Mirasol

By Franzine Aaliyah B. Hicana, Features Editor

In the halls of power, words matter. Yet recently, Filipino male lawmakers have made their disregard for women impossible to ignore; not in private whispers, but aloud over microphones in the very halls meant for governance. From Bong Suntay's jabs at Anne Curtis to incidents like Christian Sia's remark about single mothers and Robin Padilla's disturbing comments about women's supposed roles in the bedroom,  the real story isn’t just what was said, but also the ease with which it was delivered.

That comfort signals a troubling truth: in our politics, women can still be reduced to punchlines, and the men delivering them often face little consequence. 

Recently, Quezon City Representative Bong Suntay sparked a firestorm when, during a House Committee on Justice hearing on impeachment complaints against Vice President Sara Duterte, he veered off topic to recount a hypothetical scenario involving actress Anne Curtis. 

More troubling than the remark itself was how casually it was delivered in a forum meant for governance.

In a bid to argue that ‘imagination’ is not an impeachable offense, Suntay said he once saw Curtis, felt ‘desire’ and ‘heat,’ and imagined what could happen, all while insisting there was nothing ‘immoral’ or ‘sexual’ about his remarks. 

His words were immediately rebuked by lawmakers from both sides of the aisle, with female legislators calling them ‘sexist,’ ‘blatantly objectifying,’ and unbefitting of an official proceeding, especially at the start of National Women’s Month. Lawmakers moved to strike the comment from the hearing record, and several condemned the statement as diminishing the dignity of women. 

But beyond the immediate outrage lies a deeper problem. Sexism in politics often hides behind humor, hypotheticals, or claims of harmless intent. The defense is familiar: it was ‘just an example,’ ‘just a joke,’ or 'not meant that way.’

Intent, however, does not erase impact. Turning a woman’s desirability into a political analogy reduces her to an object rather than a person. When remarks like these are made in official proceedings, they normalize a culture where disrespect toward women is treated as trivial—allowing misogyny to pass as rhetoric.

Recent controversies involving public officials illustrate how misogynistic rhetoric continues to surface in Philippine politics, often dismissed as humor or framed as harmless commentary.

During a campaign rally last year, Pasig City congressional candidate Christian Ian Sia drew backlash after joking that single mothers who were lonely and still menstruating could sleep with him once a year, a remark widely condemned as crude and degrading. Rather than acknowledging the harm, Sia defended the statement as protecting ‘freedom of speech,’ shifting the conversation from women’s dignity to his right to speak.

Similarly, in a Senate hearing on gender-based online sexual abuse in 2024, Senator Robin Padilla delivered an emotional speech describing what he called ‘an in heat,’ portraying men’s sexual impulses as something society must understand. In a hearing meant to center victims of abuse, the framing instead risked normalizing the idea that men’s behavior is instinctive while women’s safety becomes conditional.

Though different in tone—one delivered as humor, the other as testimony—both moments reveal a similar pattern in political discourse: women’s experiences become secondary to narratives that excuse, trivialize, or redirect attention away from sexism. Seen together, they highlight a broader political culture where offensive remarks toward women are often defended, minimized, or quickly forgotten.

Moments like this do not exist in isolation. They are part of a larger political environment that has, over the years, grown increasingly tolerant of misogynistic language from those in power.

To understand why remarks like Suntay’s can surface so casually in official proceedings, one has to look back at how such rhetoric was normalized at the very highest level of government during the presidency of Rodrigo Duterte.

Over the course of his administration, Duterte repeatedly drew criticism for remarks widely seen as sexist or degrading toward women—from joking about sexual assault, to publicly commenting on women’s bodies, to dismissing women’s ability to lead. 

According to a timeline compiled by Rappler, these incidents were not rare slip-ups but recurring moments that shaped the tone of political discourse during his presidency.

Among the most infamous examples were his rape jokes during campaign speeches, his comments telling soldiers they could shoot female rebels “in the vagina,” and his repeated attacks on female critics and officials. 

Critics argued these remarks did more than provoke outrage—they helped normalize misogyny in spaces meant for professionalism. When the highest office turns women into the butt of jokes or objects of crude commentary, it legitimizes such behavior and signals that misogyny can coexist with power.

In that environment, remarks like Bong Suntay’s feel predictable, not shocking. They are treated as minor lapses rather than breaches of professionalism. This normalization is the real damage: when leaders show that belittling women carries little consequence, others learn there is no cost to doing the same.

Dismissing these incidents as isolated mistakes misses the point. They reflect a political culture comfortable with disrespect toward women, shaped over the years by leaders testing boundaries without accountability. Once standards slip, restoring them is harder than breaking them.

The common thread is not poor judgment but quiet confidence: the belief that such words can be spoken publicly, on record, in official proceedings, with minimal political cost.

At some point, the question stops being why politicians keep saying these things. The more uncomfortable question is why they keep getting away with it.

Because as long as humiliating women is politically survivable, the script will never really change. Another joke, another analogy, another explanation, and another man behind a microphone who knows he will likely keep his seat anyway.

The moment that changes is the moment the public decides that mocking women is not just offensive, it is disqualifying. Until then, the halls of power will keep amplifying the same old disrespect.

(Layout by Phoemella Jane Balderrama/FEU Advocate)