Remembering the Lolas – A Five Post Tribute

Published on by Lisa Category: Sexual Assault

I’ve been “home” for a little over three weeks since my two month studying and research trip to the Philippines where I attempted to come to understand global and transnational feminism and its ties to violence against womyn.  In my spare time, I was even more busy meeting family members I had never known and learning about my parents’ homeland.

Again, as I re-enter the western culture after adapting to other ways of life, my mouth has been silent, my writing still.  Organizing my thoughts is difficult.  There was so much to learn and even more to process after such a loaded experience that ultimately, transformed me, cemented my commitment to ending violence against women, and changed my perspective on feminism.
As I work on larger pieces of work about my time in the Philippines, I thought I’d begin with art. Media and art have a way of bringing the truth out of me when thoughts are just too personal to share.
I want to be able to share my experiences with whoever is reading A Womyn’s Ecdysis so you can experience a little bit of what I saw and be touched by the glorious strength of so many womyn I met in the Philippines.  Filipinas are womyn of strength, celebration, and dance.  The more I learn about the various experiences of Pinays, the more I am proud to call myself and identify as one.  
As a feminist with US citizenship, I hope to bring their stories to you in any way that I can.  As a US blogger, I can only hope that you are interested in the injustices against women all over the world because a US centered feminism is an irrelevant and useless lens for the global majority of womyn.
I met some of the surviving “comfort” women of World War II and it was one of the most remarkable and unforgettable evenings of my life.  This five post tribute is for the women of Lila Pilipina, the survivors who are demanding an apology from the Japanese government to formally recognize the torture and atrocities afflicted upon the Filipino women during this time period.  The Japanese government has refused, but the Lola’s struggle – and celebrations – continue.
I came upon Lila Pilipina well before my trip to the Philippines and I learned more in one evening with them than I could ever imagined.  This is my tribute to their struggle, but more importantly their hope, energy, and inspiration.  

Tribute to the Lolas

Published on by Lisa Category: Mixed Media and Poetry

Hung on a wall of their home, many tapestries tell the story of the violence inflicted upon them by the Japanese soldiers during World War II.  Often kidnapped, coerced, or tricked into going with the soldiers, they were made to work during the day in garrisons doing laundry, cleaning, and cooking.  By nightfall, they were systematically raped by sometimes as many as forty men in one evening.  These women at Lila Pilipina are not the only ones who endured this, but, for now, they are the only ones who have come forward with their stories.

After reading the gut wrenching details of systematic violence, the details burned themselves on my heart and clung to my memory.  They were beaten, held down, sometimes with one leg tied up while men lined up behind a wall or sheet to wait their turn to rape these womyn, some as young as twelve years old girls.
When I read more stories, I was astounded to read how some made it home, either by waiting the terror out or by escaping.  One unknown womyn’s story explained how she, literally, crawled home when her feet became too blistered and bloody to walk on the road.  When many arrived home, they were rejected by their own families as they were a sign of “disgrace” and markers of a daughter less valued or worthy now that she had been raped.  This depiction shows the brokenness that the “comfort” womyn endured; first by the violence and then by betrayal.

Tribute to the Lolas

Published on by Lisa Category: Mixed Media and Poetry

I spent an evening with The Lolas of Lila Pilipina, the surviving comfort women of WWII in the Philippines. An evening of strength and joy, these women danced and sang their hearts out. When the music didn’t come out of the karaoke machine, they danced a capella to, “You are My Sunshine.” It wasn’t that these women survived unfathomable violence, it was that through such darkness came an even deeper joy and intimacy of community.

Putting the "Big" in Big Fun: Part II

Published on by Lisa Category: Family Musings, Marriage and Weddings, Notes From Home Plate

After we completed as many tasks as we could, Keith arrived.

Perfect timing. He was all smiles.

By Thursday evening, everyone was tired, but every 59 minutes someone would say, “Thank God the hall is done.” That would followed by a chorus of, “yeahhh….TOTALLY…”

We watched a little sneak peak of the slideshow because Kay “does not want any surprises,” and I agreed. It’s better to get the crying out now, I thought.

Of course there were tears and it was the first time I managed to stay dry eyed throughout it. I love watching people’s reactions when they see funny or moving pictures set to music. It’s almost like you can see their memories popping up in their heads.

FRIDAY
We woke up early and immediately went separate ways. Ron went on errands. Kelly went to go get her manicure and pedicure. The boys went golfing. Kay and I went to go get the dress. Ben Norris’ wife and daughter, Bhumika (pronounced: Boom-ick- cah) (nickname is Bhum- prounounced “Boom”) and Lilly were at the house while everyone disappeared to get the last minute things finished. When we picked up the dress and dropped it off at Kay’s parents house, we hung it up and fluffed it out. It looked majestic. I didn’t know if Paul would leak out a tear or two, but all seemed dry when we were on our way out.

“We better get going,” Kay said to her parents after we were done hanging the dress.

“Yup,” Rose would agree.

I started inching near the door thinking that was our cue to leave.

“Bhum and Lilly are at the house waiting there. We might go back there and take them to the hall.”

“Oh, okay!” Rose said.

Paul was confused, “Who’s BLOOMING LILY?”

I nearly fell over laughing so hard.

“No,” Kay said, “Bhum – short for Bhumika – and her daughter Lilly. Not ‘Blooming Lily!'”

We made it back to the house and began to get ready for the rehearsal and dinner.

The closed and ripped up roads provided a bit of struggle, but eventually everyone arrived at the rehearsal. It was a great time, including when Tim had to pull out his cell phone to practice his vows. Apparently, Kelly texted what he was supposed to say and it was held in the cell. Always a good resource, that cell phone.

Fireside, an old winery, was the perfect backdrop for the rehearsal dinner. Rog Borchers and Don Cordonnier were the trusty bartenders that night and were quite generous with the Crown, I must add. It was a great evening, but the highlight was the “siblings’ speeches” that took place after dinner.

Nick, Keith, and Jay were all giving individual speeches and toasts for Kelly, a moving gesture I thought. Once I heard the plan I thought, “Oh, this’ll be a ride on Disaster Transport. They’re going to be bawling their eyes out.”

Before rehearsal, Keith asked me to hear him out and I did. Twice. In the garage and then Kelly’s empty room. It was good. Poor guy, I thought, he’s going to bawl like a baby.

Then at the church, Jay asked me to read over his speech, handwritten in green notebook. Poor guy, I thought, he’s going to cry himself to sleep tonight.

Nick jailed himself in the basement refusing any help or rehearsal with his speech.

So, the three musketeers marched up to the front of Fireside and stood shoulder to shoulder to deliver their toasts to their one and only sister, Kelly. I had Ron’s video camera and thought it’s be fun to get it all on tape.

First up: Keith. Funny, moving, delivered well. Choked up midway. Glanced at Kelly – bawling her eyes out.
Second: Jay. Bawling throughout. Miracle all the words came out. Glance at the audience. 65% crying. Kelly – still crying.
Third: Nick. Walks from side to side, dry eyed. Calm and sincere. I hear a whisper, “He talks like a pastor!” Glance at Kelly – tears are under normal control. Glance at self, train wreck. I’m bawling like a big fat baby and can’t stop. Why do I have the camera? Whatta horrible idea.

We get through rehearsal and decide to end it around 11pm-ish.

I spot Tim and Kelly alone outside and hear her say good-bye to him. In reply, Tim says, “Next time I see you, you’ll be walking down the aisle in your wedding dress.” Another hug.

I look at Nick and start crying again. That’s what you get for eavesdropping.

Feminism (spit) or Feminism (fist)

Published on by Lisa Category: Uncategorized

In the constellation of feminism, I’m interested in hearing what YOU think is happening in feminism these days.  Are you ready to spit when you hear or read the *fword or are you striking up a fist?

These days I’m half and half.  This political circus surrounding the “women vote” is enough to make me want to vomit over the telly.  On the other hand, make/shift just came out with their latest and greatest edition, so get double fist pump for that.
Fist for the young womyn emailing me their dilemmas and problemas concerning the treacherous crossroads of race and gender.
Fist for the fems who are analyzing this Palin quagmire and it’s potential impact on the choices and freedoms of young womyn and grrls in a complex way.
Spit for Hill, Palin, and Gloria Steinem who have all but proven they don’t recognize womyn of color in their philosophies and campaigns.
Spit for my former crush who just got in touch with me but then used the term “damaged goods” when referring to a woman he used to love.  WTF kind of term is “damaged goods” when referring to human with a heart, soul, and moving ligaments?
Fist for my budding photography business in which I will be featuring all my social justice and feminist art.
Fist for me because…because…just because I’m surviving.
What about you – spit or fist for feminism these days?