If I’m being honest, I just need to let this out.
I’m tired — tired of how those in authority treat us, especially vendors from the lower middle class and poor communities. It feels like every day, we’re treated like criminals — high-priority threats, as if we’re doing something evil just by trying to survive.
Yes, the image of the city is at stake, I get it. A clean road, smooth traffic — that’s ideal. But try comparing that to the unpaid bills, the mounting debts, the constant struggle of daily needs. We live by isang kahig, isang tuka — and for that, we’re branded as undisciplined, chaotic, even dangerous?
What do you want us to do? Wait around for ayuda while starving? Those of us who choose to work honestly — without hurting anyone, just causing some minor inconvenience — are treated like we’re the enemy. Is that really worth it?
Sure, you’ll say: “Eh paano kung may emergency tapos barado daan dahil sa vendors?” And that’s a fair concern. But then what? Remove us like pests without any support or alternative? How is that just?
“Disiplinang walang diploma, nganga talaga.” Not everyone has the privilege of education, or a grand dream to chase. Some just want to survive today. We’re not aiming to be billionaires. We just want to move forward — even at a turtle’s pace — because every step counts. But lately, it doesn’t feel like we’re moving forward at all. It feels like we’re being pushed further back.
This isn’t just a temporary thing. A few days without sales already means skipped meals, overdue bills. And what are we supposed to do — turn to crime instead? Is that what you want?
Honestly, I do understand the appeal of a clean, spacious city. It looks good. But that image — that version of the city — often belongs only to those who aren’t directly affected by the so-called “beautification.” Those people may speak proudly through the media, praising order and discipline. But their take on the situation is always split.
One side looks at us and says, “Kasalanan niyo 'yan. Dapat kasi nag-aral kayo. Dapat ginalingan niyo sa buhay.” The other side sees the injustice and says, “Oo nga, kawawa ang mga vendors.” But too often, the first voice is louder.
People like us — small vendors, blue-collar workers earning ₱250–₱400 a day, lucky to afford even a small luxury once a month (if at all) — we’re the ones ignored. And because big media relies on big sponsors, the voice of the poor rarely becomes the story. Even when poverty is the topic, it’s treated like a spectacle — not a call for justice.
So again, what is our worth? Who are we in this city? Just background noise?
Sometimes it feels like we’re birds in golden cages. The city shines, but the people inside are suffocating. What good is a beautiful city if it’s not useful to everyone? If it’s built on fear?
What I hate most is that this “discipline” doesn’t even feel like discipline anymore. It feels like control. Every time I hear a police siren, I tense up. I’m not a criminal. I don’t hurt people. But somehow, I feel like a fugitive. Like I’m guilty of something I didn’t do.
That’s not respect anymore. That’s fear.
One time, when authorities came through to “discipline” us again, a wild thought crossed my mind — What if war breaks out? What if I see these arrogant officers panicking for once? I even thought, Maybe I’d help the other side, just to finally feel some payback.
Of course, I’d never actually do that. I’m just a simple vendor. A civilian. What can I do but obey? What else can I do?
But those thoughts — they come from somewhere. They come from constantly being cornered, punished, and unheard. From living under the weight of policies that were never made for people like us.
This is just my point of view. A glimpse from where I stand. I wish others could see it too.
But no — all we get told is: “Sumunod na lang. Disiplina muna.”
Putangina naman.
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