Waterproof for Ber Months, Happy Christmas, We’re Still Resilient

I’ve been contemplating whether to publish this or not. Maybe it’s too bitter for December, too heavy for a season that’s supposed to be all lights, songs, and forced cheer. But then it rained again. And flooded again. And Christmas kept going anyway.

So here we are.

The Philippines enters the ber months already soaked. September to December feels less like a countdown to Christmas and more like a test of flotation. Floods creep into homes like they own the place. Typhoons arrive one after another, each with a name we’ll pretend to forget next year.

And we’re told the same thing, every single time:

Filipinos are resilient.

It’s said with pride, like a medal you didn’t ask for. Like something to aspire to. In school they even joke that college students are waterproof. As if wading through knee-deep floodwater on the way to class is a rite of passage. As if resilience is part of the curriculum.

Why do we have to be waterproof at all?

An hour after the jokes, classes get cancelled anyway. Signal Number 4. Winds howling. Trees snapping. Somewhere on social media, cows are flying and people are sharing it with laughing reactions, because disaster only counts when it becomes content.

Resilience has become our default. Not because we chose it, but because it’s what’s left when accountability is missing. Easier to praise endurance than to ask why we have to endure. But here’s the thing: Filipinos should not normalize resilience. Enduring floods, typhoons, overwork, and low pay should not be a badge of honor. It should be a call for systems to actually work.

At work, it’s the same story. Overworked, underpaid, deadlines that never end-Filipinos keep going. Adapt, smile, survive. Don’t rock the boat. Don’t demand change. Just resilience, repeat.

Still, Christmas arrives.

Even with wet floors and power interruptions, people decorate. Christmas lights blink against gray skies. Families gather for noche buena. And sometimes, for some reason, we’re supposed to be happy with a DTI 500 list forcing dignity down our throats. Hotdogs, spaghetti, maybe a small ham-celebrating poverty as if it’s a virtue. It’s ridiculous. But hey, government says it’s a win.

Small victories still exist. The free ham from local “Pamaskong Handog” giveaways? Actually hit different. I got two of those this weekend. Real joys. Reminders that some people are still trying.

And me? I’m on my 7th Simbang Gabi this year. Walking in rain, traffic, puddles, and yet here I am. Praying, singing, sweating through December storms. Because why not? That’s what we do.

There’s something undeniably Filipino about this. Joy squeezed out of scarcity. Celebration despite inconvenience. Smiling because not smiling feels heavier.

But let’s be honest: resilience shouldn’t be the goal.

It’s admirable, sure. But convenient. It allows broken systems to stay broken. It turns suffering into character building. It makes floods, typhoons, and low-paying jobs feel like normal. Like being Filipino means learning how to float.

We shouldn’t have to be this strong just to live normally.

Christmas should be about rest, not recovery. About coming home, not cleaning up. About joy, not proving once again that we survived another storm, another joke, another DTI 500.

Yet here we are. Celebrating anyway. Singing anyway. Eating whatever we can afford. Laughing through rain and wind and yet another “strongest storm of the year.”

At least I have my family. My friends, and former colleagues turned friends, still playing games online, still chatting, still marites-ing about everything under the sun. That’s enough.

Happy Christmas.

We’re still resilient-but we should never normalize resilience.