CAGAYAN DE ORO (MindaNews / 6 October) – On September 21, 2025, streets in the Philippines were filled with our voices as we awakened from our slumber. The “Baha sa Luneta” was seen by some as just a protest; however, if we were simply more open-minded or even opened our eyes more, it was not merely a protest. It was a powerful movement that transformed our collective frustration and annoyance into a call for accountability and change from the so-so responsible government. This gathering, being looked down upon and questioned, symbolized more than anger; it was unity, resilience, and our need and want for hope back.
The Trillion Peso March was a necessary explosion of passion against the neglect and betrayal that the higher-ups have caused. For years, we Filipinos have endured the oppressive weight of corruption, watching as the systems meant to protect us crumble under the greed of those in power. We watched and hoped they would change, our voices loud, but apparently not loud enough.
We complained so much, wanting change and a better environment, and when we finally decided we wanted it to get into the empty minds of those in power, we were seen as aggressive, acting as if we didn’t matter. That march served as a vivid reminder that we are tired of being used or thrown away in the trash for another useless political landscape dominated by self-serving elites. This was our moment to reclaim our voices that were once loud and proud of our country. Yet, some still think that all of this was for nothing—even when it means everything to most of us.
The anger fueling this protest was palpable and a hundred percent justified. Many of us have suffered in silence, our struggles dismissed by those in power, either blind or deaf or even both. But that silent suffering has morphed into a collective yell and scream of anger, a realization that our human spirit refuses to be silenced. Strangers from around the area joined hands, shouting in unison—not merely for the fun of it, but for a demand for a better future.
Some people may highlight incidents of violence or opportunism among the crowd, but actions like these should be expected from any corner of the world. Not everyone joins a movement just because it’s important; however, their voices were drowned out by the noise of the true-hearted. If anything, the ones using violence only proved a point, and the ones chasing clout only spread the message farther.
That march possessed a rare force and unity not often seen in protests—capturing the problems of the present while warning against the future. Even the negative parts, such as the harm and violence shown, as well as the mainstreamers, showed the effect of what has happened to our community: accepting everything as it is and not caring. That march wasn’t just about the past problems and harm; it was a march to stop future corruption.
It signals to those in power that we are watching and waiting, wanting and wallowing, that we will no longer sit idly as our rights are treated as if they never existed. The President, lawmakers, and judiciary must heed this call. Whether they see it as a threat or not, they need to snap out of their greed and finally do their jobs correctly instead of arguing amongst each other or simply doing nothing. Maybe they will pass on their greed to their children—we’ll never know the truth if we never do something. If we don’t get the truth from them or if we don’t gain their attention, we’ll never be the same community that we were once so proud of, yelling in joy when we were number one.
The true tragedy lies not in the march itself, but in the government that necessitated it. The Trillion Peso March was born from our desperate need for change. It served as a wake-up call: that the time for complacency is over. We will no longer be passive spectators; we will actively participate in shaping our own destiny.
In the end, the rally was not a symptom of a sick system; it was a powerful antidote of hope. It paved the way for a brighter tomorrow, where cries for justice will be met with action. The march was the first step toward judgment, a promise that we are ready to reclaim our rights. It stands as a testament to the strength of the Filipino spirit: unyielding, unwavering, and undeniably powerful.
(Hayli Roa Escabarte, a 14-year-old Grade 9 student at Nanuri International School in Cagayan de Oro, hails from Texas. She relocated to the Philippines three years ago to rediscover her roots. Her writings, rich with cultural insight, reflect her growth and deep ties to her Filipino heritage.)