Public Safety and Self-Sacrifice: A Life during the Time of President Duterte

 

By Christine Joyce Gallinero 

It was 2016. I was 17 years old, a second-year college student trying to navigate life’s challenges with an empty pocket but a heart full of dreams. School was not just about learning—it was about 𝘀𝘂𝗿𝘃𝗶𝘃𝗶𝗻𝗴. We had just transferred from General Santos to Davao after my father passed away, leaving behind only memories and the weight of responsibility on my young shoulders.

Our days revolved around waiting for opportunities. We depended on my titos and titas abroad for financial support since my mother had no stable job at that time, but we knew it was never guaranteed. My sister, the person I love most in the world, was still in high school, and like me, she also needed money for her studies.

To stay afloat, 𝗜 𝗯𝗲𝗰𝗮𝗺𝗲 𝗮 𝗴𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗮𝗿, grateful for the assistance, yet it was never enough. 𝗠𝗼𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 𝘄𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘄𝗼𝗿𝗸 (𝟴 𝗔𝗠 – 𝟭𝟮 𝗣𝗠), 𝗮𝗳𝘁𝗲𝗿𝗻𝗼𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 (𝟭 𝗣𝗠 – 𝟲 𝗣𝗠). Tuition, exams, and daily expenses constantly haunted me. I could see the worry in my mother’s eyes whenever I asked for money, knowing she had none to give.

Then, I turned 18. And I made a choice.

I was desperate for a change, and that’s when I found multi-level marketing. It was risky. It demanded my full time, my full energy, my full sacrifice. I made a painful decision—𝘁𝗼 𝗱𝗿𝗼𝗽 𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗼𝗼𝗹 and dedicate myself to the business.

My life shifted into overdrive. 𝗜 𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘃𝗲𝗹𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗰𝗿𝗼𝘀𝘀 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗣𝗵𝗶𝗹𝗶𝗽𝗽𝗶𝗻𝗲𝘀—Luzon, Visayas, Mindanao—meeting people, attending seminars, creating network. Late nights blurred into early mornings. 𝟮 𝗔𝗠, 𝟯 𝗔𝗠, 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝘁𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝗼𝘂𝘁𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲. Sleepless, exhausted, but determined.

But here’s the thing: I never once felt 𝗮𝗳𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗱.

I would walk alone in the middle of the night, deep in thought, planning my next steps, knowing 𝗜 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝘀𝗮𝗳𝗲.

Because at that time, 𝗼𝘂𝗿 𝗽𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗶𝗱𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝘀 𝗥𝗼𝗱𝗿𝗶𝗴𝗼 𝗥𝗼𝗮 𝗗𝘂𝘁𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗲.

Crime rates dropped. Drug addicts were no longer a constant threat. I could focus on chasing my dreams without fear. In a time when many young women feared walking home late, I moved freely, confidently.

For six years, I built my business. I earned recognitions: 𝗧𝗼𝗽 𝗦𝗲𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗿, 𝗖𝗮𝗿 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯, 𝗠𝗶𝗹𝗹𝗶𝗼𝗻𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗲’𝘀 𝗖𝗹𝘂𝗯 𝗮𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗱𝗲𝗲. I saved money—not just for myself, but for my family.

And when the time came, I fulfilled a promise.

With my earnings, I put my sister through college. It was no longer about struggling for tuition—it was about giving her the future she deserved. And once she graduated, I finally did something for myself.

I returned to school.

This time, 𝗜 𝗽𝗮𝗶𝗱 𝗺𝘆 𝗲𝗻𝘁𝗶𝗿𝗲 𝗰𝗼𝗹𝗹𝗲𝗴𝗲 𝗲𝗱𝘂𝗰𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗶𝗻 𝗳𝘂𝗹𝗹. No more stress over exams, no more sleepless nights worrying about fees. I could finally focus on my passion—journalism.

Now, as I move closer to graduation, I look back and realize: 𝗜 𝗼𝘄𝗲 𝘀𝗼 𝗺𝘂𝗰𝗵 𝘁𝗼 𝗙𝗣𝗥𝗥𝗗.

Without the security he provided, I wouldn’t have worked those late hours, traveled alone, or built a life for my family. Because of him, I was able to 𝘀𝘂𝗰𝗰𝗲𝗲𝗱 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵𝗼𝘂𝘁 𝗳𝗲𝗮𝗿.

Yet today, it saddens me. The same man who once ensured our safety is now 𝗱𝗶𝘀𝗿𝗲𝘀𝗽𝗲𝗰𝘁𝗲𝗱 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗰𝗿𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗰𝗶𝘇𝗲𝗱, 𝗻𝗼 𝗹𝗼𝗻𝗴𝗲𝗿 𝗴𝗶𝘃𝗲𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗲𝗰𝗼𝗴𝗻𝗶𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝘁𝗿𝗲𝗮𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝗵𝗲 𝗱𝗲𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲𝘀 𝗯𝘆 𝘁𝗼𝗱𝗮𝘆’𝘀 𝗮𝗱𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗶𝘀𝘁𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝗼𝗻.

I may never meet him, but in my heart, I will always be grateful.

One day, when I finally stand before the camera as a 𝗻𝗲𝘄𝘀𝗰𝗮𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗿, I will carry with me more than just a microphone—I will carry the lessons of a presidency that shaped my journey. 𝗜 𝘄𝗶𝗹𝗹 𝘁𝗲𝗹𝗹 𝘀𝘁𝗼𝗿𝗶𝗲𝘀 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝘁𝗿𝘂𝘁𝗵, 𝘀𝗲𝗿𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗽𝗲𝗼𝗽𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗶𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗴𝗿𝗶𝘁𝘆, 𝗮𝗻𝗱 𝗿𝗲𝗺𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘀𝘁𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗳𝗮𝘀𝘁 𝗶𝗻 𝗺𝘆 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗺𝗶𝘁𝗺𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘁𝗼 𝗳𝗮𝗶𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘀𝘀.

With every report I deliver and every truth I uncover, I will remember the man who made it possible for me to chase my dreams.

Because of him, I walked without fear, I worked without limits, and I dreamed without hesitation. And as I step into the future, I carry with me not just success, 𝗯𝘂𝘁 𝗴𝗿𝗮𝘁𝗶𝘁𝘂𝗱𝗲—𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗮 𝗹𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿 𝘄𝗵𝗼 𝗺𝗮𝗱𝗲 𝗺𝘆 𝗷𝗼𝘂𝗿𝗻𝗲𝘆 𝗽𝗼𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗯𝗹𝗲.

- Christine Gallinero is a MassCom student at Ateneo de Davao University