My Grandmother Taught Me To Be Maria Clara
Updated: Feb 19
A fan, low bun, baro’t saya, and a little handkerchief on her hand
My grandmother was embrace by grace and small smiles,
a bit of patience and full of faith
Women before her covered their charms underneath the silk Filipinianas
Little chuckles on wits and jokes, no one must heard their voice
As a guitar strum and a gentleman sang
They hide their beauty behind windows and chamber walls
And snuggled on their slumbers after a peek on their lover’s crumpled notes
But my grandmother was different.
She dressed for her own body and not for anyone to admire it
She laugh on silliness and all the funny things her lips would smile upon
She stayed behind the curtains as a man confess a love she thought was too bold
And she slept with dreams in her mind and courage in her heart
Leaving unread love letters and unheard love songs behind
She was told to act like Maria Clara —
A character every Filipina would admire
A story she read not only once but most of her life
Maria Clara was feminine and beautiful;
docile, quiet;
but would smile when her lover’s around;
subservient and calm
She was born to obey, they must say
But my grandmother never came close to her
She was too far from perfection
But too close to her own self.
She never acted like Maria Clara
Instead, she became Maria Clara —
A woman who is seen beyond what eyes can vision