THE SPIRIT OF LABAN MIGRATED TO IRAN

Somewhere, there’s a photo of me with Corazon Aquino, the former president of the Philippines who will be buried on Wednesday. I thought of her today as her flag-draped coffin was carried along EDSA in Manila. This is the very street where the People Power Revolution was born. Today, this street turned into a sea of yellow with ribbons, flags and balloons--as it had back in the days the revolution was born. Even as the current ruler’s ascendency to the president’s office is questioned, and the country is again undergoing political strife, Cory is uniting her people in death as they remember her.

I met “Cory,“ as people affectionately called her, sometime during her presidency at an event in Bellevue, WA. A private audience with picture taking, followed by dinner, dancing, and speeches. The Filipino ex-pats in attendance adored her, as did I. Uproarious applause erupted when she shaped her small right hand into an L for LABAN, the word formed from the acronym of The People’s Party. In Tagalog, the word LABAN means “fight.” And fight she did, this diminutive widow of assassinated opposition leader Benigno Aquino, Jr. and self-proclaimed housewife. But she fought in her own way, namely peacefully and prayerfully!

I adored Corazon Aquino because she was smart enough and gutsy enough to oppose the ruthless dictator Marcos, who is said to have plundered a cool $10 billion from his country’s treasury, and his fraudulent re-election. Her 1986 “Yellow Revolution,” named after the yellow banners the party used, sent the Marcos’s into exile. Imelda barely had time to sing one last song before supervising the packing up of her shoes. Povrecita!

Cory’s non-violent fight surprised the world and won her the presidency. Her example inspired similar peaceful demonstrations around the world and eventually toppled autocrats in other well-entrenched dictatorships, in particular in the former communist countries of the USSR.

Now the spirit of LABAN has migrated to Iran where it inspired the “Green Revolution.” As Corazon Aquino is laid to rest on Wednesday, there are rumors that the people of Iran will be restrained under martial law. As the news media has been silenced, I have no doubt that Iranians will continue to tweet their words of protest that Ahmadinejad is not their rightfully elected president, and I have no doubt that Iranians will continue to shout their prayers of peace from the rooftops of Tehran. On Wednesday, along with the children of the Green Revolution, I will pray that Cory’s spirit, the spirit of the peaceful fight of LABAN, is with the people of Iran and guides them to freedom.

NO HANDBAG? NO WAY!

Curiously, when I woke up the morning after the inauguration, after the pageantry and the poetry, the plain speaking of the hard road ahead, the people in the streets cheering and some even tearing up, no lofty words came to mind. We have a new president, I thought happily, recalling the image of Michelle and Barack, walking down Pennsylvania Ave holding hands. A couple in love strolling down the street! It struck me how normal they seemed, how very much like my husband and I when we go walking. Except… hold on! Where was her purse? Michelle was out on the town without the most essential part of any woman’s wardrobe: her clutch, her purse, her bag, her backpack, the stuff every woman carries with her wherever she goes. Surely, she would not have left it in the car, no matter how many times the driver has been bonded. No way, no how. Wherever a woman goes, there goes her purse! Everyone knows Queen Elizabeth II carries hers from room to room in her own castle!

Any woman worth her lip gloss would no sooner leave the house without her bag clutched under her arm, slung over one shoulder, or carried on her back then she would walk around with a run in her nylons. A woman’s handbag is where she carries the essentials of her daily life. If there were a fire, would she not grab the handbag right after snatching up the baby? This is the eternal mystery of women, which men don’t understand as they stuff their pant and coat pockets with wallet, keys, cell phone, and glasses case. It’s not that easy for women. To achieve the sleekest physique, women’s suits and dresses often don’t even have pockets. And those that do are barely adequate for a hankie or a breath mint. I dare any man to fill those pockets with lipstick, comb, powder, hand lotion, fingernail file, perfume, vitamins, a spare pair of nylons, sunglasses, aspirin, Kleenex, appointment book, pen and notebook, toothbrush, toothpaste, business cards, and photos of the kids or grandkids. And just where would he stash an eyelash curler?

This is what worried me when I woke up the morning after the inauguration until I realized what being First Lady really means: NO HANDBAG. As much as we women are attached to our bags, they are heavy and our arms get tired carrying them. I don’t know about Michelle Obama, but my own bag often feels like it weighs a ton. How can you stroll down the avenue, smiling for the cameras, holding hands with your man when you’re toting all that stuff on your other arm? How can you wave to an adoring crowd when you’re schlepping the equivalent of four dozen bagels and two tubs of cream cheese with you wherever you go? This is what Michelle, or some other clever first lady, must have realized right off.

Still, I thought, she needs her stuff. So where is it? This is when my AHA moment hit me: Michelle Obama is too much woman not to have a handbag. Therefore, next time I see Michelle out and about I’m going to watch very carefully because somewhere in the crowd, I would just bet you, there’s a Secret Service man or woman who carries her purse wherever she goes. I’m going to watch for the moment when our beautiful first lady turns, snaps her fingers, and someone will come running with her purse so she can show off the latest photo of the kids or gloss up those gorgeous lips.

NO HANDBAG? NO WAY!