To be a Filipino these days is to live in a time of contradictions. We see progress on paper but dysfunction in practice. We say our fast GDP growth and huge FDIs reflect gains, yet collapsing bridges and unfinished railways tell a different story. We endure billion-peso flood control projects that control everything except floods.

The contradictions don’t end there. We work hard yet are paid low, are resilient yet tired of taking it as a compliment. We celebrate beauty pageants on stage while we struggle with poverty right in our homes. We build world-class talent only to watch it leave and prosper in greener pastures.

Being Filipino is learning to make sense of these contradictions. We are told that things are getting better, that things can be done. But we know this to be true only if you have the “right connections.” Fortunately, we are also learning to demand more accountability from our leaders, to fight corruption not only in government but also in our daily lives.

You see it in how the young are pushing back, mobilizing online, speaking out, refusing to just swallow the usual scripts. In them, we see the legacy of Rizal and Bonifacio. In their bones, they carry the tempered steel of survivors — descendants of the colonized, the catechized, and the revolutionized — now retooled with smartphones, the internet and a different platform.

Where once we wielded bolos, they now brandish hashtags. Where once we marched to the beat of wooden drums, they now scroll, swipe, and tweet in rage. And it is a range that is felt no matter where you are in the world.

Despite the chaos, our culture of joy and humor persists. Typhoons may destroy our homes, but the karaoke will still play. Political scandals may frustrate us, but memes will lighten the mood. We turn pain to laughter, tragedy to song and loss to renewed faith. Others may call it escapism. But we call it defiance.

To be Filipino today is to live in a nation still becoming. We are not perfect, but we are learning, evolving, and rediscovering what true nationhood means. The pandemic taught us who the real heroes are: nurses, teachers, delivery riders, people who show up even when the system doesn’t.

Now, the flood control scandal is showing us another side of the Filipino we never knew. A side that no longer stays silent. A side that understands love of country is not blind devotion, but the courage to demand better.

In the end, being Filipino these days means holding on to our values, our families, our faith, and our dreams. It means believing, despite everything, that the Philippines can still rise, that our children deserve better, and that every act of kindness, integrity, and courage contributes to that hope.

It may be late but it’s not too late. We may have fallen behind our ASEAN neighbors, but we are still in the race. And as long as we keep moving forward, there is still a path to progress.