Women of strength

“A strong woman isn’t afraid of anything, but a woman of strength shows courage in the midst of fear.” This is an excerpt from an anonymously written poem, wherein the author juxtaposes two breeds of women. While highlighting the fact that both types possess admirable traits, the author also conveys the insight that there is a definitive difference in the nature of these women. The strong woman manifests poise and courage, while the woman of strength is the embodiment of these qualities.

Looking back through Philippine history—from the Spanish and American colonization, to the Japanese occupation, the martial law era, and other circumstances that called for extreme demonstrations of courage—it is easy to see many women like Gabriela Silang and Cory Aquino who personified the latter type. I  first saw this kind of devout and understated will power in my Lola Bening. She died 11 years ago, but I cannot forget the uncommon courage I witnessed as she lay dying in a hospital. It is from that single event that I continue to draw inspiration as a Filipino woman.

In November 1999, my mom and I took a flight from San Diego to Manila to be with my Lola, whose health condition was deteriorating. While my mother attended to Lola Bening, much of my time was spent with my cousins in the adjoining room in UST Hospital where she was confined. During one routine visit from the doctors, my Lola could be heard crying in pain, accompanied with the muffled voices of my mom and her siblings trying to console her.  One of my younger cousins and I were quickly ushered out of the room by one of the adults, and left in a state of confusion, shock and concern.

I spent two months in the Philippines, and this was the only instance in which I could remember my Lola letting on about how grave her condition really was. At 11 years old, I did not understand how painful routine dialysis was for her, especially since for the most part, she was always poised and silent about her discomfort. Naively, I wondered not only why but how she was able to do so. It wasn’t until I was older that I realized it was her maternal desire to shield her children from pain that gave her the almost superhuman strength to mask her suffering.

In recent years, I have been increasingly aware of the parallels between the nature of my Lola and that of my own mother, Claire. For as long as I can remember, my mom has always been sickly, plagued by severe asthma since she was a teenager. As a young girl, I took cues from my dad, patting my mom’s back whenever one of her asthma attacks brought her nausea. In a way, you could say that I had become used to her frequent bouts of sickness.

However, nothing prepared me for my mom’s cancer diagnosis in October 2006. Forced into retirement by a previous ailment, she was found to have cancer cells in the endometrial lining of her uterus. The period of time between learning about her cancer and her scheduled hysterectomy was especially difficult; there was no way of knowing exactly how advanced or how grim her condition was until the actual operation.

Those few weeks felt like eternity. I found it ironic that while my dad and I were both despondent and wracked with fear, my mother was in fact, the glue that held us all together with her optimism and strength, reassuring us, “Don’t worry about me, I’m a fighter.”

Thankfully, her cancer was caught early and the hysterectomy was the only necessary treatment to physically cure her.

Now, five years later, our family finds itself facing yet another health crisis, with my mom recently diagnosed to have hypereosinophilia, an extremely rare autoimmune disorder, whose cause and cure are both fairly unknown.  With her own cells attacking different organs of her body, my mother must battle chronic abdominal pain and discomfort, nausea, and a persistent weakness that keeps her from being too active.

In spite of the seriousness of her condition and the pain that it causes, she, like Lola Bening, does not let a hint of her ordeal show on her face. And while at times I get frustrated that she downplays what she is feeling, I know it is part of her nature to shelter her loved ones from worrying, as it was characteristic of her own mother.

Reading the “Woman of Strength” poem brings to mind acts of courage exhibited by fearless Filipinas who have made their mark in Philippine society and history.  In the context of who I believe most epitomizes the “woman of strength,” however, I can think of only two women, who, I am proud to say, are both fixtures in my family tree. Sometimes, it is the seemingly small acts of courage done with the purest of intentions that show us the meaning of utmost strength.

Kimberly David Morosi, 23, is an American-born Filipina, who recently graduated from the University of California, Irvine, where she studied Political Science and Women’s Studies. She currently works in social services, aiding socially disadvantaged populations.