We didn’t grow up as "sad beige babies", calm and collected were not words you would describe a typical Filipino household.
Every crook and corner was filled with dozens of knick-knacks. Old receipts and random magnets on our refrigerators, contrasting hues of fabrics and bazaar patterns.

Our walls are plastered with familial photographs and a Catholic themed tapestry in between.
Compared to foreign homes, with their white spaces, ours were filled with rustic tones of the Earth. Topsy-turvy in a way that was all too comforting.

When you step outside, you are greeted with the unpitched voices of 90s karaoke, flamboyantly painted jeepneys speeding by.

In celebrations we do not fall short either. From the bright colors of our parols, the varying flavors of our kakanins, and even infamous superstitions are constant reminders, of how our culture is intensely weaved.
In history books, the crimson bloodshed of our revolutionaries do not paint a pretty picture. Years of oppression weren’t minimalistic, and the scars of the past are not so aesthetically pleasing.

Today, Filipinos are continually burdened by the discomfort of unfortunately blinding systematic issues.
The truth is, Filipinos weren’t made to be bleak. We were meant to be passionate, uncompromising, and unyielding.

I only hope that we could translate this "loudness" into finally breaking free from the shackles of injustices.