Campaign Wife: The case against First Lady
Political wife. Two separate words I hardly ever used all my life. I swore off the temptations of politics in my twenties. I abandoned the possibility of ever being a wife by the time I was 30. But then, surprise-surprise. To the daughter I may still be blessed with but who, for now, remains but a twinkle in my eye, I am preparing to say, “Don’t you dare ever get married in the middle of a political campaign.” Of course, for all of my I-never-thoughts, you can imagine how crash-landing into a full-blown national political campaign as a newlywed wasn’t as smooth as I never really believed it would be. Imagine: sky-diving for the first time into a forested jungle in your wedding gown. Upon landing, you tear off everything white to expose green and brown — camouflage fatigue overalls, throw off your high heels for army boots, your veil for a combat helmet and your bridal bouquet for, well, you can have your weapon of choice to imagine. I prefer an Uzi in one hand and a rocket-propelled grenade in the other. It’s too funny to write or read about. It’s not that funny while actually being in virtual warfare — when you should be snuggling up to your husband for your honeymoon. Then, as if it weren’t hard enough putting up, the political wife has evolved to become fodder for interest and gossip, malicious suspicion and made dartboard by people with idle time on their hands. When you don’t smile enough: “Ay, supladaaaa!” When you smile too much: “Naku, feel na feeeel!” Give us a break.
Blame it on the self-indulgent Cleopatra, the tyrannical and excessive Marie Antoinette, Imelda’s 3,000 pairs of shoes or Hillary Clinton’s popping eyeballs in a debate with Barack Obama that screamed ambition. Fair historical judgment or not, the political wife today bears the brunt of this evolved perception.
“And here with us today is the beloved wife of our very own Vice President-to-be Mar Roxas! The future…the future…uhmmm, First Lady of the Vice President… or should I say, Second Lady (second lady?) of the land, Miss Korina Sanchez…Roxas?” the local radio announcer in Roxas City in Capiz was evidently perplexed. “Yes, I believe that’s my husband’s surname so I think ganyan na rin ang apelyido ko ngayon…” I quickly said, breaking the ice for what was to be the nth provincial interview and the nth time I would insist and educate that there was no such thing as a “First Lady of the Vice President” and definitely no “Second Lady of the Land.”
The rest of the drill: “Naku, hindi po, kailangan mayroon naman!” the radio anchor often responds. And I would say, “Sorry po, una, hindi pa po kami nananalo. At wala po talagang ganyang titulo. Huwag na natin ipilit,” as I often beg. Every other time I swear I feel the discussion escalating into imminent hostility — just right until everyone else in the booth breaks into laughter. Thank goodness. Change topic.
In a plane ride to Davao from Cebu I am over-analyzing the phenomenon. What is it about political couples that the wife is almost always expected to play some boxed-in, cliché, almost cartoonish role with some contrived title? What’s the deal with “First Lady?”
There was a time not too long ago — sometime before this campaign started — that I was always automatically addressed the same way the past 20 years or so, definitively. “And here now is broadcast journalist Miss Korina Sanchez.” Now, in a matter of a few months, I have become Mrs. Mar Roxas, Misis ni Mar, Wife of the… and, most recently in Dumaguete, Mrs. Palengke. It’s perfectly all right. But, future Second Lady? Possibly, because of the equal visibility and familiarity to people — to Mar his constituency and, to me, my daily audience — many believe that the wife, for all of what she puts up with and gives up, should be getting something out of the whole big deal, right? Therefore, the “title.” I say, it depends on what the wife is “getting.” And, certainly, it depends on the wife.
Yes, there are as many kinds of political wives as there are kinds of politicians. I am guessing that husband and wife are not necessarily the same in the beginning but, by osmosis, the stronger personality determines how the political couple would later end up in the pages of history. For some wives who might have married too early and cling on to their husband’s identity for dear life, the husband’s position becomes theirs as well and they live through the lives of their celebrated spouses. For some, the upheaval might have been some kind of surprise attack — had no say, was never consulted and, before they knew it, their front gates now have to remain open 24/7 for anyone who might want to camp out on the family lawn and spend the night. For some, okay, I’ve seen it myself, they do so look forward to The Title. First Lady of Bgy. Balimbing, First Lady of San Francisco, or, the “prize catch,” simply First Lady.
“Uuuuy, magiging First Lady ka na…” Good grief. I never really learned how to react whenever people would say that when Mar was running for President. What exactly does a First Lady do anyway? Why First Lady? Is there a second and a third? Wearing those dresses with a string of pearls holding a purse, coiffed, made up and smiling throughout an entire Independence Day Parade looks extremely uncomfortable.
Months before taking a leave of absence from my job as radio commentator, it was unfathomable giving up the microphone and the freedom that comes with it for a shackled existence. Most people might have no idea how it is for a woman to come up on her own, rise in a competitive profession, be sufficient, content and not imagine anything else that could make her happier. Ergo, most people might have no idea how it is a woman could not care any less being First or “Second Lady.” Being my own lady for so long there is very weak argument for being anyone else’s lady.
When my husband slid to Vice Presidential candidate it was such a load off my back. But, thanks to Noy and Shalani who have yet to talk of marriage, there is still no other “official wife” to watch in the fishbowl. Noy and the likes of Herbert Bautista of Quezon City, Icot Petilla of Leyte or Grace Padaca of Isabela trump the notion that you have to have a spouse to look whole to your voters. Of course, while I’d like to believe majority of Pinoys would welcome the idea of their friend from Rated K to stay prominently by the side of her husband, the usual suspects remain lurking in the dark waiting for every chance to have something to say about that.
I was once watching Mar talk to farmers in Pangasinan about how it would take only P15 million to irrigate acres of parched land as far as the eyes can see to produce triple their harvest. While people in power can have one dinner worth a million bucks, most of these farmers can only hope to have the next meal. Meantime I was having enlightening conversation with the women who are also farmers. They claim women have a greener thumb than the men. But they say they could be more helpful to the family if they had more productive work to do and higher income to earn. The children are 10-year-olds who look six. Undernourished and burnt from toil under the sun, their slipper-less little feet are calloused, cut and covered with soil and dirt.
Let’s put it this way. If the deal for the wife were simply to have some title, strut around in glamour frocks with an imaginary crown and scepter, photographed in socials and be surrounded by a coterie of blue, green, orange or yellow ladies? Please, may I go back to being the boss of my own voice and not be demoted to a cartoon? But if the deal were to get the chance to meaningfully help make a real, tangible difference in the lives of those who need help most, build self-sustaining communities, without fanfare or jewelry and simply be clad in jeans and T-shirt — for six tireless years? Now that would be worth giving up a life-as-I-knew-it for. Thanks, but no need for titles. The important thing is my husband’s assurance that I am his, ahem, Only Lady.
