Unsung Heroines

Heroism is often imagined in moments of defiance—standing firm while life is offered for a cause greater than oneself, without expecting a reward or personal gain. It is defined by qualities of courage, determination, and selflessness. 

In Philippine history, everyone is familiar with the traditional roster of heroes who emerged from periods of resistance. Contributions were made. Impacts were celebrated. Stories were taught. For centuries, the word “bayani” has been closely tied to struggle and conflict, highlighting acts of visible valor and sacrifice. But for the most part, the image of the hero has followed a distinctly masculine pattern: a name etched in textbooks, a statue cast in bronze, and more often than not, a man. 

And long before society began recognizing women’s place in the heroic narrative, the framework of history had already been written in ways that rarely included them. This raises a question: why, then, did it take so long to realize that women were capable of embodying the same ideals, leaving countless stories lingering at the margins of history?

A World That Was Not Built for Women

To understand how this imbalance took root, during the pre-Hispanic period, treatment between a man and a woman didn't make any difference. They could own property, lead communities, and participate in decision-making alongside men. Filipino women were recognized for their influence in social and cultural life. Many served as babaylan, acting as spiritual leaders, warriors, healers, and chiefs with authority in ritual and governance. Their leadership was rooted in both respect and responsibility, allowing it to flourish.

However, this dynamic changed when the Spaniards came during the 16th century, introducing European patriarchal and Christian doctrines that reshaped social norms. And these beliefs began to redefine the role of women in Filipino society.

333 years of subjection under Spain diminished women’s social standing, forcing them to live out the stereotyped image of women being timid, modest, and knowing almost nothing but to be obedient to their menfolk. A feminine trait that became the shadow beneath a growing patriarchal social structure, eventually limiting their public roles and occupying society in ways that put men at the center of power.

This marginalization extended to education, social, and political participation. Even if we say that some women were able to be part of it, making it available to men was the priority. Formal learning beyond religious instruction doesn’t stand a chance, as it was believed their knowledge should be spent on domestic skills.

Be a good daughter. A devoted wife. A responsible mother. 

Expectations that locked women within the four corners of the home, and most public spheres slowly became exclusively a male domain. This soon entrenched gender inequality that created a long-lasting perception that women’s contributions were secondary—valued primarily when they conformed to obedience and silence rather than when they challenged the limits placed upon them. 

Were Women Absent or Silenced? 

History, when looked at more closely, reveals that the spirit of heroism among Filipino women was never absent. It was just that their contributions were systematically silenced. This reflects how records of events were often looked through the lens of male-dominated narratives, an interpretation that rarely mirrors the reality of women’s experiences. But despite these constraints, countless Filipino women were rising beyond the roles imposed upon them. They stepped with resistance and sacrifice, proving that bravery wasn’t confined to men alone. 

“Ina ng Biak-na-Bato.” 

Trinidad Tecson, later known as “Mother of the Philippine Red Cross,” played an important role in the Philippine Revolution through her courage and service. She joined the Katipunan at the age of 47 and fought alongside male revolutionaries, even helping take firearms from Spanish soldiers at a time when weapons were scarce. She wore the Katipunero uniform on the battlefield and took part in several encounters risking her life for independence. 

Tecson also became essential in caring for wounded soldiers, securing food and supplies, and helping transport the sick and injured to safety. Through leadership and sacrifice, she proved that women weren’t just merely witnesses of history—they were part of it. 

“Food is an indispensable factor to the health and strength of a people in time of war or in time of peace.” 

A food technologist and scientist, Maria Ylagan Orosa, was born in 1893. She pursued higher education in pharmaceutical chemistry despite societal challenges. During World War II, faced with food shortages and rising costs, she developed practical food solutions such as banana ketchup, using abundant local bananas as a substitute for imported tomato ketchup to ensure Filipinos could still enjoy familiar taste. She also made other nutritious products to improve public nutrition. Orosa’s courage lay in her willingness to use her knowledge and dedication to help others survive hard times, showing that bravery can take many forms.

“Democracy is Dead in the Philippines under Martial Law.”

Liliosa “Lilli” Rapi Hilao was a student of Communication Arts at the Pamantasan ng Lungsod ng Maynila and is remembered as the first political detainee to die under martial law in the Philippines. In 1972, she didn’t participate in rallies because of her health, but spoke out through her writing. In one of her essays, she wrote about the death of democracy when Ferdinand Marcos Sr. declared martial law. On April 4, 1973, Liliosa Hilao was taken from her home without a warrant. When she demanded legal grounds for her arrest, she was instead handcuffed and brought to Camp Crame. That evening, she was beaten and abused. Her family later saw her bloodied and tortured, but couldn’t intervene.

By April 5, she was dead. Authorities claimed she took her own life though the evidence said otherwise. She was killed, and even sexually abused. Hilao’s courage—her refusal to yield even in captivity—endures as a testament of the strength it takes to stand for justice. 

When Courage Didn’t Fit the Mold

For generations, the way society defines heroism has always been shaped by its narrow set of expectations of what courage should look like: visible, loud, and confrontational, acts that put one in the public eye. Bravery was measured in scars, victories, and the applause of the crowd. Women, however, were often deemed incompatible with this mold, and with cultural norms, patriarchal beliefs, and centuries of exclusion supporting it, other forms of courage were seen as natural but too subtle or domestic to be recognized as heroic. 

Still, it doesn't always demand a spotlight. At times, it moves subtly. 

It is found in palms that reach out to help the wounded, the hungry, or the lost. It is in minds that invent ways to feed starving communities, turning scarce resources into hope. It is in hearts that refuse to remain silent, who speak truth when safety is at stake, resisting oppression even under the weight of violence.

History may have overlooked these acts, but they were never absent. Every small risk, every act of steadfastness was itself a rebellion—a declaration that heroism could wear many faces. 

Whom we celebrate as a hero depends on who tells the story. The truth is, it was never really about capability. It was about perspective, about biases that determined which stories were remembered, praised, and preserved for generations. To ask why there are “few” female heroes is also to object to how it has been defined and who has been allowed to be seen. 

More Than One Hero

As the past continues to be studied and retold, it carries the responsibility of looking beyond what was traditionally recorded. The stories of women throughout Philippine history—those who challenged limitations, pursued knowledge, or stood for principle—remind us that it’s not confined to a single path, and that courage is never limited by gender. Long before recognition came, many had already stepped forward because heroism, after all, has always existed beyond familiar figures found in textbooks, in bronze. It has lived in places where help was needed most. 

The question, then, is not whether women were absent from acts of heroism, but whether the lens through which we define and record them was ever wide enough to see them. Perhaps the clearest answer is: history has always been filled with courageous women, and we simply weren’t always taught to see them.

In the end, it returns to its simplest meaning: the willingness to act with courage, determination, and selflessness for others. And if heroism is defined by noble action and sacrifice, then it was never exclusively male to begin with. 

What it truly represents isn’t a single picture shaped by tradition, but a shared capacity to serve, resist, and rise for the greater good.

Article: Eunice Torres

Graphics: Nicole Beverly Maniego