There are two things most constant in my life: one, my mother; two, writing. For as long as I can remember, I have always wanted to be a writer. At the beginning, I wanted to save the world—such strong idealism from someone who hasn’t even been outside her own box. But as events passed me by, I realized the world does not need saving because in truth, we have long punished ourselves to perdition. And the only thing I can do as a journalist, is to provide some semblance of truth in a society besieged by lies.
Journalism is not far the most decent work in the planet. We have our own weaknesses and own demons to fight… or sometimes, to protect. Realists, like few people that I know, have turned their backs on writing and instead, worked for big conglomerates. But the passion for writing, of wanting to spread a little of the truth that you know, would from time to time envelop them.
I have my own beliefs to swallow, ideals I have watched being trampled on. It is not always easy to be a journalist. There are lots of stories to tell but without proper citations, without proper sources, those stories will never meet print nor will the public ever know how lies can be served to them in a silver platter.
That is ultimately the curse of a job like ours–the truth is staring you right in your eyes but the pen cannot move. And only through stories shared with a few closed ones can you divulge what really happened, how it happened… how morally corrupt and how devilish some officials are.
People don’t always see the good in what we do. Most of the time, they see the bad and the ugly… the insignificance of our roles in society. But that is their choice. What we do, who we are and how essential media is will hopefully in the future come into play.
But for now, let me tell you this: stories of corruption and those that eventually cripples the very society we are in cannot reach the common balut and fishball vendor if not without the media. And the truth is, I don’t care whether or not high-profile personalities read what I write. Those whose interests are directly hit should be the ones to know how people like Gloria Arroyo, Mike Defensor, Raul Gonzalez, Prospero Nograles and so many more lavishes in million-worths of homes and luxury cars. Those families who were left by activists like Jonas Burgos should know who were responsible for the soulless crimes committed against their loved ones.
Why the hell do you think we are called the fourth estate? Or why media is globally recognized as a new war tool? Because we give voice to those who cannot speak and we give sight to those who do not have the power nor the will to see how the people they elected have turned their backs to them.
My work is so much more than writing words, conjuring phrases and creating paragraphs to form a story people would scoffed at to. It is a form of justice in this otherwise justice-ridden government.
