Romancing the Risk

I don't need a man.

At least, that's what I grew up believing. That's also what most of today's women's magazines and other forms of literature claim and try to impart to women. That the women of the 90s are tough, independent, competitive, assertive, and can do what they want on their own -- without a man.

I have always been a feminist, in spite of the fact that I grew up surrounded by the male species. Well, except for my mom. Most of the kids I played with during my childhood, whether cousins or neighbors, were boys. Added to that, I have two brothers as my only siblings.

In order to be accepted by them, I had to be tough like them. Stand physical pain without shedding a tear like them. Climb trees like them (the way monkeys do). Play with toy guns and cars like them (I actually had an extensive collection of matchbox cars). And fight like them (with black-eyes and all).

As the eldest child in our family, I naturally had more responsibilities, more rights, more privileges, more freedom. From my formative to adolescent to adult years. I never had a curfew and could stay overnight at a friend's house anytime. I was always allowed to travel around the country and abroad with my friends or by myself. I could drink and smoke without being castigated for doing so (my brothers weren't permitted to do any of these until recently, when they started fighting for their rights).

I liked hanging around with males, from boys to men (no, not the singing group), but I didn't need them to achieve the things I was able to do. On my own, I had good grades, I ventured into several extra-curricular activities, and I got the jobs and positions I wanted and applied for with ease.

Sure, I said to myself, I didn't need, don't need, and won't need a man to establish a career, be successful in it and in other endeavors. I also don't need a man to be happy.

So I have projected an image of a very strong person. A towerblock for everyone to lean on. But hey, I'm human, too. I have fears, hopes, fits of anger, joys, sorrows, disappointments, and frustrations like everyone else. I may look so smug and cool, but I have felt like being torn apart. I have cried like all hell has broken loose and have thought I wouldn't be able to survive crisis after crisis that I have been faced with. But in the end, I did survive. Gracefully. And otherwise.

Despite my independence, achievements, and successes, I still long to have a family of my own. And though I can have this on my own (without a man), it wouldn't be as complete and fulfilling. Having experienced romantic love, I yearn for the companionship, intimacy, and "magic" that a special someone can give me. Heterosexual as I am, only a man can give these to me (hey, I can't conceive on my own, for even an artificial insemination require's a man's "cooperation").

And in spite of being liberal, I do believe in marriage and I do consider it as a very sacred covenant. But in this modern world, separation (legal and not legal), concubinage, and chauvinism (in spite of feminist movements and calls for gender fairness) are not only rampant, but are an everyday occurrence and are generally accepted by most people.

What assurance would I have then that the man I'll be involved with would want to marry me? What happens when I have found Mr. Right, but I am not his Ms. Right?

Well, I am willing to take the risk (again and again, I suppose). For how will I ever find out if I do not? And since I cannot venture into a relationship alone, I would have to change the first line of this article.

I do need a man, after all.

Published in Zee Quarterly Magazine, March 1996. Copyright (c) 1996 Cherry C. Thelmo. All rights reserved.