Power Of Words_Unlocked

When I was thirteen, the Philippines pulsed with a faint but growing desire for freedom under the suffocating grip of the Marcos regime. My world, once defined by childhood, now expanded to include an awareness of struggle and resistance. Hidden books by authors like Primitivo Mijares, Ricardo Manapat, and Raymond Bonner revealed truths the streets of Manila dared not speak. They illuminated my young mind, guiding me through the shadows of oppression toward a quest to reclaim my nation. Thirty-eight years after EDSA, echoes of that moment still ring—the clamor of voices demanding dignity and freedom. In the cycle of history, I now see power lost and won again. The Marcoses, once ousted, are back, their legacy a complex thread in the ever-evolving story of the Philippines. Imelda's deliberate absence from her son's campaign and simmering tensions with Rodrigo Duterte further complicate our current political landscape. What does the legacy of EDSA mean? Was it simply a moment of

I grew up in the shadow of the church, the heavy bells marking the passage of time. As an ex-seminarian, I believed no man should part in what God joined. Family meant a father and a mother, a unity I never knew. Raised without a traditional family, I was blessed with the warmth of my aunt's home. Now, with a daughter of my own, I face the paradox of my beliefs and the reality of life in the Philippines. Here, where divorce is a ghost, it haunts us. We are the last to hold out against it, a country clinging to an ideal while ignoring the cries of those trapped in unions that bring harm, not harmony. I understand the sanctity of marriage, the vows made before God. Yet, I've seen the other side—the need for a law that allows people to part, not on a whim, but with heavy hearts seeking peace. This is the story of that struggle, the balance between faith and the harsh truths of life. It is about finding a middle ground where the law respects both the sanctity of marriage and the we