Women’s Month celebrations often remind us of the extraordinary achievements of women who changed history. But empowerment does not always begin in grand moments. More often, it grows from lived experiences. These are the stories we witness, the people we meet, and the realities that slowly shape our sense of purpose.
Recently, I had the opportunity to spend time with the Junior and Senior High School teachers of Domingo Lacson National High School in Bacolod City during their Women’s Month celebration. The theme of the gathering, “Empowered Voices: Women Rising with Strength and Purpose,” was both inspiring and deeply reflective. It invited us to think about how women discover their voices and how those voices can be used to serve others.
For me, that journey began in media.
I started working in media in 1997, at a time when I was still discovering what journalism truly meant. Three years later, in 2000, I began teaching part-time. At the time, I did not realize these two paths — journalism and education —- would eventually intersect in ways that would shape how I see the world and how I understand the responsibility that comes with having a voice.
When I delivered my keynote message at DLNHS, I had prepared my notes carefully, mindful of the time and the audience. But something interesting happened as the talk unfolded. Like many meaningful conversations, the speech did not strictly follow the script.
We took a few detours. I was at my most authentic self, as what I always choose to be whenever I am asked to talk to an audience.
And those detours, perhaps, were the most fun and meaningful parts of the conversation.
I shared stories from my years as a television anchor and field reporter — experiences that allowed me to see society from perspectives that many people rarely encounter directly. Journalism has a way of bringing you face to face with both the admirable and the troubling realities of life.
In the course of those years in media, I met people from every imaginable walk of life. There were moments that were unexpectedly funny, like interviews where microphones malfunctioned at the most inconvenient moments or cameras not working, or when nervous interviewees suddenly forgot what they wanted to say once the camera started rolling. Those moments reminded me that behind every serious story are human beings simply trying to be heard.
But there were also stories that revealed harsher truths.
At one point during the talk, our conversation touched on the persistent issue of corruption in government, particularly the flood control mess and convicted corrupt officials getting re-elected election after election. These are something journalists inevitably encounter when covering public affairs. We briefly discussed the now-familiar phrase “ghost projects”
At one point during the talk, our conversation touched on the persistent issue of corruption in government—something journalists inevitably encounter when covering public affairs. We briefly discussed the now-familiar phrase “ghost projects,” particularly those flood control initiatives that exist on paper but somehow fail to materialize where communities need them most.
These are not merely headlines or abstract policy discussions. For journalists in the field, such stories represent real consequences for communities – families whose homes are flooded, neighborhoods that remain vulnerable, and citizens who continue to hope that public resources will be used responsibly.
Talking about these realities in a room full of educators and mostly women, felt both candid and natural. Perhaps it was because I was among kindred spirits.
Looking around the room, I saw fellow teachers — women who, like me, believe deeply in the power of education to shape the future. There is a certain comfort that comes from speaking to people who share the same calling. Educators understand that our work goes beyond delivering lessons; it involves shaping how young people think about the world, about fairness, and about their roles as citizens.
In that room, I felt an invisible connection, a quiet but powerful tie that binds many women together. It is a shared sense of purpose and passion: the desire to contribute meaningfully to society and to help others find their own voices.
That sense of connection made the conversation feel less like a formal keynote speech and more like a collective reflection.
We talked about how experiences shape perspective. For me, the years spent covering stories across communities —- seeing resilience in the face of hardship and witnessing the impact of social issues firsthand —- opened my eyes to the deeper realities of our society. Those experiences did more than build a career; they shaped the kind of woman I have become and clarified how I choose to use my voice and my agency.
Empowerment, after all, is not only about speaking. It is about choosing what we speak for.
For women, especially educators, this means recognizing that our voices carry influence. Every classroom discussion about civic responsibility, every encouragement given to a hesitant student, and every lesson that invites young people to think critically about society contributes to shaping a more informed and compassionate generation.
The detours we took during that Women’s Month conversation were reminders that empowerment is rarely a straight path. It is formed through experiences, reflections, and sometimes unexpected conversations that reveal what truly matters.
As the discussion came to a close, I was reminded that empowered voices are not only those heard in newsrooms, conferences, or public forums. Many of them exist quietly in classrooms —- in teachers who encourage curiosity, in students who learn to ask questions, and in communities where women continue to rise with strength and purpose.
When women share stories honestly and use their voices with intention, they help create a ripple effect of awareness, courage, and hope that extends far beyond the walls of any single gathering.
Cheers to all the women who dare to speak, to stand, and to shape the world — one courageous voice at a time.*
