Power in listening

I was born into a clan of voices – of artists and leaders, public servants, storytellers and dreamers. But despite the name, we lived within modest means, a middle-class clan that understood duty not as a choice, but as a given. I was the shy and quiet Hontiveros girl. So before I found the roar in my voice, I first learned to listen.

By listening, I understood that our family was facing hard times. As the firstborn child, I felt the weight of responsibility early on.

I was shy by nature but I stepped into the spotlight – not just to showcase my talent, but to help support our household. As a young singer and voice-over artist, I found lots of projects to help augment my allowance. In 1980, I auditioned for “The Sound of Music.” Years later, I auditioned for my place as a GMA anchor. Nothing was given to me – I had to earn it.

Simultaneously, my young voice joined movements for change, heeding the call whenever history demanded it. As a 12-year-old girl, I joined my first noise barrage from our backyard. At St. Scho, I organized a nuclear disarmament group. And at the Ateneo, one of the women in the student council, I marched to EDSA to help topple a dictator.

This realization – that it’s OK to raise my voice, to swim against the tide and to take up space – is what made me into the woman I am today.

After the People Power Revolution, I pursued my advocacies in journalism, grassroots organizing and then, public service. Quite far from my original dream of theater, but I listened, just as I had before, and I knew the universe had other plans for me.

Now, I am one of 24 legislators in the Senate of the Philippines. The “lone opposition,” they call me – as if one voice in a two-person minority is too hushed to even be heard. But I have never believed that strength is measured in volume alone.

And so, with my only committee, the committee on women, children, family relations and gender equality, I have fought, I have pushed and, in the past year alone, we have achieved so much.

The committee on women is a quiet, persistent and unyielding force. “The little Committee that could,” I have called it to my brilliant staff.

But our committee hearings were only a platform. What truly worked to dismantle pillars of abuse were the voices of the brave victim-survivors that rang out so loudly, the nation had no choice but to listen. Those who came forward against the cruelty of POGO establishments, whose courage shut them down nationwide. The women who refused to be silenced, who stood against the crimes of Alice Guo (Guo Hua Ping), Senyor Aguila and Pastor Apollo Quiboloy.

Still, we continue to listen because the fight is far from over. There are many stories still waiting to be told.

Women remain underrepresented in leadership. In the Senate alone, we are only seven in a chamber of 24. In fact, only two out of ten elected officials are women. Female leaders bring wisdom and resilience unique to our experiences and struggles. We need more of us, not less.

We can still do more to shield women and children from violence. We must refine the Anti-OSAEC Law and regulate surrogacy to prevent its exploitation.

We need stronger protections for women in the gig economy and informal sector. In the 20th Congress, I am committed to advancing bills like the Protektadong Online Workers, Entrepreneurs, Riders at Raketera (POWERR) Act and the Magna Carta for Women in the Informal Economy.

We continue to raise hell for justice and equality so that one day, when our daughters talk, they won’t need to shout to be heard.

Most of all, we need women to know how to listen to ourselves, to each other and even our communities.

Because one day, when the time is right, the universe will again call on our names.

By then, we must be ready to shake the world.