THIS June 12, may I urge all Filipinos to see the Philippine flag as their common symbol. Break away from all the noise of “anong kulay ka. Kaninong Senate president ka, kaninong partido ka.”
At this moment, let the political chaos submerge. May this piece of cloth be raised against a bright morning sky. For others, it is a chapter in a history book, a reminder of 1898 and the declaration of independence in Kawit. But for many Filipino Muslims, especially those of us from Mindanao, Independence Day can feel like a conversation between two histories learning how to sit at the same table.
I grew up hearing stories of heroes.
Some were the names taught in schools — Rizal, Bonifacio, Mabini. Others lived in the stories of our elders in Lanao, Maguindanao, Basilan, Sulu and Tawi-Tawi. They spoke of communities that defended their lands, preserved their faith and carried their identity through centuries of change. Their names may not always appear in national textbooks, but their sacrifices are part of the same river that flows into the story of the Philippines.
Independence Day can be a reminder of the many struggles and histories yet untold.
It is not merely the celebration of freedom from colonial rule. It is also a reminder that freedom remains unfinished whenever any Filipino feels unseen.
The Philippines is an archipelago. Thousands of islands. Thousands of stories. I sometimes think of our nation as a woven mat. Every thread matters. Pull one out and the whole pattern weakens. Leave one thread unrecognized, and the design is never quite complete.
For generations, Muslim communities contributed to the defense, culture, commerce and identity of this country. Yet there were times when our stories occupied only the margins of the national narrative. There were decades when misunderstanding traveled faster than understanding. Stereotypes crossed bridges more easily than truth.
But history is not a prison. It is a teacher.
Today, we see encouraging signs of change. We see greater recognition of Muslim history in the schools. We see efforts to preserve cultural heritage. We see laws that recognize the rights of Indigenous peoples and Muslim Filipinos. We see the Bangsamoro peace process proving that dialogue can achieve what conflict never could.
The establishment of the Bangsamoro Autonomous Region in Muslim Mindanao was not simply a political milestone. It was a reminder that peace is possible when people choose to listen rather than lecture, to understand rather than assume.
Sen. Robinhood Padilla has filed Senate Bill 605, or the Philippine History as a Separate Subject Act, to restore Philippine History as a distinct and core subject in the high school curriculum. The subject was removed as a stand-alone course in 2014 under the K–12 curriculum.
As a Muslim woman, Independence Day also carries another meaning.
Freedom is being able to wear a hijab and still be seen first as a Filipino. Freedom is knowing that faith and patriotism are not opposites. Freedom is having daughters who can dream without having to explain their identity before they explain their ambitions.
It is the freedom to belong completely.
Not halfway.
Not conditionally.
Completely.
I often think of the Philippine flag itself. Blue. Red. White. Yellow.
Different colors. Different purposes. One flag.
No color is asked to surrender its identity so the flag can exist.
Together, they become something larger than themselves.
Perhaps that is the lesson of Independence Day.
A nation is strongest not when everyone becomes the same, but when every community knows it has a place in the story.
So, when the flag rises this June 12, I will celebrate not only the freedom won by our forebears but also the freedom we continue to build together — a freedom that welcomes Christians, Muslims, lumad, Indigenous peoples and every Filipino into the same national home.
Because the dream of independence was never simply about breaking chains.
It was about creating a country where every Filipino could stand upright, speak in their own voice, practice their faith in peace, and still say with pride:
This nation is mine, too.
