in hell.
We do so much free emotional behavior for men. While they jump through hoops in their minds to convince themselves they do not contribute to the problem. Oh the cognitive dissonance. So much free education. We talk, then they love to play devil's advocate. They love to remain ‘neutral’ in situations that have no neutrality. There is no middle ground in victim blaming. If you have to side with a survivor and a rapist and you choose middle ground, you are actually siding with the perpetrator. It's like a hill with no top, the left side smaller than the right. The point of this hill seems like it’s flat, but it’s actually skewed towards the right. There is no such thing as neutrality.
We talk, then we have to be level headed. We have to debate them when all we really wanted was someone to listen. We have to stay unemotional, or else be reduced to being triggered. Poor traumatized creatures- that cannot think rationally. We are not given space to be upset, to be even slightly biased. Then they always make it about men. When we say women get sexually abused, we are not saying men do not. But they always bring up men in conversations about women's abuse. We point out, if you only bring up mens subjugation in response to womens- you do not actually care about that very real and valid issue.
I want you to know, I believe you. It is not your fault. It was never your fault. Even if you did this instead, or didn’t do that. It still would never be your fault. Men really don’t know… that what they say matters. Their words, especially when we love them- dig deep into our souls. With each statement that blames us, making a hole that seeps- draining us. It is not your fault. Women are considered “lucky” to get out of this self blaming mentality. Many women never do. The women that do, have to continuously remind themselves of this truth when the whole world continues to remind you that no- it is on you. We sisters must stick together, call out each other, and uplift one another. I am sorry Ate, that the world tells you to blame yourself. This is not true. I am sorry that our boyfriends will never fully understand this type of abuse. I am sorry we have to do emotional labor at the cost of ourselves. I am sorry that women have to love so hard as to forgive and forgive and forgive when the men in our lives condemn us and condemn us and condemn us. How long are we supposed to forgive? To give the benefit of the doubt. To acknowledge with unreasonable rationality that they have internalized misogyny. We ask how would they know any better unless we teach them when they are willing to learn? We remind ourselves that the world too had indoctrinated them to be this way. We remind ourselves patriarchy hurts them too, say. But who the hell reminds us- it’s not our fault. That it could actually, possibly be the rapist's fault? I will remind you Ate. It is not your fault. You are a survivor, not a victim. And especially not one of your own doing. I believe you, and it is not your fault, and we will always have each other. Without needing to explain, to debate, to describe, to convince, to remain “rational,” to remain “neutral,” to remain unemotional, we will understand each other. To end this letter to my amazing maganda Ate, mahal kita.
Translations:
Ate- big sister
Maganda- Beautiful
Mahal Kita- I love you
