By: Dr. Rodolfo John Ortiz Teope, PhD, EdD
It was one of those usual blessed, muggy afternoons when the news felt
heavier than the air itself. I was sitting in our rocking chair, nursing a cup of lukewarm tea that I had forgotten to sip while scrolling through my feed. And there she was
again—the so-called “Banyo Queen,” an OFW in Hong Kong, doing things in a public karaoke bar and enjoying the Andrew E song Banyo Queen that would make even
the boldest telenovela villain blush. Her video received more shares than the Senate’s press release regarding the impeachment case. In the comments section, people
were making jokes, debating morality, and tagging their friends. The laughter
was loud, but somewhere in it, I heard the silence of a distracted nation.
Behind the noise, another headline sat almost unnoticed: the
Senate had archived the impeachment case. Just like that—tabled, filed away,
out of sight. If you weren’t paying attention, you’d think the issue had been
resolved. But it hadn’t. In fact, the protests outside the gates of the Senate
told a different story: people with banners, people chanting under the
unforgiving sun, and people whose voices were being drowned out by a viral scandal.
Furthermore, there are other issues that were forgotten when this Banyo Queen Phenomenon instantly went viral on the internet: there is the questionable national budget insertion,
the flood control mess, the DPWH corruption, the West Philippine Sea, the ICC
detention of former president Rodrigo Duterte, and so on.
There was an odd absurdity to it all. On one hand, you had a
personal tragedy—a mother, a fellow Filipino, an OFW who once sent money home
for her children’s tuition, now the subject of worldwide ridicule. I couldn’t
laugh. How could I? Somewhere in the provinces, her college-aged children might
have been watching the same clip, their classmates whispering, their hearts
breaking. The affair wasn’t just a scandal. It was the public execution of a family’s
dignity.
Conversely, the political drama proceeded seamlessly. The Senate’s move to shelve the impeachment was a decision with
ripples across governance, accountability, and trust in institutions. But we
weren’t talking about it enough. We were too busy watching, replaying, and
arguing over the details of a bathroom door.
It hit me! Maybe this is precisely how corruption survives.
Not always through grand conspiracies, but through a simple shift of attention.
One minute we’re marching for transparency, the next we’re laughing over a
meme. By the time we look back, the decision’s been made, the records closed,
and the people in power have already moved on.
I thought of the protests, those ordinary citizens giving up
their day’s wage to be there. Farmers abandoned their tractors, students skipped classes, and mothers carried placards instead of groceries. And then I thought of the Banyo Queen’s children, possibly hiding from the
world. Both scenes, in their own way, were about family: one fighting for the
larger family called the nation, the other struggling to keep a smaller family
from crumbling under shame.
Somewhere between the comedy of a viral video and the drama
of a political letdown, I felt an ache. The family, our first school, our first
government, and our first community were under attack. She wasn't the only victim. The attack also targeted our own family. When we choose scandal over accountability and the nation ceases discussing ways to combat corruption, we become complicit in allowing the walls protecting our society to crumble.
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