I was in the Ugat ng Kalusugan clinic this morning and overheard one of my colleagues speaking with a middle aged woman. She had come in for another shot of DMPA – the injectable contraceptive that protects against pregnancy for 3 months. Our nurse, looking at her records, said, “You were supposed to come back for another shot on April 20.” This was potentially problematic, as it meant that she may have been unprotected in the last several days. She shrugged it off and said, “Ay ok lang yan, wala namang gumagamit sa akin ngayon” (“Oh, it’s ok, no one is using me [for sex] right now.”)

I cringed when I heard this. I’ve heard this many times before but it has not lost its effect on me. Women and girls all over the Philippines regularly objectify themselves as something their partners can use for sex. “Wag kang magpagamit (don’t let [him] use you).” “Nagpagamit ako (I allowed [him] to use me).”  “Ginamit nya ako ([He] used me).”

In casual conversations, few people react when they hear women speak about their sexual encounters in this way. How accepted this is speaks volumes about how women are perceived when it comes to sex. The men are the users and women are to be used. Not only does this reinforce the schizophrenic culture of sexuality of the Philippines (Maria Clara for women, Ramon Revilla Sr. for men), but it also strengthens the narrative that women are not and should not be active participants in sex.

I’ve heard girls we work with say that they never really wanted to have sex and that it did not feel good. I’ve been at a gathering where hundred of sexually active women were asked who had a safe and satisfying sex life and only a handful of women raised their hands. When asked about orgasms, most women and girls admit that they’ve never (or only rarely) had one. 

This all reinforces the idea that it’s ok for men to want sex, have sex, and enjoy sex, but it’s not ok for women. And that if a woman is participating in sex, that she’s passive, and just letting herself be used.

A few years ago one of our youth team members, Amie Perez, wrote a blog post about this same issue and said:

“For the sake of non-Filipino speakers, let me translate a bit, without the confusing conjugations.

Gamit (the root word of ginamit), used as a verb, means “to use.” You gamit a computer. You gamit a dishwasher. You gamit a spoon and fork. Used as a noun, it may mean objects, possessions, things that serve a purpose. Your computer is your gamit. Your clothes are your gamits. You gamit your gamits

When women themselves use these words, they take away their power over their own bodies and their own pleasure. It paints the woman who partakes in a sexual act as a passive creature, a receptacle for a man’s pleasure, unable to express her sexual self fully. It is refusing to acknowledge that the sex is/was consensual and mutually pleasurable. Or was it? Is the use of these words but a reflection of what happens in a lot of Filipino bedrooms? Or do Filipinos have this idea of sex–where men are cavemen and women can’t help but oblige or risk losing their partners–because of the way we refer to it in everyday language?”

In her blog post, Amie goes on to say that she and our other teachers would gently correct students who spoke like this by reminding them that they weren’t things to be used. Our clinical team members do this as well. Words matter, and none of us should be speaking in a way that so blatantly objectifies women. This is of course part of a larger and more difficult conversation about women and empowerment and sexuality. But it’s not hard to momentarily interrupt a conversation when this comes up and remind the speaker that she is a person and not an object. It’s a small thing but it can make a difference.