A woman is under attack. A woman is always under attack. She is constantly harassed on social media.
Her identity is often stolen. Her rights are never fully given. There was a woman named Rose.
She wasn't very beautiful, but she was pleasant and friendly. One night, her ex-boyfriend attacked her. The police wouldn't believe her because Rose liked wearing short shorts, and it was her ex, anyway.
There was a girl named Rose. She was still youthful and naive. She had lost her father to another family, and her friend came to console her.
He consoled her for weeks, then attacked her for weeks. Nobody wanted to talk about it because the boy showed so much promise. "He got into UST.
His scores are so high. What a waste." Rose dropped out of a Catholic school that should have protected her.
She faded into oblivion. There was a woman named Rose. Her grandmother was a comfort woman during the war.
Now they are starving. Rose's mother sold her body at the tender age of ten. They are hungry again, so Rose sold her daughter at the tender age of ten.
Her name is also Rose. There was a woman named Rose. She worked a 9 to 5 and did Avon on the side.
Her husband paid the rent, but that was it. Rose paid all the bills and bought the food. She also took care of the children.
He never helped out because that was a woman's job. After a hard day at the site, he wanted to grab a beer and play basketball with the guys. There was a woman named Rose.
She climbed to the top and became a manager. Rumors said she slept her way to the top, but that wasn't true. She never slept a wink to get what she wanted.
One day, Ronaldo declared that he was going to be called Rosita. The boss promoted Rosita because it looked good in the media, and Rose faded into obscurity. They never acknowledged that Rose had to fix all of Ronaldo's work and even made him coffee.
There are thousands of Roses, each with their own stories. I have always been an advocate for women; in fact, my family is. I saw the same zeal in my grandmother Socorro, my aunts, my mother, and my eldest sister.
We want the best for women. When society honors its women, the whole of society benefits. Right now, our women are under attack.
Media portrays us as flighty and weak. The little rights we fought so hard for are taken away for the sake of diversity. When I was still volunteering with a women's organization, my mother pointed out why we help only women.
She said that when women have money, they take care of the household and ensure the children are fed and educated. Men, not so much. They expect it all from the women.
Only when she has extra money can she buy herself lipstick. (That's an allegory but true in most cases.) When a relationship breaks, the children are often left to the mother.
Worse, the stigma is also left to the woman. Lately, I volunteer at Talikala Center, where there are even more Roses in need of a helping hand. Poverty is often cyclical for them and they always end up in the streets.
We've done journaling with them, given them Bibles, and even sponsored four of them to take Mani-Pedi classes so they can change their livelihoods. Why the woman? Because a girl who blooms into a woman can change society. Women produce children and are often the child's first teacher.
A healthy and happy teacher models healthy relationships and lifestyles for the children. A woman with a healthy mind and body will often think of others first, of society first. Most of my books depict a strong woman, hoping one day to awaken more Roses to bloom.
Give our Roses a chance to bloom. Protect them. Believe them.
Believe in them..
