Why must we be painted this way?

Due to the gruesome crime committed by a Filipina to another Filipina here in Singapore less than two weeks ago, Singaporeans were again re-introduced to the women from the Philippines. The Filipino woman, as pictured by the press, though attractive with her easy laughter and affectionate ways, is no different from any woman from any other poverty-stricken Third World country – in search of a pot of gold, a better life and a man to share her dreams and make them all come true.

Majority of Filipinos working here may have been made up of domestic workers but why must they forget about the professionals like me? Here’s the picture they painted of the Filipino woman: she leaves her family at home to give them a better life, and due to the incessant demands of money from back home, she had to find a man who would be willing enough to help her solve her problems – a relationship of convenience. Nope, not all domestic helpers are like than but most of them you’ll find on Sundays filling the discos in Orchard Towers for a tea dance (more like day disco) and rubbing elbows and butts with Singaporeans, expat Caucasians and many from the subcontinent (lonely bachelors or men bored with their marriages).

These clubs don’t run-out of Filipino women, as the sun goes down and the domestic helpers troop out to go back to their regular work, the professional women take over, with slinkier dresses. These are the women who, most often than not, come into the country as a tourist with a two-week visa and aren’t suppose to work. They were there to cajole men to buy $15 worth bottle of beer and they get to keep $5 of it. I’d blame the budget airlines for the onslaught of these types of women here. I could even hear Tagalog conversations now at Geylang (the red-light district here), a place that was once lorded by Thai and Mainland Chinese girls.

No wonder professionals like me get in this kind of situation:

Filipina programmer boards a taxi on a weekday: Uncle, Tampines Central.
Driver: You Filipina?
Filipina: Yes (in a condescending manner)
Driver: You’re lucky your boss lets you out of the house on a weekday.
Filipina: I’m not a maid, Uncle! (flabbergasted that she was mistaken for a maid)
Driver: Oh, yeah, you don’t look like one. (after looking at the woman from the rearview mirror) At which bar/club do you work here?
Filipina: I don’t work in a club either; I work in a bank. (now more irate than ever)
Driver: Oh, so married a Singaporean, then.

The Filipina paid her fare, alights outside a bank’s building, and mutters to herself, “Deep shit!”