The Day EDSA Turned White

(SPOT.ph) The view from the flyovers told the story best. Crowds in white filled every level of EDSA—on footbridges, along the service roads, even spilling onto the flyovers itself. From above, the movement looked endless, stretching toward the People Power Monument where thousands gathered for the Trillion Peso March (TPM) on September 21.

Corruption had long been an open secret in the Philippines, but the past few weeks made it impossible to ignore. Wads of bills laid out on tables, damning text messages between officials, and the long list of alleged players were too much to bear this time. Nearly 10,000 projects flagged by government auditors, P500 billion in irregular spending, and claims that P1.9 trillion had been wasted over the past 15 years all pushed people to the streets. EDSA became the symbol of a collective frustration.

But on the ground, that anger translated into solidarity. Placards showed up from every political corner but the focus stayed on corruption. Strangers stepped aside to let others through, no shoving or pushing despite the sheer crush of people. For once, after years of bitter divides—DDS, Pinklawans, BBM loyalists—everyone was moving together for the same thing.

“Ikulong na yan, mga kurakot!”

“Ang tao, ang bayan, ngayon ay lumalaban!”

“Serbisyo sa tao, huwag gawing negosyo!"

There were a few who didn't get the message. At one point, Duterte supporters tried to hang a political poster in support of the former president on the flyover facing Robinsons Galleria, only to be shooed away by the protesters below.

Also read: What You Need to Know About the September 21 Protests in Metro Manila

The day started earlier at Luneta, under searing heat. By the time protesters converged at EDSA in the afternoon, the skies had darkened. When rain did fall, it would only last for a couple of minutes, bringing with it cooler air, as if sparing the crowd from the worst of the heat. Even when it did pour, it did little to thin the multitude.

Early estimates by TPM Convenor Kiko Aquino Dee put the crowd count between 60,000 and 70,000. The old, the young, the rich, the poor—everyone was tired of being stolen from. Even if you came alone, you wouldn’t feel out of place. Some made sacrifices just to take part—a friend of mine even slipped out from work just to be there. Of course, not everyone had the same luxury. On my way to the venue, my Grab driver asked if I was headed to the protest. He said he wished he could go himself, but he couldn't afford to miss a day's work. He'll have to settle for cheering while tuned into his car TV instead.

At Robinsons Galleria, queues formed inside National Book Store—not to snag school supplies but Philippine flags to wave in solidarity.

A few even passed around bottled water, hamburgers, Mentos, even homemade cookies for anyone to enjoy. Vehicles caught in the gridlock became part of the demonstration, horns blaring, placards raised through half-open windows. The whole thing was somehow festive and furious at the same time. If the 1986 EDSA People Power Revolution once inspired peaceful movements all around the world, here was its spirit returning home.

Ben&Ben took the stage at the People Power Monument with a performance of Kapangyarihan, a song long associated with calls for accountability, before the program shifted to speeches from political figures. But it was Vice Ganda who delivered one of the sharpest lines of the day—and we aren't just referring to her strings of "p***ngina!" She even went as far as to call for the reinstatement of the death penalty for corrupt officials.

"Hinahamon ka namin, Pangulong Bongbong Marcos. Kung gusto mong magkaroon ng magandang legasiya ang pangalan mo, ipakulong mo lahat ng magnanakaw! Inaasahan ka namin hindi dahil sa idol ka namin dahil sinuswelduhan ka namin at inaasahan ka namin na tutuparin ang inuutos naming mga employer mo. Kami ang nagpapasahod sa inyo. Tapos na ang panahon na takot na tayo sa gobyerno!" Vice Ganda shouted to the crowd.

Over at the EDSA Shrine, there was a much calmer atmosphere. There was no formal stage in the area but the music carried the crowd. Gloc-9’s Upuan blasted through the speakers, the line “Kayo po na nakaupo, subukan niyo namang tumayo” shouted back by protesters with raised fists. Then came Magkaisa—the 1986 anthem by Virna Lisa, written by Tito Sotto. Its chorus swelled over EDSA just as it had during the People Power Revolution nearly 40 years ago. Tears were shed.

Not all appearances were welcomed, though. Protesters booed Luis “Chavit” Singson, the former Ilocos Sur governor, as he walked along White Plains Avenue. Just two days earlier, he had criticized the government’s flood-control investigations—but reports noted his own family’s construction firms were long active in Ilocos Sur.

Yet for all the noise, there was no chaos. Even when tensions flared between pro- and anti-Duterte groups, the exchanges never boiled over into anything more serious (see this diva fighting off a pro-Duterte by ragebaiting him). Protesters on both sides knew when to pull back. The march pressed on.

EDSA, or at least the stretch from People Power Monument to the National Shrine of Mary, turned white that day. The attire might have been meant to symbolize peace, but it also taught us something else: unity can be possible when there is an absence of color.

Also read: LOOK: Nearly 50,000 Turn Out for Luneta Protest Against Corruption