The only daughter of a wealthy businessman,
she was her Papa’s principesa fluent
in all the romance languages. The world
she was born into was a walled Spanish city, designed
to preserve the ‘Spain’ contained within the Philippines.
When she came of age, she took a steamship
across seas to attend Swiss finishing school,
then went on to complete a nursing degree.
She would have made the perfect housewife
to an equally privileged man.
But this is not the way this story goes.
Daddy’s girl followed her heart
and married the love of her life,
a simple man with a killer looks,
winning smile and
ambitions to impress even her Papa.
She wore her hair exactly the same way everyday
(nobody had to know she never washed it herself).
Perfectly arched eyebrows precisely placed
(nobody has to know they're permanently tattooed on).
This look was golf-course proof and husband ready.
By all accounts, she was a lady of leisure.
What her elegant charm and compassionate
grace did not reveal were her
take-no-prisoners-you-can't-stop-me qualities.
The lady was also an athlete of ambidextrous skill.
Tennis with her left to protect her right-handed
golf swing, she paved the way for women
in the most sexist, elitist sport. This alleged
housewife known for her fabulous parties
was expertly hiding a secret. What appeared
to be an expensive hobby was in fact her most
ground-breaking act of defiance, all carried
out with elegance and smarts. Armed in her
golf shoes and dainty pompom golf socks,
she stomped on convention and rules. Flanked by her
comrades, all bosomed as well, their hobby
and skill now a mission. They traveled the
world and found fellowship in women exactly
like them. And now decades later because
of her vision, women like me can have game.
Golf is a small significant corner, whose glass
ceilings she helped shatter.
Beneath the perfect hair, perfect arch of brow
and the scent of her French perfume; beyond
the diamonds and the pearls my grandmother's heart
was fire and gumption. Daddy’s girl knew
how to get what she wanted, her stride was strong
and her words were decisive.
The moral of Nana’s story comes in many parts,
and today’s moral is this:
Judge a woman all you want,
for all her looks and finery.
Judge her so and know
this too - you do it at your peril.
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