After viewing Greta Gerwig’s film “Barbie,” a wave of nostalgia washed over me, prompting me to reach out to my high school girlfriends and express how much I miss them and yearn for the days of our companionship. It’s the first time I’ve experienced grief for friendships that have yet to be lost, as we inevitably diverge onto different paths in life. The realization hits me that certain moments, like sharing gossip during lunch breaks, going on after-school outings to fast food joints, and getting ready together in the cramped school bathroom, will never occur again. There’s an unspoken understanding that binds women together, an intangible connection. We’ve all experienced that knowing glance, whether it’s from our mothers when we claim everything is fine or from our best friends when we admit we never truly liked our ex-partners. Perhaps that’s why it hurts so deeply when we lose a woman from our lives. Nothing quite compares to the bond of girlhood, except for the feeling of it slipping away. I’ve witnessed countless women accomplish remarkable feats, excel beyond measure, and shine brighter than any star in the galaxy. Yet, at the same time, I’ve seen their lights fade and diminish. My first encounter with the effects of the patriarchal society occurred when I was just eight years old. Suddenly, being a leader meant being labeled as bossy. It happened in an instant, shifting the entire world on its axis. I went from being told I could be anything I wanted to being expected to conform to societal expectations. Some people believe that when girls become aware of the harsh realities and injustices of the patriarchal society, they lose their girlhood. However, I believe the opposite to be true. It’s only when we understand the world we must navigate and thrive in that we have the opportunity to conquer and change it. There’s no denying that being a woman is challenging. From enduring period pain to conforming to beauty standards and dealing with the pressures of aging, there’s a lot to criticize and despise about our experience. However, there’s also so much to appreciate and love. The sense of community we share. Sitting on the couch and watching our favorite shows with our grandmothers and mothers. Blotting our lipstick on a tissue before leaving the house. Catching up with our girlfriends. Cooking alongside our aunts. Ultimately, it’s society that constantly places pressure on us to hate ourselves. It fixates on every flaw—how our thighs look, how our laughter sounds, and even the distance between our eyes. Even if we appear perfect and conventionally attractive like Margot Robbie, society will find something to critique. Are women merely objects to be objectified and appraised based on the proportions of our facial features? I’ve always been conscious of my appearance, even from a young age. I’ve always longed to be beautiful, but it has required an immense amount of effort. I would comb my hair a hundred times each night. I started wearing makeup at the age of 11 and mastered my routine by 14. By 15, I knew exactly what kinds of eyeglasses framed my face perfectly. Now, at 16, I’ve taken the time to study what colors complement my skin tone. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy all of this. It has become a form of self-care. However, I would be lying if I said that a part of me wasn’t doing it all to conform to society’s definition of beauty. For a while, I believed that my purpose as a woman was to strive endlessly for beauty. But then, I realized something was missing. Maybe, just maybe, I was made for greatness and to reach for the stars. I’ve always been a diligent worker. People would rely on me to complete group projects, leaving me sleep-deprived and dependent on caffeine. So, I thought to myself, “Okay, I can accept this as my purpose in life.” What was I made for? And my answer changed: I was made to pursue beauty and strive for greatness. To be everything the world desired of me, all at once. For a while, I reduced my purpose to just that—to exhaust myself in the pursuit of beauty and toil endlessly to achieve the greatness that seems to come effortlessly to men without the burdens society places on women. It wasn’t until I watched “Barbie,” reached out to my friends, and mourned the loss of my girlhood that I discovered the true purpose of women, and most importantly, my own purpose. Now, I look to the incredible women in my life—my mother, my grandmother, my friends, and my teachers. They exude life and love in their own unique and tender ways. It’s evident when my mother offers me the last piece of meat on the table or when my grandmother sends me old photographs of us. My friends show their love by bombarding me with TikToks that remind them of me. Similarly, my teachers demonstrate their care by fixing my hair in a net when it’s time to cook in class. Time and time again, they never fail to make me feel cherished. The answer I was searching for was right in front of me all along. What are women made for? We are made to love and be loved. We are made to approach life with wonder and enthusiasm. We are made to be kind, just as the women before us have taught us to be. Ultimately, there is no single definitive purpose that serves as an answer, aside from the pursuit of happiness. Angelica Phoebe M. Corpuz, a 16-year-old student entering Grade 11 HUMSS at Ateneo de Manila Senior High School, is an aspiring journalist with a passion for films and literature.
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