no matter what or who we are
Reese Witherspoon’s acceptance speech at the 78th Oscars is bound to be quoted for days (or years) to come. In that short sentence, in which she actually quoted June Carter, she has struck a chord in the hearts of men and women across the globe: “I’m just trying to matter.” That is a common thread that binds us all: the wish to be valued for who we are. Utimately, to be loved for who we are.
Unlike Reese and those in society who have power, fortune and fame, I am an ordinary person. A common woman. My circle of influence shall not span across the Philippines, much less the entire world. And yet, like June Carter, I try to be of value, which I hope I am, especially to my family.
So when I heard a husband talked about loving his wife because she is the mother of their children, I became a little afraid of the same prospect for myself. And it is not without good reason. For I have seen men who are so enamored with their children that they have relegated their wives as mere postscripts to the fact. She has brought forth the seeds of his legacy, and thus, the deed is done. Some men, of course, institute their wives to the caring and raising of their children, another one of the reasons for her usefulness. The man, generally, earns the prime source of income for the family, but even if the woman is productively employed, her main obligation is still their home, her husband and the children.
As I voiced this concern to a friend, I was reminded that “motherhood is the noblest of all occupations. So it is nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of, if your husband values you or loves you because of that.” It didn’t surprise me to hear my friend say that, being a man himself. No matter how in touch he was with his feminine side, it would still take a woman to understand what a woman feels.
What I wanted him to understand was that I wanted my husband to see me, not as someone who would serve his purposes, whatever they may be, but see me as someone he loves for no other reason than my being who I am.
Yes, I am now a proud mother of two children. Yes, I am now a wife. Yes, I am a partner in this institution called marriage. But I am also a woman. I have my own thoughts, dreams, ideals, principles, and most of all, emotions. I am my own person, separate and independent of other human beings.
In “The Stations of Solitude,” Alice Koller presented her idea of loving:
Loving a man and his loving me would have to be of the same sort: having no purpose beyond our loving one another…I would not need him, nor he me. We would only want each other: want to be part of one another’s lives, want one another’s good, want to be one another’s best friend, want one another sexually as the supervening benison on our being one another’s best friend.
Having said that, it is also imperative that before one enters into marriage, before one becomes a mother, one must become “a complete person.” For our spouses nor our children have the obligation to fulfill us, it is ours, and ours alone.
A scene from the movie “Jerry Maguire” comes to my mind: A deaf-mute couple was in the elevator with Jerry and Dorothy. And when they left, Jerry wondered what the guy told (using sign language) his girlfriend. And Dorothy said, “You complete me.” I have to admit that when I saw that movie, that particular scene and the scene where Jerry comes back to Dorothy, I thought that that was how love should and would be. It was hopelessly romantic of me to believe that it was true. Hopeless being the operative word there.
Now, I still believe in love, but not the kind that asks for dependency and possession. D. H. Lawrence was quoted to have said that, “marriage should be a combining of two whole, independent existences, not a retreat, an annexation, a flight, a remedy.”
A. S. Byatt wrote in “Possession”, “how true it was that one needed to be seen by others to be sure of one’s own existence.” And how true it is, especially in an intimate relationship such as marriage. It is the burden that we put into the institution that strains the exact thread that connects us.
But that is how it is. We need to be seen. We need to be loved. We need to be loved for who we are. We need to matter. No matter what or who we are.
Unlike Reese and those in society who have power, fortune and fame, I am an ordinary person. A common woman. My circle of influence shall not span across the Philippines, much less the entire world. And yet, like June Carter, I try to be of value, which I hope I am, especially to my family.
So when I heard a husband talked about loving his wife because she is the mother of their children, I became a little afraid of the same prospect for myself. And it is not without good reason. For I have seen men who are so enamored with their children that they have relegated their wives as mere postscripts to the fact. She has brought forth the seeds of his legacy, and thus, the deed is done. Some men, of course, institute their wives to the caring and raising of their children, another one of the reasons for her usefulness. The man, generally, earns the prime source of income for the family, but even if the woman is productively employed, her main obligation is still their home, her husband and the children.
As I voiced this concern to a friend, I was reminded that “motherhood is the noblest of all occupations. So it is nothing to be afraid of or ashamed of, if your husband values you or loves you because of that.” It didn’t surprise me to hear my friend say that, being a man himself. No matter how in touch he was with his feminine side, it would still take a woman to understand what a woman feels.
What I wanted him to understand was that I wanted my husband to see me, not as someone who would serve his purposes, whatever they may be, but see me as someone he loves for no other reason than my being who I am.
Yes, I am now a proud mother of two children. Yes, I am now a wife. Yes, I am a partner in this institution called marriage. But I am also a woman. I have my own thoughts, dreams, ideals, principles, and most of all, emotions. I am my own person, separate and independent of other human beings.
In “The Stations of Solitude,” Alice Koller presented her idea of loving:
Loving a man and his loving me would have to be of the same sort: having no purpose beyond our loving one another…I would not need him, nor he me. We would only want each other: want to be part of one another’s lives, want one another’s good, want to be one another’s best friend, want one another sexually as the supervening benison on our being one another’s best friend.
Having said that, it is also imperative that before one enters into marriage, before one becomes a mother, one must become “a complete person.” For our spouses nor our children have the obligation to fulfill us, it is ours, and ours alone.
A scene from the movie “Jerry Maguire” comes to my mind: A deaf-mute couple was in the elevator with Jerry and Dorothy. And when they left, Jerry wondered what the guy told (using sign language) his girlfriend. And Dorothy said, “You complete me.” I have to admit that when I saw that movie, that particular scene and the scene where Jerry comes back to Dorothy, I thought that that was how love should and would be. It was hopelessly romantic of me to believe that it was true. Hopeless being the operative word there.
Now, I still believe in love, but not the kind that asks for dependency and possession. D. H. Lawrence was quoted to have said that, “marriage should be a combining of two whole, independent existences, not a retreat, an annexation, a flight, a remedy.”
A. S. Byatt wrote in “Possession”, “how true it was that one needed to be seen by others to be sure of one’s own existence.” And how true it is, especially in an intimate relationship such as marriage. It is the burden that we put into the institution that strains the exact thread that connects us.
But that is how it is. We need to be seen. We need to be loved. We need to be loved for who we are. We need to matter. No matter what or who we are.
posted by soulcraftwriter at 3:54 PM
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