In 2021 in Tokyo, Japan, Hidilyn Diaz stands before her third and final attempt at the 55kg division of the women’s weightlifting division while a host details her other accomplishments: competing in Beijing, London, and then finally, winning silver in Rio de Janeiro.
As she lifts an Olympic record-breaking 127 kg off the ground, isolated shouts from her coaches and supporters overlay her own grunt. When she finally coaxes the weight over her head and stands upright, despite her quivering and how low she had to lunge, the crowd erupts in cheers while Diaz’s own face splits into a euphoric mix of disbelief and triumph.
As she stands tall with 127 kg over her head with a grace and strength that is almost otherworldly, the host proudly declares, “Philippines, the wait is over! The gold is yours!”
Diaz, in a moment that will be remembered by the Philippine consciousness forever, drops the weight and shrieks with joy. Her coaches run over to embrace her as she staggers backward in elation, covering her face as she cries, the literal weight of all her hard work and sacrifice coming to a beautiful, critical point.
In a red room with the Olympics logo emblazoned behind her, she sticks out, defiant and proud in bright blue with “Philippines” printed across her chest as she tearfully thanks her coaches around her and the camera, chalk still streaked on her palms. Later, she sings the national anthem, beaming as she stands tall on the highest tier of the medalist platform.
All over the Philippines, social media erupts. Videos of Hidilyn Diaz’s win are posted everywhere, with fellow Filipinas in particular triumphantly sharing the moment she became a gold medalist and, later on, how she became a huge beacon for women around the country trying to chase their own athletic dreams.
Her name and triumph became a prayer for everyone in the Philippines, but it resonated especially with women and female athletes who, for a very long time, felt and continue to feel that the sports world is one in which they aren’t always included.
Filipino athletes carrying the torch
Whether in its roots in Ancient Greece’s Olympic games or the pervasive gender pay gap in the contemporary sports world, women have often been overlooked, left out of conversations, or even simply barred entry altogether. This is not surprising, given that we have had a historic uphill battle to be included in most anything—especially something as male-dominated as the sports world.
While we now enjoy our women’s divisions for sports and female-oriented sports in general, it’s still hard to say that equity is all there, especially in a Philippines that is still so embroiled in its own machismo and its long history of gender insensitivity. We’ve come a long way, yes, but there is still a lot of work to be done in a sports world still largely saturated by and often designed for men.
It’s plain to see when sold-out stadiums for men’s basketball championships at the collegiate level are televised with sponsors and commercials, while many women-led sports usually only have the team’s friends and family at the sidelines, shelling out their own money for transportation and equipment (with a few exceptions).
Francesca Altomonte, national athlete for softball, asserts, “The sports world—it’s ruled by older men.”
Cam Rodriguez, player for the Philippine Women’s National Football Team who qualified for the FIFA Women’s World Cup, agrees as she recalls attempts to get funding. “We needed to wrestle with leaders to give us sufficient financial support and priority for field availability prior to official international tournaments. We were expected to win, but we were given limited resources to help us do so. It felt as though we needed to prove that we deserved support before being given support.”
Jamaica Jornacion, champion pole athlete and founder of pole and aerial studio Beast House, also echoes this sentiment—especially as an athlete from a sport that isn’t often even recognized as a sport here in the Philippines, or is considered “taboo.”
“With pole, there was no support from the government, but I’m very lucky because I had support from my students and my family. Compared to other sports, like basketball or any other dance style, pole is still so far away from even being seen as a sport here, even if we win abroad,” she says.
Jornacion recounts winning gold and being recognized—but only after the fact. “It’s good, but you need more than a trophy to reach your dreams,” she says as she points out that all those competitions were self-financed.
Astrid Borje, an international aerial hoop and trapeze champion and instructor at Beast House, agrees.
“The first time I tried joining a competition, everyone from Taiwan and Thailand who joined was sponsored by their governments. Kami lang hindi. Doon ko nakita na parang we always get recognized outside of the country, yet we never get funding or help—it’s all us. Pera ko ‘yun,” she narrates.
Even if we fly banners welcoming FIlipina athletes home from their competitions abroad, they are often the ones tasked with the additional burden of finding the funding to get there in the first place. As competent athletes, they should be given the support they need throughout the process, and not just when they prove they’re worth it—as if a medal can supplement the financial burden to represent a country that doesn’t even see them until after the glory.
Superficiality sidelines female athletes
When the conversations about women’s sports predictably turn to looks and beauty instead of the power, grit, and discipline it takes to be an athlete, it’s almost a given. Most, if not all, female athletes have experienced being scrutinized by men in the sports world and judged as to whether or not they fit the mold that this world imposes on women.
Female athletes almost always face being picked apart for their looks and objectified. Instead of the conversations revolving around their prowess, it often morphs into what they’re wearing, how they look, if they’re presentable, if they’re feminine, and if they still appeal to the male gaze. They’re policed to look, dress, or appear a certain way—even athletes.
Sabina Yulo, powerlifter and founder of body acceptance community Hi Smithy!, comments, saying, “There’s a common misconception, especially in the Philippines, that women shouldn’t lift because they should be ‘feminine’ and lifting might make their muscles big. When I started lifting, I had family tell me to be careful because I might get bigger or ‘look like a man,’ as if women shouldn’t show physical strength or take up too much physical space. But women don’t exist in this life to look pretty and be dainty. We can be strong instead, or we can be strong as well.”
She adds, “When you’ve been conditioned to think that your beauty is all you have to offer, it’s difficult to unlearn.”
Because of this pressure to always look pretty and to focus on appearance, some female athletes still take extreme precautions just to avoid looking unpresentable. Altomonte weighs in on the pressure to stay fair-skinned even in sports that had girls playing under the sun:
“Back then, if the uniform had shorts, they’d be wearing leggings underneath and long sleeves under jerseys. Nowadays, I see long sleeves and long socks, face covers, caps, shades, and a handkerchief around their faces just to cover their face so they don’t get dark from the sun,” she says, though acknowledges that there has been a bit more acceptance in recent years.
When a sport is more dominated by women, like dance or aerial arts, the conversation shifts to being strictly about aesthetics instead of the inherent strength and difficulty it takes to look that graceful. These women are subjected to hundreds of anonymous comments devaluing and stripping them of their personhood, what makes them powerful, and even the challenge of what they’re doing. Comments focused solely on how hot they are dominate any conversation. Instead of discussing technique and discipline, as many would with male-led sports, they turn it into a beauty competition.
Instagram famously even faced backlash for shadowbanning many pole dancers, limiting their reach. Instagram said these posts, no matter what, were deemed “inappropriate” according to their community guidelines, which many aerial artists and pole dancers protested.
Borje adds to this, saying, “The people who are doing this are strong women, strong men. We come from different professions—lawyers, doctors, all kinds of jobs. And yet you think of us as lowly, mababa ang tingin, or as ‘just’ strippers. And even then, if that were true, there’s nothing even wrong with being a stripper.”
Women-led sports, like certain dance styles, aerial arts, and pole dancing, are often looked down on or have a stigma still attached by virtue of their history, despite how contemporary athletes have reclaimed something that used to subjugate women and turned it into a full-fledged sport.
Jornacion continues by acknowledging pole dancing’s origins and how a lot of people still try to hide it. “Pole dancing is evolving. It’s an art. Sometimes, when I do interviews, they try to edit the history when I talk about it, which is that it came from strippers—and that’s the truth. How we climb, the shoes we wear, everything came from the strippers. It’s an important highlight for me to acknowledge that.” She nods as she acknowledges the women who made the first forays into the art form she loves today.
Jornacion adds that, with pole, there’s an extra emphasis on objectification and artistry being devalued because of the sport’s origins.
“I’m at the stage where I feel free to produce something, to create something. I’m equipped. But then I feel cornered. No matter the outcome, even if the standard is really high, some people will still refuse to accept it. Sometimes it’s because I, the producer, am a woman, and the artist is referred to as ‘just a woman.’ A big factor is that pole dancing is involved, and it’s still not fully accepted, no matter the technique or difficulty. Sometimes I feel like the Philippines still isn’t ready for it,” she says.
It becomes a tiresome game of too feminine and then not feminine enough. Women are told to look a certain way but only to a “tasteful” degree—all standards imposed externally by people who have little to no interest in recognizing these women as athletes anyway. Female athletes, despite their strengths and accolades in their chosen sport, are constantly pared down and criticized for not fitting into societal boxes.
“My video played while my tito in the US was at work, and his co-worker asked, ‘Why are you watching a stripper at work?’ My tito said, ‘What are you talking about? That’s my niece!’ His co-worker said, ‘Your niece is a stripper?’ Sabi niya, ‘No, she’s an athlete!'” Borje adds to this sentiment.
Standing in the way of success
Many female athletes also acknowledge that there’s still a gap between the support and funding they get compared to male athletes, as well as being compared to men’s teams despite having their own identities.
“I remember people saying, ‘May women’s team pala ’yung football, kala ko pang lalaki lang ’yun.’ Now, we’re more known as the Filipinas and ‘yung team na nag-World Cup,’ haha!” Rodriguez says with a laugh, glad to be recognized for her hard work after she and her team qualified for the FIFA Women’s World Cup in 2022.
In a male-dominated sport like lifting, Yulo knows that comparisons with male counterparts aren’t productive, as their physiology means they’re capable of different things.
Borje echoes this, saying that though she often feels frustrated with herself for taking longer to land strength-based tricks compared with men who try out the craft, she’s still always thankful for her own strengths as a woman and as an individual that gives her an edge in other aspects of the sport.
Beyond that, many of our female athletes have also highlighted the intense pay gap that does exist for women-led sports that aren’t as popular.
“Pay is still definitely a challenge as a female football player. With the absence of a local professional football league and contracts as a national team athlete, we are pushed to find other means to sustain ourselves. Some of us take coaching jobs, others a corporate job,” says Rodriguez.
It would be disingenuous to say that all women-led sports are undersupported—but even the ones that do get a lot of support are usually because the physiques of the players align with what the patriarchal sports world demands. Volleyball, for example, is wildly popular in the Philippines and, thankfully, is very well-supported. However, it’s easy to see the discrepancy compared to other sports and how physical appearance plays a part as well.
Altomonte adds to this, saying, “Volleyball thankfully does get a lot of support, but I’ve been told that getting that same support for softball just isn’t possible because we’re not ‘pretty’ like the volleyball girls. We’re not tall or slender; we’re dark, all that.”
She says this while acknowledging how difficult volleyball can be, but how people still often focus on the appearance aspect still and, unfortunately, often do not reserve that same energy for other women-led sports.
A spirited community
Fortunately, the women in these sports have also found communities, motivations, and inspirations in spite of the difficulties they’ve faced.
“When I’m around other lifters or people who appreciate the sport and don’t think of sports and exercise as just methods for weight loss, I feel celebrated. Being around people who get it makes me feel validated—especially in competitions; the energy is wild. It’s so inspiring to see other women show and celebrate their strength and all the hard work they’ve put in to lift their weights,” says Yulo.
“I stopped thinking about the superficial reasons for working out. I stopped doing it for the abs or the weight loss. I stopped looking at myself as a weight loss project. I stopped thinking about what people will think of me,” Yulo adds when expounding on her motivation and how being surrounded by others who celebrate rather than reduce the sport has become her driving force.
“To be in the same room as Filipina athlete greats like Akiko Thomson, Hidilyn Diaz, Bong Coo during the PSC Women in Sports event has been inspiring. I’m a big believer in ‘What you can see, you can be’, and seeing them be successful drives my belief that I can be too. It is my hope that with the work I do, I can help other women believe in their capability as well,” says Rodriguez, knowing that hurdles, while challenging, can be overcome.
“Well, I think when playing internationally, you feel you are really equal and that you are a real athlete. In multisport events, all the athletes there know what you go through. Every athlete there is different, every physical body is different, and we see each other for the athletes that we are, even if we come in different shapes and sizes. Also, when it comes to softball as a sport in general, people don’t realize that Filipinos are good! Maybe we’re not at the same skill level as other international teams cause we don’t have the coaches, we don’t have the training, and we’re not developing as quickly as others—but we get things done,” explains Altomonte as she acknowledges that those who get it, understand, and they’re the ones whose opinions matter to her.
Borje and Jornacion agree that their students motivate them and make them feel celebrated and part of a community.
“Competing is one thing but teaching? And seeing your students grow every day? That’s the thing—hindi ’yun mababayaran. Seeing them progress and then thinking na, galing ’yan sa’kin. I helped them reach that,” says Borje, beaming.
“You know what amazes me is that some or most of my students work full time, and then they’ll go to the studio and train, and some of them even compete or perform. You work all day, then come to class, and you’re excelling. They have so many roles in life, and they’re still excelling—galing,” says Jornacion.
Filipina athletes are breaking barriers
When it comes to where the journey of women’s sports and female athletes is going, everyone was hopeful despite the hurdles they had to overcome to take their space, celebrate themselves, and continue their craft.
“I believe we made a huge statement by qualifying for the FIFA Women’s World Cup in 2022, winning the AFF Women’s Championship and winning a bronze medal in the Southeast Asian Games in the same year we qualified; and then winning our first game in our maiden appearance in the WC in 2023. This historic, or, her-storic journey has really shifted the narrative of women’s sports and women footballers in the country. Because we were able to achieve such historic feats, people started believing that ‘we can,'” says Rodriguez, noting that she is hopeful for the future of her sport and women-led sports in general.
“There’s still a long way to go—but we’ve come very far,” says Jornacion. Borje says something similar: “There’s still a lot of work to be done.”
Though the road has been paved with additional trials by virtue of these women being women, they all still encourage other athletes to pursue their goals if they have the means and motivation to—whether it’s in the sports world or not. This is because they believe, more than anything, that leveling the proverbial playing field and achieving true equity in sports means taking up space and continuing to excel to prove that it can be done—even when the odds are not in your favor.
“Find what makes you feel strong. Don’t come in thinking about ‘What will make me lose weight the fastest?’ If you do things for weight loss, it won’t stick. And when you stop doing things to prove things to other people, you’ll find a passion that feels true to you,” Yulo adds.
“Believe that you can, put the work in, and surround yourself with good people who believe in you. There is power in building a village that will support you and challenge you for the better. The way you talk to yourself matters. The way you view yourself matters. The people we surround ourselves with help shape how we view ourselves; so choose good people.
“And for more practical advice, learn from the best in your field. Be brave and put yourself out there. There will always be growing to do. The presence of fear is not the absence of capability. You are capable,” Rodriguez says.
“Take it one step at a time. But you have to really know your goal. What do I want to achieve? Know what you want and then work towards that. It’s not going to be easy, it’s not going to be instant. It’s never magic. It may take years, but you have to take that journey to be strong. And you have to start. You can’t just give an excuse like, ‘I’ll only start if mapayat na ako or mas magaan na ako or when I have upper body strength.’ How will you develop that unless you start? Kelan ka magsisimula? There’s nothing wrong with trying,” says Borje.
“At the end of the day, you do it for yourself, not for other people. If you want to try something outside of your comfort zone, do it. Do it now. Everyone had to start; everyone was a beginner. No one was good at the beginning, so you might as well be a beginner among the experts. If it’s not for you, move on. If you find it, your quality of life will be different,” says Jornacion.
“Do it. It’s going to be hard, but if you want change, it’s gotta be done by people who are really passionate about it and who can really make a difference. It’s going to be tough, but everything else is tough anyway—we’re going to face that regardless because we are women. But I think things can change—so do it,” encourages Altomonte.
Despite a sports world not designed to accommodate them, these Filipina athletes have risen through the ranks to claim victory. However, beyond gold and glory, they have cultivated a love for their craft, a discipline to excel, and a path for other women to inch toward their own finish lines with grace and grit that they have prized much more than any trophy they could and have won.
Photos courtesy of the subjects | Art by Ella Lambio
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