13/05/2026
๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ ๐๐๐๐๐๐๐ | ๐ฃ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐ฐ๐ฒ ๐ก๐ผ๐ ๐ช๐ฎ๐ฟ: ๐๐ถ๐๐๐ผ๐ฟ๐ ๐ฅ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ฎ๐๐ ๐๐๐๐ฒ๐น๐ณ
A single proclamation on September 21, 1972, more than fifty years ago, transformed the Philippines. Fear swiftly replaced freedom after martial law was imposed. Not because people felt protected, but because it was risky to speak up, the nation became quiet. Thousands went missing, were tortured, or were detained. Families were split up. Nevertheless, despite the dangers, students, journalists, and activists had the guts to speak up. There was more to that historical moment than a change in leadership. The wound it left behind still hurts. For those who lived through it, the memories remain. For the generations that followed, the silence became part of what they inherited.
Then September 21, 2025 came. Luneta was soaked in rain, but it was not just the storm that flooded the streets. It was the weight of frustration, grief, and anger. Thousands of Filipinos showed up, drenched and determined, to protest what they believed was the misuse of 1.9 trillion pesos in public funds meant for flood control. But this was not just about bad infrastructure. It was about broken trust. People did not come to complain. They came to be heard.
The signs they carried were not just slogans. They were raw, personal truths.
โI'm just a TAXPAYER STANDING in front of my GOVERNMENT asking it to be HONEST!โ
โPondo sa edukasyon, hindi sa korapsyon.โ
โDo not rob our future.โ
โHirap maging mahirap.โ
โWalang mali sa protesta, may protesta dahil may mali.โ
โGuro ako, hindi kurakot. Bakit mas mataas ang sahod ng magnanakaw?โ
โPara sa mga estudyanteng binabaha, hindi sa mga opisyal na naglalangoy sa luho.โ
Even a corgi named Maple joined the protest, wearing a sign that said, โNangangagat ng mga korap.โ people chuckled, snapped pictures, and posted them online. However, beneath the smiles lay a deeper reality. Even the dogs seemed tired of the lies. This was more than just a demonstration. Strangers standing side by side in this moment of collective remembrance bore the burden of a horrific history. It served as a reminder to everyone that the fight for justice never ends. Even when it is preferable to be quiet, it endures in every voice that chooses to speak. It continues, passed from one generation to the next. People are tired. Theyโre tired of being ignored, of being robbed, of being told to stay quiet.
But not everyone who showed up came with good intentions. According to reports, 72 people were arrested that day. Some were innocent, caught in the chaos near Mendiola. What many anticipated would be a peaceful rally was disrupted by others who came to provoke, fighting with police. That people who came to speak up ended up behind bars is heartbreaking. They came with hope, not harm. They came to be heard, not silenced. Itโs even more heartbreaking that some still believe protests are just noise, not change.
History, however, indicates differently. Gandhiโs Salt March helped India break free from colonial domination. Laws that protected Black Americans were the result of the American Civil Rights Movement. Eliminating a dictator was not the only goal of the 1986 EDSA Revolution. After being shoved down for so long, it was about people rising to their feet. The goal was to restore the dignity that had been taken away. It was about having the guts to talk when for years it had felt safer to keep quiet. Ordinary Filipinos choose hope over fear at that particular moment. Mothers, students, workers, priests, and nuns stood side by side, holding hands and holding hope. They didnโt have weapons. They had conviction. And in that moment, the country remembered what it meant to fight for something bigger than fear.
That kind of courage doesnโt belong to history alone. Even now, it endures. People all around the world are still taking to the streets to demand change, to be heard, and to be seen. " " and " " are two movements that have contributed to eliminating the taboo around racism, abuse, and inequality. They have empowered individuals to assert that they are important. Rallies like " " serve as a reminder that democracy is not limited to election seasons in the Philippines. It is something we all safeguard, something we battle for, and something we live with every day.
Protests are not perfect. They can be chaotic. They can be uncomfortable. Sometimes they are misunderstood. But they are also deeply human. They come from a place of hope, from the weight of frustration, and from a deep love for the country and the future it holds. When people gather to ask for something better, it isnโt just noise. Itโs a cry to be heard. Itโs a sign that people still care enough to speak. They are making history. Theyโre emotional. They can be dangerous. People donโt take to the streets just for the sake of it. They show up because they care. Because theyโre tired. Because they still believe things can change. These protests rise from hope, from the pain of being ignored, and from a deep love for the country and the generations still to come.
So when we look back at September 21, letโs remember both the silence of Martial Law and the voices that rose in Luneta. Letโs remember the teachers, the students, the workers, the pets, and the families who braved the rain to say, โWe deserve better.โ
Because protest is not just about the past. Itโs about the future weโre fighting for.
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Editorial by: Jennalyn F. Masipag
Cartoon by: Isabella Faith Tuplano
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๐๐ข๐ก๐ง๐๐๐ง ๐จ๐ฆ:
โ The Reed
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