Choosing to Fly Solo

In addition to familistic, one other adjective used by sociologists to describe our culture is: pronatalist. 

It's the practice of encouraging people to have children. Perhaps this is the reason why, during family reunions to celebrate Christmas, the older members (aunties and grannies, in particular) of the clan ask the single ones:  

“When are you getting married? You’re not getting any younger.” 

“Why are you not married yet? You’re not at all ugly."  

“You’re now over 30, when will you stop flying solo? 

 (No matter how they phrase the nagging, they mean: get married before you age beyond child-bearing years.) 

To marry when one reaches age 30 is a pressure people inflict upon single ladies, as though it were a crime or a failure.   

“Solo Flght” (written by Francie Castaneda-Lacanilao and moi; published by OMF Lit) zooms into this pressure from the points of view of those who fly solo, by choice or by force of circumstance. 

Francie’s story, the jump-off point of the book, breaks the mold. She finally got happily married after a long solo flight. (Read the book and find out why the great Matchmaker orchestrated it all.) All the rest are unique and inspiring narratives of singlehood grace.     

It was a privilege for me to co-write about and reflect on them—even today, 11 years after the book was launched. 

(P.S. Times have changed. The number of people who have opted to stay single or childfree—at least in my circles—has increased exponentially. Several of my lady friends say that when old titas and lolas ask them why they are not married yet, or why they have no children, they shrug, "I choose to fly solo.")