As a Filipino who spent his formative years in the motherland, I can say we are a cautious people — sometimes, to a fault. You can see it in small habits: a parent clutching their child's hand tightly on the street, or the way we instinctively lock doors behind us, even in broad daylight. We are raised to protect ourselves, to avoid unnecessary risks.
That instinct, however, was not enough to shield us from the tragedy that unfolded during Vancouver’s Lapu-Lapu Day celebration.
It is with a heavy heart that I learned of the senseless attack that claimed eleven lives and left many more injured. It is hard to fathom how a single vehicle could wreak so much havoc, not just on Filipino-Canadians, but on Canadians of every background who had come together to celebrate our culture. To those who lived in the Philippines at the time, this tragedy was as devastating as the Glorietta Mall Bombing or the Wowowee Stampede.
As we mourn, two questions dominate the conversation: Why did this happen? How could it have been prevented?
I would like to offer a third: How can we rise above it?
How can we rise above the palpable fear has taken root? If a large, joyful event like Lapu-Lapu Day isn’t safe, where can we find safety? I understand that fear is human nature allowing us to protect ourselves. But I am calling for us not to succumb to it.
Everyone carries this fear, but equally everyone carries pride. Inside each of us is a capacity for resilience. And time and time again, Filipinos — like so many communities — have proven that even in our darkest moments, we can rise.
Let’s be brave for our fellow kababayans. Let’s not allow fear to dictate how we carry ourselves as a people. The tragedy brought the world’s attention to us and how we respond will help shape our identity in the home we found in Canada.
I spoke with the Filipino Community Association of Cochrane, Alberta — an organization hundreds of kilometres away from Vancouver — and yet they’re ready to help out like the victims were just their next-door neighbour. That is the spirit of bayanihan, the Filipino tradition of community, of neighbours coming together to lift each other's burdens. Even Mark Carney pointed to bayanihan as a strength that defines us.
No gesture can erase the pain of lives lost too soon. But by showing up, by standing together, we can honour their memory. We can refuse to let fear define us.
We are Filipinos. We know how to lock our doors — but more importantly, we know how to open our hearts.
