After watching “Barbie” directed by Greta Gerwig, I found myself reaching out to my high school girlfriends, telling them about how much I miss them and how I long for their companionship once more. For the first time in my life, I grieve the friends I have not yet lost because even if they hate to admit it, things will never be the same again as we move to different paths in life. It dawns on me that “tsismis” during lunch break, after-school trips to fast food chains, and fixing up together in the cramped school bathroom will never happen again.
Women are woven together through an understanding you can’t quite put into words. For example, all of us have experienced the “knowing glance,” whether that be from your mother when you tell her nothing’s wrong, or from your best friend when you tell her you didn’t even really like your ex. Maybe that’s why it hurts so much to lose a woman in your life. Nothing compares to experiencing girlhood, except maybe the feeling of it slipping away from you.
I know so many women in the world who have done great things, achieved great lengths, and shone brighter than any star in the galaxy could. At the same time, I have seen these same women’s lights dwindle and decay. The first time I experienced the effects of the patriarchy was when I was eight. Suddenly, being a leader meant you were bossy. It all happened in a flash. The whole world shifted its axis. I went from being “a woman made to be anything she wanted” to “a woman made to be everything the world wanted.”
Some people believe that when girls get in touch with the reality and pains of the patriarchal society they live in, they lose their girlhood. I think that it’s the opposite. Once you realize the world you must survive and thrive in, only then will you have the chance to conquer and change it.
There’s no doubt that being a woman is difficult. From period pains to beauty standards and aging, there’s a lot to criticize and hate about being a woman.
However, there’s a lot to love about it, too. The community you have. Sitting on the couch watching teleseryes with your lola and mom. Blotting your lipstick on tissue paper before leaving the house. Catching up with girlfriends. Cooking with your titas. At the end of the day, it’s our society that places pressure on us to hate ourselves. How our thighs look. How ugly our laugh is. How wide or narrow the distance between our eyes is. Even if you’re seemingly perfect and conventionally attractive (like Margot Robbie), society will still find ways to find something wrong with you. Is this what women are made for? To be objectified and viewed while society rates the proportions of our forehead to our nose?
I always took care of my looks. At a young age, I’ve always wanted to be pretty, but it took so much effort. I combed my hair a hundred times a night. I started wearing makeup at 11. I fully mastered my makeup routine at 14. I understood the shape of eyeglasses that framed my face perfectly by age 15. Now, at age 16, I’ve been studying what colors look best for my skin tone.
I love doing all this, believe me. I enjoy buying makeup and doing my hair. It’s self-care for me at this point, but I would be lying if I said that a part of me wasn’t doing all this because I wanted society to think of me as beautiful. For a while, that’s what I thought my purpose was as a woman.
What was I made for? I was made to try hard and chase after beauty that I could never reach unless society stops chasing it out of me.
I thought about it deeper. Something was missing. Perhaps, I was made for greatness and reaching the stars. I was always a hard worker. People would leave group projects to me. They gained a good night’s sleep; meanwhile, I gained dark bags under my eyes and caffeine addiction. So I thought to myself, “Okay, I could live with this purpose in life.”
What was I made for? New answer: I was made for chasing beauty and reaching the stars. Being everything the world wanted me to be all at once.
For a while, I diminished my purpose to just that. Working myself to the bone to appeal to beauty. Burning myself out to try and achieve the greatness that men so easily get without having the burdens placed upon them by society. It wasn’t until I watched “Barbie,” texted my friends, and mourned my passing girlhood that I realized what women were made for or most importantly, what was I made for.
Now, I look to all the amazing women in my life, my mom, my grandma, my friends, and my teachers. All of them are so full of life and love. They all show me how they love me in the most tender yet unique of ways. It shows when my mom gives me the last piece of meat on the table. It proves again when my grandma messages me old pictures of us. My friends show their love in their own way by spamming me with TikToks that remind them of me. Similarly, my teachers show theirs, too, by fixing my hair in a net when it’s time to cook for class. Time and time again, they never fail to make me feel cared for. The answer I was looking for was right in front of me all along.
What are women made for? We are made to love and be loved. We are made to explore life with wonder and excitement. We are made to be kind just like how the women before us taught us to be. In the end, there is no one true real purpose that stands as an answer except for the pursuit of happiness.
Angelica Phoebe M. Corpuz, 16, is an incoming Grade 11 HUMSS student at Ateneo de Manila Senior High School. She is an aspiring journalist with a love for films and books.