When I had a short vacation out of the country not very long ago, I met with a fellow Pinay who had become a top model there. Her gorgeous face and long, silky hair were a fixture in billboards and ads, her trademark gait and flair for bringing the latest fashions to life, legendary. Fans stopped her in the street for autographs. She was an unreachable star, and needless to say, my role model.
You can imagine how stunned I was one day when, on a bus bound for an out-of-town venue we both have been booked for, she chose to sit beside me, the terrified fan who was in too awe of and intimidated by her fellows to even stifle a peep. She barely knew me, but somehow was comfortable enough with me to suddenly pour out her innermost frustrations.
She was the breadwinner for her family back home, she confided, supporting her parents, (jobless) siblings, and their children. She worked nonstop to provide for the entire household, send all the kids to school, and build a house for them one day. None of them even tried to look for work. They just waited for the money she sent every month. “I’m so, so very tired,” she wailed. “I never rest, never stop, and don’t turn down work. And it’s all for them.” I was shocked to find out that my glamorous idol was just like the millions of OCW Pinays who toiled tirelessly for others. I tried to convince her that it was extremely unfair as her parents and siblings were still able-bodied and ought to be responsible enough to earn their own keep. “Just stop sending money,” I urged her, suggesting she was part of the vicious cycle by enabling them to depend on her padala completely. “You don’t understand,” she cried. “I tried that once, but I got so guilty, I’d have anxiety attacks in the middle of the night. I guess I’ll be trapped forever.”
We lost touch after that, so I never learned how she survived her dilemma. But I never forgot her story, and soon realized what an all-too-common scenario it was. Our deadly combination of boundless, selfless generosity coupled with the famous Pinay guilt complex has spawned countless Pasan Ko Ang Daigdig tales. I wish I knew what to tell her back then. It could’ve helped her deal with her codependency issues with her family so she could say “no” when she had had enough—so she could save some for herself. Not just to being the breadwinner, but to all forms of martyrdom she tolerates in her life!
As always, we decide what it is that we want out of life, because once we figure it out, we’ll be able to marshal enough inner strength to make a stand—so we will always have the courage to tell others what’s important in our life.
You can imagine how stunned I was one day when, on a bus bound for an out-of-town venue we both have been booked for, she chose to sit beside me, the terrified fan who was in too awe of and intimidated by her fellows to even stifle a peep. She barely knew me, but somehow was comfortable enough with me to suddenly pour out her innermost frustrations.
She was the breadwinner for her family back home, she confided, supporting her parents, (jobless) siblings, and their children. She worked nonstop to provide for the entire household, send all the kids to school, and build a house for them one day. None of them even tried to look for work. They just waited for the money she sent every month. “I’m so, so very tired,” she wailed. “I never rest, never stop, and don’t turn down work. And it’s all for them.” I was shocked to find out that my glamorous idol was just like the millions of OCW Pinays who toiled tirelessly for others. I tried to convince her that it was extremely unfair as her parents and siblings were still able-bodied and ought to be responsible enough to earn their own keep. “Just stop sending money,” I urged her, suggesting she was part of the vicious cycle by enabling them to depend on her padala completely. “You don’t understand,” she cried. “I tried that once, but I got so guilty, I’d have anxiety attacks in the middle of the night. I guess I’ll be trapped forever.”
We lost touch after that, so I never learned how she survived her dilemma. But I never forgot her story, and soon realized what an all-too-common scenario it was. Our deadly combination of boundless, selfless generosity coupled with the famous Pinay guilt complex has spawned countless Pasan Ko Ang Daigdig tales. I wish I knew what to tell her back then. It could’ve helped her deal with her codependency issues with her family so she could say “no” when she had had enough—so she could save some for herself. Not just to being the breadwinner, but to all forms of martyrdom she tolerates in her life!
As always, we decide what it is that we want out of life, because once we figure it out, we’ll be able to marshal enough inner strength to make a stand—so we will always have the courage to tell others what’s important in our life.
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