Women of the Weeping River (Dayoc, 2016) prologues with an elderly woman sitting beside a table where a grasshopper, infested with ants, flaps its wings as it awaits death. Then, it cuts to a wide shot of another woman in widow’s weeds standing still on top of a hill, on her back are the sporadic flashes of lightning amongst the ominous clouds. Lastly, a sequence of two women, drenched under the rain, dragging a dead body across the forest is seen. Aside from the bleak weather and the subtle portrayal of demise connecting these shots, a common theme ultimately weaves these women. That being, they were among the weeping women of rido.
This paper examines the actualization of rido as depicted in the regional film by Sheron Dayoc. In further understanding the cultural basis of revenge killings, the Tausug concept of shame is integrated. Lastly, using the framework of standpoint theory, this essay problematizes the nuanced gender aspect of rido vis a vis the role of standpoint in the achievement of peace.
Whose knowledge is produced? Who benefits from them? And who suffers the costs of those unproduced? These are the important questions (Harding, 1991) of the theoretical framework that emerged in the 1970s from a group of feminist scholars who were inspired by the argument of Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels. The two observed that the proletariat, or the oppressed class, has access to knowledge that is not available to the privileged class, making them society’s ideal knowers insofar as they understand the class struggle in which they are a part of (Borland, 2014). Building on this, standpoint theory was a response to traditional epistemological theories that claim objectivity and has since argued that the marginalized sectors have a unique and more accurate worldview.
Standpoint theorists criticize privileged groups who secure authority in knowledge production. These groups maintained a status quo that ignores and homogenizes diverse experiences by defining what it means to be someone or the other, resulting in oppression and marginalization (Griffin et al., 2019). Standpoint theory, then, asserts that our perspective is shaped by our social location, i.e. our demographic characteristics—including sex, age, ethnicity, economic status, and religion—within systems of hierarchy. In other words, one's standpoint is “achieved through critical reflection on power relations and their consequences (Wood, 2005, p. 62)” Therefore, the experiences of the marginalized vis a vis the privileged provide them with a more nuanced, comprehensive, and inclusive understanding of social realities. This ideally urges them to challenge the status quo.
In the context of rido, standpoint theory forwards the same line of questioning: whose knowledge is produced in the actualization of clan feuds, and who benefits and suffers from them? Knowledge in this case would account for the cultural rationalization of its enduring practice. Using the framework of standpoint, it allows for a reevaluation of this indigenous tradition through those whose experiences are immediate in the production of revenge.
Following the film’s title credits, an old man pastors a white carabao across a flowing river. In this static shot, we hear a woman’s voice in the background telling an anecdote about a man finding a Quran floating in the river and another man retrieving the same sacred book from a burning house. The voice belongs to Farida, the elderly woman introduced earlier, who now sits on the floor of the Mustafas’ hut. Across from her is the family patriarch, Mustafa whose wife and two male children sit beside him, and his only daughter behind. As the proverbial anecdote concludes, Farida suggests to the family to settle their feud with the Ismaels, “[W]e have to remember the important message of our Creator—as a family of men, we are all brothers and sisters."
Separated by the aforesaid river, the two Tausug and Muslim families had been living harmoniously as neighbors until the latter unlawfully occupied a part of the former family’s land, leading to the recent death of Satra’s husband Hasmullah. Mustafa (the father) courteously refuses to follow Farida's counsel, emphasizing that the death of his kin has been their limit for holding back force. He expresses, “I will not have a heart for my enemies until they pay for the lives they took from us. I swear in the name of my ancestors, we will have our land back.” Knowing what this would mean in the long run, Farida turns to the widow and asks if she wills to accept blood money and settle with the Ismaels. Satra, too, declines. Disappointed to fulfill her role as a mediator, Farida returns to the old patriarch and asks, “Aren’t you afraid for your family?”—a simple rhetorical question that understatedly confronts the endurance of rido. Such endurance can be understood in the Tausug concept of shame referred to as sipug.
Sipug is the inner feeling anchored on expectations. When one does something that is expected of him—for example, a father who provides for his family—is said to have a sense of shame. This is similar to not doing what is not desirable, or to withdraw from dangerous or humiliating situations where one’s honor and pride could be harmed. On the contrary, not fulfilling something that is expected is considered having no shame or way sipug; for example, a father who does not provide for his family. Simply, sipug results from doing or failing to do what is culturally acceptable, making it maintained by social pressure rather than one’s personal judgment (Tan, 1981). While this seems a common understanding of shame in general, what makes sipug indigenous is it serves as the common denominator of all Tausug basic values. One of which is reciprocity.
Sipug manifests in two polarized practices of reciprocity. One is buddi, a reciprocity in which the reinforcement of sipug is always in a positive sense (Tan, 1981). On the other hand, revenge is described by Kiefer (1968, p. 124) as “a special instance of reciprocity” for instead of gratitude that is exchanged, it is antagonism wherein the worst case it could be expressed is by killing. In both cases, sipug is “the controlling factor that is responsible for their expressions or actualization (Tan, 1981, p. 298)” in which reciprocity, be it in terms of gift or blood, is inherently expected in order to avoid being the subject of social criticism and degradation. In buddi, it is considered shameful when the giver asks for reciprocation since it is already assumed that the recipient will return the favor; conversely, the latter is said to have no shame if he is unwilling to reciprocate. In revenge, it is viewed as shameful if the recipient of antagonism does not act on it. Ultimately, Kiefer (1968) writes, while buddi cannot be demanded but must be returned, revenge must be demanded but cannot be repaid.
Another feature of reciprocity is the lack of equilibrium whenever the gift/blood is reciprocated; that is because payment is said to be not without an interest. Due to the ambiguous nature or value of debts that one is seldom unsure if they have been fulfilled, the receiving end would always have to return the gift/blood with a value exceeding that of what he received (Kiefer, 1968). The necessity to overpay ensures that the original payment is repaid and the interest shifts the obligation to the other. In the context of rido, the desire to antagonize the other is a projection of superiority (i.e. one is braver, stronger, more powerful) so that the attempt to retaliate will not be successful. In other words, one will always be motivated and justified to fight back (Kiefer 1968). This could explain why the Mustafas had been patient for a long time since the Ismaels started occupying their land; the latter might not have been so effective for the former to see it as an opportunity to use their force until the Ismaels killed one of the Mustafas. Following that, the latter’s patriarch’s unwillingness to settle is informed by sipug where settlement can be inferred as a dishonor to his ancestors who had cultivated their land, a failure to bring justice to his late kins, or as an implication of his inability to retribute the antagonism caused by the Ismaels.
Furthermore, reciprocity with interest puts forward how women are perceived and treated in the production of rido. In rido, women are less vulnerable as primary targets for revenge killings; a code of honor according to Samira Gutoc which states that women (including the children and the elderly) are seen as defenseless and only as collateral damage (ReliefWeb, 2009). While this code seemingly safeguards women, it suggests that their enemies perceive them as unworthy of consideration in the act of killing. This is indeed an uncommon way of viewing women vis a vis death, and one which stresses the male-centeredness of revenge behavior. However, there is a slippery tendency to evaluate rido in the apparent categories of men and women. While men are the obvious primary sources of rido, it does not suffice to capture a comprehensive understanding of the issue. Evidently, once families enter into revenge, their immediate and extended members—men, women, and children—are inevitably implicated.
WWR shows two contrasting views between the focal female characters Satra and Farida. Having been a victim of rido herself, Farida took the courtesy to visit the Mustafas and suggested they settle their feud with the Ismaels. Satra, still grieving for her late husband, seconded her father in dismissing Farida’s suggestion. In this contrast, Farida is the only one who has manifested a standpoint despite the fact that they are both women and victims of rido. Satra, in this case, remains passive in the structure that is affecting her. She might have already realized the cruelty of their situation, but has yet to have a standpoint on its structure. In like manner, during Satra and Shadiya’s first encounter in the woods, their exchange of animosities only emphasizes their subscription to the peristing violence between their families. Therefore, while one’s location on the margins of society is necessary, as Harding (2004) and Wood (2005) claims, it is not sufficient and neither is it a guarantee to achieve a critical reflection on power relations. At this point am I now inclined to rectify what I said earlier about Satra. In the strictest sense of the word, she is passive in allowing the men to take revenge but this does not acquit her with innocence. More so, this “passiveness” needs nuance.
Since male are mainly targeted for revenge attacks, their space and mobility are compromised. This results in what seems a switching of traditional gender roles. While the men stay in close proximity to their homes, the women are obligated to go outdoors, work, and provide for their family.
In the film, we almost never get to see the men do work that is not directly relevant to revenge (i.e. acquiring and learning to use weapons). It is often the women who are in the forest digging for crops, selling copras in the market, and trading their golds and jewelries just so they can feed their family and buy weapons for their men. This may seem empowering, but this shows that the women are far from passive members of rido. Their role might not directly shed blood from their enemies but they nonetheless finance the guns and bullets that their men used to. It is only a matter of time that those bullets return to the heads of their husbands and children.
On another note, some men vacillate between feelings of gratitude for their wife supporting them and shame as they become less significant as head of their homes (Dwyer & Guiam, 2012). As a way to compensate for their deficiencies, they remain in the default frontline against their enemies. Meaning, if they cannot work outside then at least they can protect their families. This is paradoxical since it is their very duty as men of rido that is impeding them to perform their other roles as family heads, yet it is also understood, under sipug, that settling would connote their inability to protect their family.