Finding My Voice in the Smallest Room in Palawan

I grew up in Palawan where pristine beaches and beautiful sceneries are the normal place to go for teenagers. Way back in high school, my friends and I would go to Nagtabon, the nearest beach to us, and we would spend the whole afternoon talking about the perks of being a teenager, one of which was enjoying ‘owning’ a room.

With the flickers of lights from the bonfire, my friends bragged about posting their favorite bands on their walls, painting the wall pink or the colors they like, and telling stories about how they finally talk to their boyfriends in the comfort of privacy. For my high school friends having their own bedroom is a liberation or the process of ‘adulting’.

Growing Up Without A Space to Call Mine

For my part, there is nothing to share about having my own room.

I remember I was seven years old when I started sharing my bedroom with my mother, and since then we have been inseparable.

That same night she hugged me tight like there would be no tomorrow. While crying she whispered, “Anak, pag laki mo, huwag mong hahayaang masaktan ka ng ganito. Babae ka, dapat malakas ka.” (Child, when you grow up, never let anyone hurt you like this. You are a woman, you must be strong.)

At seven, I was the ‘knight’ of my mother and she was my damsel in distress and my bedroom became our fortress. Back then, I didn’t really understand what was going on, or what she meant, but I knew she needed me.

My friends dreamt of the freedom their rooms represented, but I found a different kind of liberation in mine.

Turning Pain into Purpose

My mother is just one of the 14.4% of married women who have experienced physical abuse from their spouse, but that is just in our country, the Philippines, alone. According to the World Health Organization, 1 in 3 women worldwide have experienced physical abuse or sexual intimate partner or non-partner violence in their lifetime, and as many as 38% of murders of women are committed by a male intimate partner.

Imagine being abused just because you have a vagina.

Men often use violent means to overpower women, and for so long, women felt they were lower in status and regarded as the weaker sex. We were told not to fight back nor speak up, but that was just until the first wave of feminism in the 19th and early 20th century when women finally decided to end misogyny, a movement that was followed by two more waves and resulted in women’s right to vote, equal opportunities to education and employment, and right to own a property.

As for our country, the Philippines, it was in 1989 when the first pro-women law was passed which is the Anti-Discrimination of Employment. It was followed by more laws like the Women in Development and Nation Building Act, Anti-Violence Against Women and Children, and the current administration just passed the Safe Space Act. There are actually 17 laws in the Constitution protecting women’s rights. Yet, the question remains: Why, despite these advances, are women still struggling?

For me, I found the answer not in the law books but in the lived reality of my mother’s and countless other women’s experiences.

I grew up not having my own room, and for some, it may seem like I lost my own space inside the house, but actually, because of that I saw where I truly belong — on the battlefield, to fight not just for mother, but for every woman who is experiencing the same struggle.

Fighting Like a Girl

To “fight like a girl” has been mocked as a sign of weakness, but there is nothing weak about the women who continually rise up against oppression and injustice. We fight with the strength of our convictions and the power of our voices. The path ahead is long and fraught with challenges, but victory lies in the collective effort of every woman who stands up and says, “Enough.”

It has been 16 years since I started protecting my mother — wiping her tears every time she cries, hugging her every time she feels unsafe. I never left her side since then, I always make sure she feels at ease when she’s with me, but I just don’t want to comfort her, I want to do more.

This is my story, but it is also the story of every woman seeking to reclaim her power.

And that’s when I decided I had to speak up. Not everyone can hear me, but little by little, even though sometimes, no one’s even listening, I will continue to speak about the truth. That is why I am here, fearless, not even doubting, I bring with me my advocacy, and my weapon is the words my mother whispered in my ear when I was seven — I am a woman and I must be strong.

The journey is still long, but I am certain that at the end of the road, we will get our victory as long as we are going to fight like a girl.