Hail to the housewife

Weeks after arriving in New York, a few kababayans were forthright enough to ask me what I felt was an awkward question. “Where do you work?” In another instance I was told bluntly, “So you are a housewife here,” to which I retorted, albeit feeling uneasy, “Yes and I also write.”

Even before I could talk further, the same person uttered a litany of reasons why I should be working here: In America, women work, they do not rely on the husband, some of them have double jobs and there are no helpers here. These encounters kept me reflecting on what qualifies as work and why being a housewife is not considered as work. While half amused and half intrigued, images of sealed boxes and bulky suitcases started flashing in my subconscious. I thought of unpacking – the first of a myriad of work that awaits me in the days ahead.

As a trailing spouse for almost two decades now, I could not recall a time when I stopped working. I do not remember a time meeting women like me who did not actually work. Instead, what remains etched in my heart and my memory are the countless women who made the difference, reinvented themselves and rose amidst the circumstances laid before them. And there is no fitting time to honor them than this month when International Women’s Day is celebrated.

While posted in Hong Kong, I affectionately remember our women overseas workers – the “ates, nanays, titas, aunties” – with whom we nurture lifelong friendships. They each had their own heartwarming and heartbreaking stories of how they had left in search of the proverbial greener pastures. They gave up their jobs as teachers or office workers or as housewives, leaving their own children and home to take care of a home and of children not their own.

In recent years, some of them had updated us about a son who is now a lawyer, a daughter who has migrated to Canada, with a handful still working with the same employer in Hong Kong on a more promoted role. As Hong Kong is an equal employment opportunities territory, I had the chance to embark on a corporate job there. I would not have ably performed my tasks if not for the help and support of our own Ate Syl and Tita Vicky, as my children fondly call them.

My former lady boss shared how Filipino workers largely contribute to Hong Kong’s economy “because professional women like me can have a gainful employment.” Her family is a direct beneficiary because she had delegated child care and home management to a trusted Filipina. And she is grateful.

The same is true when we were posted in Jakarta with my cousin Grace, who had learned on her own the art of preparing celebrated Filipino delicacies, which we served at events in the diplomatic community or during home parties. Although being part of the ASEAN Women’s Circle was voluntary, it demanded time, effort and our utmost dedication. With Grace around I got to actively participate in organizing annual fund raising bazaars, food fairs, reading programs, teaching English as a Second Language, outreaches in Muslim boarding schools and other worthwhile activities.

On one hand, a poignant scene over a decade ago that keeps humming in my mind is that of women workers geared in hard hats by the construction site of our Beijing apartment. The women took turns in collecting gravel and sand with a shovel, maneuvering a wheelbarrow or manually collecting bricks from one point to another. I always admired their strength and courage, of how they defied gender roles and how difficult their job must be. Or perhaps they did not have a choice. It is what they did for a living.

I also think of a housewife who could whip up a meal for a family of 11 with a pack of instant noodles, a can of sardines and half a kilo of rice.  Sardines, she said, is always the main ingredient. When her husband was out of job they were kicked out of their rented place so she transformed an abandoned jeepney in a nearby lot into their temporary shelter. That was pure inventiveness.

Ingenuity and resilience are perhaps deeply embedded in every woman’s DNA. This I had witnessed from friends who had reinvented themselves to become a: home chef – never mind if the first cake she baked looked like bread and tasted like cardboard; home schooling mom – when her patience was tested to the hilt; an accessory maker – who ended up giving away her handmade trinkets for free.

While living in Beijing, pre-GPS days, a friend volunteered to be a guide to a shopping center for best bargains. We ended up in the outskirts of the city consuming a bowl of steaming noodles in between hearty laughs without a shopping center in sight.

If as housewives we did not work, we would not have published a book that chronicled our journeys of faith and friendship. Some of my friends took great joy in their transformation from homemakers to authors or storytellers.  What was it that Hillary Clinton said in her book What Happened? “You’re never too old to chase your dreams.”  The former first lady of the United States is perfectly right. When we chase our dreams and reinvent ourselves, we forget the titles or designations we once had and simply stick to what we now hold true in our heart.

My friend recently asked me how my passport is annotated. “Spouse of” I said, “followed by the hubby’s name and designation.”

“Good for you,” she said. “And you?” I asked. “Housewife!” she said emphatically, with an impish smirk and a sigh of acceptance but not of total approval. With that, we raised our glasses (filled with tap water, of course!), laughed to our hearts’ content and cheered, “hail to the housewife!”