I joined the second Trillion Peso March last 30 November at the People Power Monument, and let me tell you, nothing prepares you for the sound of thousands of Filipinos shouting in unison, “Ikulong ang mga kurakot.” 

This wasn’t just anger for anger’s sake, but clarity coming from a firm sense of purpose. A collective refusal to let this latest wave of corruption revelations simply dissolve into the fog of politics as usual.

All over the country, more than 90,000 Filipinos took time out of their Sunday to make themselves heard. In a country where people often spend weekends catching up on rest, errands and family time, that alone says something. These weren’t people who just wanted to attend another rally; these were citizens who had reached their breaking point.

Talking to the people around me — students, young professionals, retirees, families with kids, even a few who admitted this was their very first protest — one thing was unmistakable. This wasn’t about ousting Bongbong Marcos to install Sara Duterte. In fact, most people I spoke to reacted almost viscerally to the suggestion. The consensus was practically unanimous: a Sara Duterte presidency would not solve the corruption problem. It would make it worse.

And, honestly, can you blame them? Look at her track record. Her impeachment case was partly anchored on corruption allegations. Under her watch, both the OVP and the DepEd were linked to anomalous transactions. And in recent weeks, a parade of officials facing corruption issues — Chiz Escudero, Joel Villanueva, Jinggoy Estrada and yes, even her former nemesis Zaldy Co — had suddenly migrated to her camp. When people see that kind of company, “anti-corruption” is not the first thought that comes to mind.

But that doesn’t mean Marcos Jr. gets a pass. Far from it. The people at the Trillion Peso March made it likewise crystal clear: the President must deliver. He must ensure a credible, sweeping investigation that will result in actual cases and, eventually, real convictions. No sacred cows. No political shielding. No protecting those close to him while going through the motions of fighting corruption.

And the warning was equally clear. Any hint that he might be dragging his feet or playing favorites will be met with swift reproach. Filipinos have shown they can mobilize tens of thousands with very little prompting. Marcos has two and a half years left to prove this moment will lead to concrete reforms. If he fails, history will not be kind.

And yet, amid the rain, the placards, the chants and the drumbeat of righteous frustration, I felt something I hadn’t felt in a long time at a political gathering: hope.

Not naive hope. Not blind optimism. But that kind of grounded, shoulder-to-shoulder hope that grows when thousands of strangers stand together demanding something better. Hope that maybe, just maybe, 2028 will give us choices beyond the dynasties that have failed us. That maybe this anger will translate into votes, reform, and a future not defined by the same names and the same betrayals.

As I walked away from the rally, rain pelting down from a stubborn grey sky, I noticed I wasn’t just trudging along. I was walking with a spring in my step. Because for the first time in a long while the outrage felt matched by resolve — and that resolve by hope in a brighter, better day for the Philippines.

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