March 7, 2011

MAKIBAKA ON WOMEN'S LIBERATION AND INVOLVEMENT
by:  Ma. Lorena Barros

In the January 26, l972 issue of the Philippine Collegian, there appeared an article by Ms. Susan G. Ramirez on “Women’s Liberation, MAKIBAKA and Involvement.” The article, which aims to impart greater understanding of women’s liberation and to correct MAKIBAKA’s sectarian nature, certainly shows a highly sectarian prescription of women’s lib and little knowledge of not only MAKIBAKA but radical women in general.

The point of the article is that MAKIBAKA’s rejection of the women’s lib line “really means that the difference in the sexes are to be ignored in the practical organizing of women”; that such rejection stems from “both an unwillingness and inability to recognize the inter-relationship of the concrete aspects of our daily lives with their over-all theory”; and that to solve this problem MAKIBAKA should “reconsider their present hostile position to a women’s liberation group, end the sectarian domination of the Quezon Blvd. males, and create the Filipinas’s Women’s Liberation.

There is no doubt that Ms. Ramirez had nothing but the best intentions in writing her critique of Filipino radical women viz-a-viz women’s lib. She correctly points out that “tactically different approaches to the various exploited groups and sexes” should be used in organizing and practical action. Unfortunately, the critique myopically prescribes women’s lib as a tactical approach to “the masses as women” in general - and thus falls prey to the very errors it seeks to correct.

To place “masses of women” in a concrete context (even as Ms. Ramirez fails to do so, in her whole article)-

For the masses of Filipino women workers (roughly one-third of the working force), would it be correct to raise the tactical slogans, “Fight your male bosses!” or “Company -paid abortions on demand”? No. The correct tactical slogan would be “Fight company unions and form genuine workers’ unions!” With strong genuine workers’ unions, women workers will be able to exert greater pressure for better working conditions, maternity and other medical assistance, safeguards against unfair labor practices such as sex discrimination, etc.

For the masses of Filipino peasant women, would it be correct to raise the tactical slogans “Down with wife-beating husbands!” or even “Maria Clara laos na!”. Correct tactical slogans would be “Reduce rent, abolish usury!” and “organize peasants’ cooperatives!” since the most pressing problems of our sisters in the feudal countryside are excessive rent and usurious practices which leave them with not enough harvest to last till the next crop (would these be what Ms. Ramirez have meant “obstacles to our satisfaction,” the psychical inhibitions of the oppressed female”?)


For the masses of women from the petty bourgeois - and these are apparently Ms. Ramirez “masses of women” - would it be correct to raise the tactical slogans “Down with male chauvinism!” or even “Away with beauty contests”? No. The steeply worsening economic conditions now dictate that the correct tactical slogans for women professionals, students and middle class housewives are “Down with high prices”, “Stop oil price increase!” and “Stop tuition fee hike!”. Only a very small segment of the women of this class can be rallied around women’s lib slogans. MAKIBAKA’s own concrete experience with its first mass actions, the picket against the Bb. Pilipinas contest in l970, showed that petty bourgeois women in the majority are merely amused (the more conservative are faintly shocked) by such slogans. To organize and mobilize them, more imminent (“gutsy” if you prefer) issues must be raised.

At best it might be said that the critique is sectarian. At worst it could be accused of rather irresponsible errors of ignorance. If Ms. Ramirez had taken more time to find out about MAKIBAKA in particular and radical women in general, her article would not have been so fundamentally flawed. Nor would it have been guilty of unnecessary errors such as asserting that “capitalism and imperialism are at the bottom of our exploitation.” Or ignoring the big and ever-increasing number of women activists who, unlike herself, no longer “go home to our very bourgeois personal and family lives” (most having never come from “very bourgeois homes” in the first place) but devote all of their time to the national democratic movement. And posing really quite silly questions like the six “how many’s, allegedly problems” that affect even the most radical women, how they live and think and what their problems are. She could have avoided (pointless!) “statistics” such as “99.9% of the MAKIBAKA members” “did not understand a socialist (sic.) program overnight.” Perhaps she meant a national democratic program. A cursory reading of the MAKIBAKA programme would give her that information. But then the confusion of national democratic with socialism (re “capitalism and imperialism are at the bottom of our exploitation”) is only one of a number of hopeless confusion in the article, so it is rather understandable.

Actually, the answers were there even before she ever thought of asking them. She alleges: “(MAKIBAKA’s attitude) ignores (the fact that) the simple social and personal problems of women have both political as well as economic reasons and ramifications (precisely). Instead they are simply considered as non-political irrelevancies. To quote some excerpts from the MAKIBAKA programme:

MAKIBAKA seeks nationalist industrialization and genuine land reform in order to create a vigorous national economy. Only a vigorous national economy can provide the conditions necessary for the eventual elimination of poverty, unemployment, underemployment, unfair labor practices, inadequate health services and other inequities in our semi-feudal, and semi-colonial economy. Moreover, only in such an economy can there be greater opportunities for Filipino women, who have long been suffering from discriminatory wages and labor practices.

Moreover,

MAKIBAKA is determined to work for the liberation of women from decadent bourgeois and feudal shackles which condemn them to an existence geared only to the bed-kitchen-church-nursery circle, denying them the opportunity to develop into more than domestic machines and sexual objects, to contribute their potential for the huge task of nation-building and socialist construction.


She need not have resorted to completely meaningless terms as “higher politics” (it quite taxes our minds to conceive of a “lower politics!) and “relating”. Perhaps she meant, to again quote from the programme: MAKIBAKA shall work for the integration of women students and professionals with workers and peasants (among other things) through involvement in community and relief work.

With some more research on Cuba and the Cuban revolution, Ms. Ramirez might also have refrained from quoting Castro as if her were an authority on revolution., The Cuban peasant precisely because he did not know “Marxist-Leninist jingles” is today still very much the sugar-growing peasant he was before Fidel Castro’s revolution, and must begin to wage another long, arduous struggle to overthrow his new oppressors and their social-imperialist masters. The Cuban peasant’s present condition is in glaring contrast to that of his Chinese brethren, of whom reactionaries must speak in a grudgingly respectful manner. Not incidentally Cuban women are still subject to the most anti-feminist antics of the Latin American male.



REJOINDER TO “EMBERS OF FEMINISM”
by Ma. Lorena Barros 
Philippine Collegian

One. It has always been pointed out by women’s liberation movement in the Philippines that: women comprise a little more than 50% of the population; that no revolutionary movement can succeed without the participation of this 50% plus; and that is why women must fight as well as the men.

More importantly, women are objectively exploited by U.S. imperialism, domestic feudalism and bureaucrat capitalism as well as men. The struggle is along national and class lines and cannot but involve women.

Women must fight alongside men in a united effort against imperialism, feudalism and bureaucrat capitalism - where else? Neither behind nor, we hope, in front; both would not be fair at all. This is quite different from the concept of unity with men, which is seen as taking place dialectically through struggle.

Two. Such categories as the “mothers corps,” far from being political, are an application of the mass line. They are tactical in nature. As we are not familiar with any other categories and the “puzzled one” failed to mention others, we are at a loss as to what is already a “fait accompli.”

Three. The women’s liberation movement in the Philippines has not romanticized female sufferings; it has always been scrupulous in not isolating the sufferings of women in our country from that of the vast majority of the people. It follows that women’s liberation has not been equated to a “self-contained social sublimation” and so forth.

However, it is a fact that many men, even those who like to call themselves dialectical materialists, fear that the women’s liberation movement will turn women into a troop of aggressively independent, overwhelmingly self-reliant amazons - reflection of a deep uncertainty about their own qualifications for a superior position I society.


Four. The women’s liberation movement in the Philippines starts from an analysis of the basic conditions in our society and the class struggle. Women, in the majority, belong to the oppressed classes in our semi-feudal and semi-colonial society. In this they are oppressed in common with the vast majority of the people. In addition to this principal oppression as members of their class, women are also victims of male oppression.

This theoretical starting point seems to us definite enough.

One of the best plays in the repertory of guerrilla theater in the United States depicts a conversation between two men who are trying to find out what’s wrong with their car, which won’t start. A woman tries to cut in innumerable times to point out that the spark plug needs changing - she checked it that morning. The men argue interminably, paying no attention to the girl. Finally one of them suggests that it might be the spark plug; they check and it is the spark plug that needs changing. The play end with the men congratulating each other on their brilliance.

The moral of the story: there might be less misunderstanding about women’s liberation if only the male critics would read what women have to say on women’s liberation before they make their learned critiques.











March 3, 2011

HALAW KAY MA. LORENA BARROS 
(Mula sa They Dwell In Yellow Quiet) 

Dilaw ang kulay ng katahimikan
sa tahanan ng mga pobre.
Ang kanilang gasera 
ay gawa sa basyong bote, 
pinasakan ng basahan 
at nakapuwesto ngayon
kung saan katamtaman 
ang timpla 
ng liwanag at dilim.

Dilaw na katahimikan 
ang dala ng gabi 
sa tahanan ng mga pobre.
Walang maririnig
ni katiting na ingit 
mula sa mga bata
kahit pa madiin ang suntok
ng dilim sa sulok
kung saan sila 
madalas nakaumpok -- 
maliban na lamang
sa harap ng dulang 
at pare-pareho silang nagtatalo
kung para kanino
ang kakapiranggot na ulam. 
'Pag ganito, kumikinang 
ang mga matang luhaan
sa liwanag 
na dilaw ang kulay, bagay 
kung kaya di naglulubay
sa pagsaway ang matatanda 
hanggang magpanumbalik
ang bawat isa 
sa kani-kanilang 
tahimik na pagnguya. 

Magaan kung humakbang
ang mga paang tumatawid
sa patse-patseng sahig
sa tahanan ng mga pobre. 
Walang impit
na galit, o dabog
na maririnig
kahit matagal nang hukot 
ang mga balikat
at halos pumutok 
ang ugat 
sa mukha at palad 
kapwa ng bata 
at medyo may-edad. Sa gabi, 
isinasara nang maigi
ang bintana
sa tahanan ng mga pobre.
Gayunman, di nila kailangan
ang bakal na rehas
upang tiyaking hanggang 
doon lamang sa labas
ang mas lalo pang pobre.





THEY DWELL IN YELLOW QUIET

They dwell in yellow quiet
these houses of the very poor
the homemade gas lamps are
expertly placed – just so
they do not flicker much
though still the shadows cast
are insecure.

The night brings yellow silence to
the houses of the very poor
the many children do not cry, though
it is hellish dark, in the corners
where they are –
except when gathered
round the wooden table
they fight over their shares,
bright tears and eyes in the yellow light.
But the justice of the elders is
God’s own, and silence
reigns over the chewing.

And yet in the quiet houses of the very poor
they drag no heavy feet
over the patchwork floors,
There is no rebellion in 
their placid movements       
Although the shoulders stoop
and veins stand out on
wrinkled hands and faces old
or not
At night the windows are shut tight
in the houses of the very poor
the next best way to iron grills
To keep the poorer out

                                                                   - Ma. Lorena Barros                                                                                
                                                                      The Weekly Nation
                                                                      October 2, 1967. p. 28










POEM TO HAN-SHAN

The place where I must spend my days
Has no cold mountain, no crowded peaks
Or wild vines stirring in the windless air.

Here purpled smog plays on the ashes
Of a thousand futile fires;
Beneath the ashes huddled sleepers stir
And I must watch, lest they awake and
Smother.  But I too am under ashes
And cannot breathe, yet may not die.


                                                           -   Lorena Barros
                                                               1968










March 2, 2011






A SKULL AMONG THE FLOWERS

Dear Miss Barros,

We have read your poem and regret that we cannot use it.  
Thank you for your interest in our magazine.

                                   Sincerely yours,
                                
                                  The STM Editors
                                   by: Gloria G. Goloy

P.S.
indeed you are much too serious
for one so young.  Why write of
skulls and excreta and such things
when your world is so beautiful
           at your age.  Still, thanks for
           sending this to us.


A SKULL AMONG THE FLOWERS


A skull among the flowers...,
who had a desk at city hall all to myself
and now a plot of grass grown earth---
I lived in quiet outskirts of the flesh
walked homewards each God’s evening down
not-so-narrow streets, ever homewards.
I did not know---I shunned---the alley-tunnels
of the       , throbbing estero veins where
dead embryos simplified in silence.  I passed them
quickly by, riding homewards,
and shut off all with a white handkerchief.
Railed on to the route-years I watched
each day go through its paces faithfully,
dull wordless days, and watched
each evening’s moon fulfill the calendar’s predictions.
my nights were brief excursions to family resorts
respectable X’s on a well-known map;
Whatever exotic’s I was aware of, and desired,
waited on some supreme promotion.
Hurrying homewards I dreaded most the city’s
intersections, dark-glassed my eyes against all
but the traffic lights.  I saw
not beggar’s hands but dirty nails,
not warmth and softness but enslaving legs.


Grown middle-aged I laughed to see skin cling to skin
in some dark corner of the crowded park
and went home cursing them and pitying.
I did not know my impotence.
Dreaming alone, lulled by the hum of
air-conned suburbia, I’d wake up
mouth gagging with remembered ashes and excreta;
but I thought of death as little as I thought of life
and never understood...I, now
a skull among November’s sudden flowers.










February 24, 2011

          THE SWINGLES CAME TO TOWN

The guard caught us,
   huddled behind the wings
and kindly enough led us out.
We therefore
huddled against the doors
ears pressed
to the polished wood.  Kindly
enough it let the music
     Out.
  And the music
reached us,
straight to our bitterness
and mute helpless anger,
         despite
the callous stare of the seller of souvenirs.
    Throughout a fugue
      she complained
of a backache which had been bothering her.
Her husband got the worst of it, poor soul;
she didn’t know why he put up with her, ho-
nestly.  It was really marvelous.
         Marvelous,
       the beautiful people exclaimed
As their eyes sought evidence
      that
  they were
        being seen
    in the gleaming lobby.
(You people are dead...)
        Marvelous, they said,
                    and mentioned this or that piece
while their eyes carefully avoided
     carefully avoided
            the quiet corner
where we sat.
  But the floor was clean enough.
After the intermission the doors shut in
  the cool expensive air
       again.
What a pity, the souvenirs seller’s eyes
Communicated disgustedly, that the music
               wouldn’t
        stay in as well.

                                          
                                                                   -  Ma. Lorena Barros
                                                                      undated

















February 20, 2011

STRIKE


Seventy-seven demands
some trifling, some
deep and huge. 
But all inarticulate
the glottals of the dumb

Somewhere back
We had forgotten speech
the correspondence of
sense of utterance. Now
wordless
sightless
numb
We march back and forth
mouths working
We know that the evil is great
but cannot begin to speak it.

“Two picketers climbed up the
monument of the Tao and veiled
it with black cloth to symbolize
the death of academic freedom
in the campus.”

Our still born gods
We bury with dumb gestures.
Oh we are unable to speak it!
We cannot begin to speak it.

Smashed glass
grief
a drop of blood on the asphalt
two drops
ten
the red seeps through our blindness

We have cast,
 the first rock.

-  Ma. Lorena Barros
   Phil. Collegian, July 31, l969












February 16, 2011

A PARK IS BORN

Tonight, the cogon fires,
Tomorrow, the heavy tractors
tearing at the roots of ashes
We must destroy in order to create
the lovely and the irrelevant,
the park now a blueprint dream in
some first lady’s drawer (Some years
ago Bobby Kennedy was here.  They
covered the shanties with cosmetic palm.)
Yes, we must have a park
a green and beautiful sight
to rest our weary eyes.  And
tomorrow the rumble of tractors
not quite drowning the convulsed roll
of evictees’ feet. 


                                                              - Ma. Lorena Barros
                                                                1968