Women’s Bodies and Mountain Ranges
The connections between Iranian women’s struggle for freedom and the largest mountain range in the Philippines
Super Typhoon Karding (Internationally, Noru) hit the Philippines last Sunday, hitting the Polillo islands and low lying coastal areas in Quezon, Eastern Luzon before moving to provinces in central Luzon. Much of the damage dealt was to farmers and fisherfolk, whose fields and coastal regions were flooded; many farmers’ livelihoods were lost as their crops, almost ready for harvest, were inundated. Hundreds of people were killed.
A decade ago, on almost the exact same day that Karding made landfall, Super Typhoon Ondoy hit the Philippines on September 26th, 2013. Just nine months ago, there was Super Typhoon Odette. The devastation that the Philippines faces from typhoons each year is almost unimaginable.
What’s strong enough to fight a super typhoon? A 540 kilometer long, 1,900 meter tall mountain range. Last week, as Karding gathered wind and rain, the mountains of Sierra Madre locked arms underneath the earth, hunkered down, and braced for impact. Winds racing at two hundred fifty kilometers per hour battered the mountains, fighting to get through to the valleys, but Sierra Madre weakened the storm. Destruction came, inevitably, but we would have faced far worse if not for Sierra Madre.
As Sierra Madre literally stood between Filipinos and Karding last week, women in Iran stood for freedom, placing their bodies in front of armed militants. It’s got me thinking about the connections between women’s struggle for freedom and our environment.
Women are in solidarity with our other-than-human friends: rivers, mountains, forests. Whether they hold roles as Indigenous elders, activists, organizers, artists, agriculturists, or others, women are key leaders in environmental protection. As many environmentalists pointed out this past week, we need to urgently protect Sierra Madre; illegal quarrying, logging, and government dam projects all threaten the integrity of the mountain range. Many of these environmentalists were women. Because the environment protects us, women protect the environment. I think of Wangari Maathai, the founder of the Kenyan Green Belt movement; LeeAnne Walters, leading the fight for clean water in Flint, Michigan; and all of my mentors and friends here in the Philippines. (To name a few of them: Marinel Ubaldo, Kisha Muaña, Sophia Caralde, Aya de Leon, Therese Guiao, Nicky Torres, Mitzi Tan). There are so many more, and I can’t name all of them. At least in my experience, the majority of leaders and mobilizers in the environmental space are women.
Why is it that women tend to lead the movement for environmental protection? Perhaps it’s because we have played a historically significant role in preserving biodiversity and continue to do so. In 135 subsistence societies globally, women do the majority of gardening, gathering of wild plants, and seed saving, which is key to biodiversity. The importance of seed saving by women cannot be underestimated since in the modern capitalist agricultural system, diverse seeds are being ignored for monoculture. Only three crop species make up 90% of the world’s caloric intake: corn, beans, and rice. In contrast, there are 7,000 plant species that humans eat. Women are undeniably connected to biological diversity, and in ecosystems, just like in societies (for societies are human ecosystems), diversity is a measure of health.
It’s not easy to defend the environment, especially in the Philippines, where environmental defenders are harrassed, illegally arrested, and killed for what they do. More than 270 environmental and land defenders were killed between 2012 and 2021.
Violence against environmental activists certainly isn't unique to the Philippines. It happens all around the world. LeeAnne Walters’ family has faced harassment and her husband threatened. She doesn’t fight out of moral obligation, but out of desperation to save her family from life-threatening pollution. LeeAnne fights for life.
Women. Life. Freedom. This was the chant that Iranian women called as they openly protested. They wore no head scarves. They cut their hair. They are fighting because just those two things can get a woman killed in Iran under the religious militant government. In fact, what sparked the flame was the death of Mahsa Amini under police custody. She was taken because she didn’t wear her hijab properly.
“We all felt like we could be Mahsa. Any one of us women in that country,” Dorsa Jabbari shared. They have nothing to lose when they protest because they feel like at any moment, they could be stopped by the police and face the same fate Mahsa did. They are turning their fear into fury and fighting for what they can still save. They are fighting for all future Iranian women. When I hear about their struggle all the way from the Philippines, I feel like they’re fighting for me, too.
I am struck by the similarities between the strength of women protesting in Iran and the strength of the Sierra Madre, who protected us from Karding last week. When I think of Sierra Madre, I think of all the women in Iran who are sacrificing their safety for justice and change.
At this point, previous notions of women in the environment come up, namely the sexualized nymph. The idea of the nymph is nature anthropomorphized as a young woman. The nymph acknowledges the closeness of women to nature, nodding in slight respect to both, but the nymph is essentially a patriarchal fantasy. She’s mysterious, hard to find and hard to get, and most of all beautiful beyond measure. Her purpose is to cause temptation, to be conquered by a clever hero or such. She’s pure, untouched, a virgin.
The allure of the forest nymph sums up the problematic patriarchal ideas of women and the environment; that we are to be conquered by a man, that we are beautiful only if we are untouched, and that our beauty is exclusive from our age, wisdom, or strength. The Iranian morality police hold these ideas. They claim to be protecting women by demanding them to hide their sexuality (covered hair, loose clothing, minimal makeup), but really they are hypocrites who are sexually provoked at the sight of uncovered hair. They grow angry at their own lust, and so they release their anger on women who they think they own.
If there were to be a true representation of how women embody nature, it wouldn’t be the nymph. It would be through the Sierra Madre. A fierce and strong woman who is no stranger to sacrifice. The woman-mountain who stands up to the wicked storm in desperation, love, and the fight for life. The group of women, not an individual woman, for we are stronger when we link arms together. Sierra Madre, the mother without any biological children, a mother purely because of her sacrifice and care.
I see the spirit of Sierra Madre in all of the women protesting in Iran. I and others with me who are women environmental activists and defenders in the Philippines, are in solidarity with you. We thank you for your sacrifice, because you not only stand for Iranian women and their freedom, but for the freedom and sovereignty of women everywhere. We promise to take this same spirit of Sierra Madre and continue to protect our rivers, forests, and oceans. In desperation for life and freedom, we fight.
Further Resources
Sierra Madre, the Philippines’ Longest Mountain Range
Sierra Madre stands up to Karding, but needs protection vs the humans it saves
‘They Have Nothing to Lose: why young Iranians are rising up once again’
Vandana Shiva, Staying Alive: Women, Ecology, and Development
(The rest of the sources I drew on for inspiration and information for this piece are linked throughout the piece).