Once, there was hope

ONE nation, one spirit, one permanent handprint.

Who would’ve known Ferdinand Marcos was like two sides of a coin – a president and a dictator? After all, he was once viewed to be a man of his word, strong-willed and befitting to be the next righteous leader. When he first held that microphone, appearing before Congress, people finally began to dream.

This could be hope.

Make history, he said. Well, this is history.

The desire for a better country with a progressing economy and social development soon died down.

What might have been and what has been, point to one end. Which is always present. The Marcoses’ hell is the nation’s hell.

The Marcos administration created unsteadiness and doubts in journalism, news reporting, and news casting, as the flow of information was plagued by fear due to threats and cases of those who ought to go against the Marcoses and unveil the truth to the world.

He created a false sense of development in poverty and wholeheartedly stated that the poor people of the Philippines were getting better but in reality, there was still a gap between both the rich and the poor. No equal protection clause, no social justice. Deprived of human rights.

Filipinos then spent a decade fighting for the downfall of the strongman. The Marcoses were cold, divine, puritanical, and harsh.

When the term martial law rolls out one’s tongue, it still reeks of sinister to this day due to past stigma.

Money that profited from the growing economy during his era, was used for his reckless personal use, resulting in wasted potential. The country was buried in debt and dead bodies during his reign.

Anyone could start again. Not through love, but through revenge. Through the fire, people were born again. Peace by vengeance brings the end.

His final blow, his greatest dread - was a woman.

From the People’s Power Revolution to the Pink Revolution.

“But she’s just a woman.”

Leni Robredo, 57, former Vice President, economist, and human rights lawyer – a threat to the Marcoses, an- nounced that she was running for the presidency in the 2022 national elections back in October 2021.

She’s a woman, not just a woman.

A woman who became the bridge between tangible realities, between the horizon and the trenches, between the futures envisioned, and the daily grind. Independent and influential who damned societal pressure.

A woman that raised others with her.

Men are scared of women who know the power, women who brim with intelligence, and women who can change the malevolence they normalized.

So, when she came with a torch in her hand when no light was present, They found hope.

A servant leader who gave the expectations of the Nation’s people and aspired for the country amidst the darkness. For once, they began to dream again.

Government funds were in good use during her term, and using these allotments in supporting projects despite the low budget she was given, she was still able to create results with it.

She represented organizations that supported children and women, promising transparent governance, and created a project that helped homeless families that were affected by storms, poverty, and the like.

She has a worthy track record and unblemished integrity. Her virtue of clean government is the standard.

There’s still hope. There’s still hope, “Please.”

It’s ironic that most of her supporters are minorities, and teens, yet, they’re the ones who understand. They’re the ones who showed practicality and maturity. But, since they’re not of legal age to vote, they stood with her as supporters.

Her downfall enraged many. She should have won. Even so, she couldn’t fight the sexist mindset of traditionalists, that women are weak and unfit for leadership. Machismo culture in the Philippines is here to stay. Just because Leni was a woman, she was looked down upon.

She was supposed to be the youth’s weapon against the restoration of the Marcos dynasty. The damage dealt with by this family was irreversible. His family cost families. The present still remains defiled. And now, they rule again. All that “fighting for rights’’ for nothing. Everything was back to black. This alone should teach the government and Filipinos to wisely choose the next President-to-be, a figure with a good sense of judgment, not a screwed-up, brilliant million-dollar man.

This serves as a lesson. To avoid another series of murders and carnages. To raise the Filipino flag and decline being silenced. To realize that they have a voice and should not be subjected to acceptance of abuse. To stop the internalized misogyny, because in fact, there’s still no gender equality.

The President is the nation’s servant, not the other way around. Never let someone turn tables for their own benefit. The People’s Power Revolution is a great example of fighting for equal rights and freedom. Never forget.

It’s evident that Filipinos take a long time to realize and take action.

Set a high standard and ideology for a better country. The Philippines’ potential is still in discovery and recovery.

It was part of the past, but now, it’s the future. Still in the future.

Because, even after years, after blood was shed, after his deadly regime, his son now sits on the throne that was once his.

And, just like that, second thoughts came pouring along with regrets, questioning if this man was deserving of such a title, especially coming from a family with savage roots.

His successor, BongBong Marcos has yet to show his part in the change and development of the country, the people are not seeing what they want to see, and he’s yet to prove himself to get the benefit of the doubt.

“Give him a chance.” this is not a gamble, there’s a future on the line. The man didn’t even finish college. It’s all negative.

As long as his bloodline rules, remnants of him sit again. The lineage continues.

When they were finally presented with a proficient leader, they declined. Do they truly want what’s good for the country?

The best man for the job is a woman. And she is that woman. She was.

The Philippines remains stagnant. They truly are one nation, one spirit. It’s ugly. It’s ugly to see red again. There was never even hope to begin with.

Neither ugly nor beautiful. I was average when it came to looks. That type of girl you’d see on the streets and pay no mind, soon buried down to memory lane, not even remembering that she was there, because she’s just another face. It was a hard pill to swallow. I didn’t want that. I wanted more. More, more, more than just to be called that one girl.

I yearned to be the missing puzzle piece of today’s beauty standard. My mirror was sculpted as a star, ‘a star for a star’.

I was no star.

I wasn’t bright, I didn’t try at school, was socially irrelevant, I was just there. Standing five feet one in one sock, dressed in disheveled girl-child getup, I continued to ask myself. “What do I do?”

To be acknowledged in this school, you had to be known. Either categorized as the pretty face, the academically excellent, or the influential presence. I desired it all, I needed all of those titles. Popularity is the harsh reality. Maybe, if I was in their shoes, I’d be tasting the treatment they were being fed everyday.

Don’t you know that a man being rich is like a girl being pretty? You might not marry a girl just because she’s pretty, but my goodness doesn’t it help? And if you had a daughter, wouldn’t you rather she didn’t marry a poor man?

I could still recall the same emotion I felt when I received that one comment, that I was gaining weight when I returned back from Christmas break. The dreadful grimace of clenched teeth, how my heart tightened, wishing that in a blink of an eye they’d laugh and say it was a joke. But no, that very moment was genuine. I was the joke.

I never got used to criticism about my body and my face. Who knew words cut deeper than the most prominent and sharpest knives?

It made me aware, and I looked at myself differently. I had always been looking at myself differently.

Maybe having a sweet tooth was my weakness.

So I starved myself. On good days, I’d be cutting off my food to little portions. On bad days, I will not eat. And everyday was a bad day. I didn’t pay much attention to it since I thought of it as a mere restriction, I didn’t even notice I was skin and bones in a span of six months- at the age of thirteen.

My mental health was no different. I was even more insecure, recovering is hard. I only had one mindset- if I gained weight again, I’d lose the standard of being considered attractive for being slim.

My menstrual cycle was late, I was always consumed by fatigue and my hair was thinning. I was diagnosed with anorexia. An ellipsis of a thousand thoughts drained my mind, not even taking notice towards his faint calls of worry and pity. I had to hear my father cry to make me come back to my senses that I was slowly killing myself.

I was in recovery.

I learned that beauty can get you anywhere. But true beauty is from within, which is rare. I wanted to be someone they didn’t want, to be someone they couldn’t have. The price I paid was almost losing myself— days were wasted. Days when I could’ve cherished myself. I’m back looking at my image through my mirror that was sculpted as a star.

I am the star. I am that one girland a special one.

The Graceans Editorial Board AY 2022-2023

Francesca Alexis Amor Luya (SHS) and Kristina Czarina Trinidad (JHS)

Associate Editors: King David Manghi, Erica Alexis Bolambao, and Louise Laurie Ligson

Managing Editors: Rianne Corpin, Georgie Dominguez, and Julia Sofia Castillo

Circulation Managers: Janna Althea Encarnacion, Lindsay Arellano, and Alyson Mata

Section editors and heads

News: Christine Althea Labandia

Features: Sheree Hannah Serrano

OpEd: Precious Jana Molleda

Science: Althesa Jennifer Tariga

Sports: King David Manghi and Julia Sofia Castillo

Chief Photojournalist: Xela Andrea Ehong

Chief Cartoonist: Radon Alimbon

Chief of reporters: Erika Frechel Mae Peña

Layout artist: Francesca Alexis Amor Luya

Radio Broadcasting team captain (English): Irene Arroyo

Radio Broadcasting team captain (Filipino): Rianne Corpin

TV Broadcasting team captain: Catherine Joy Esplana

Reporters: Fritzie Gello-ano, Athea Keisha Geocallo, Justin Cody Serrano, Mikaela Lorraine Weerakon, Tristan Jacob Roa, Jerick Dave Adoracion, Don Aaron Dave Ardenio, Kaitlin Joyce Dionisio, Janessa Joy Garcia, Vince Louie Zara, Luke Joaquin Raper, Vanna Chey Zarate, Emanuel Caindec, Marxialeen Andrea Marie Oida, Stephanie Sabado

School Paper Adviser: Mr. Michael Angelo Z. Jugado

Co-School Paper Adviser: Mr. Noli S. Alcoriza

Principal: Mrs. Waldy F. Canalita, MEM

Division Education Program Supervisor in Journalism (English): Mrs. Ma. Nimfa R. Gabertan