Writing, I always say, is like giving birth. You wrench something out of you, tenderly and torturously, not unlike how Frankenstein created his monster. Your writing is released into the world in all its glory and horror, and humanity grapples with it–finds love and connection in it.
To this day, I still remember the first article I wrote for The LaSallian as a features writer in 2018: it was about street theater. I remember nervously venturing out into the city to talk to my interviewees and see their craft firsthand. The thrill in my bones was one that I would not get enough of for a lifetime. Writing became my way of expressing my principles, of challenging myself, of challenging the world, even. I remember going home from that interview, my heart bursting and my mind racing, eager to put pen into paper. And of course, I also remember my first (of very many) revision from my editor. The storyboard pitches, the rewrites, the late nights, the shameless reaching out to interviewees (that led me to colorful run-ins with people ranging from Mike Enriquez to a resident Mandaluyong faith healer), it was all one big adventure.
When the pandemic hit, it felt like I was only just beginning my life–carving out an identity not just as a person, but also as a writer–and then it all came to a screeching halt. Day after day, you are subjected to sheer despair–thousands of facets of grief staring back at you through the glow of the phone screen. It would have been so easy to give in to the numbness and simply disappear. The Earth had stood still and what would it matter if I also stood still with it?
Writing, as it turns out, was not finished with me. As inconceivable as it was, campus journalism went on. It was during this period that I assumed the position of Menagerie Editor in late 2020. Mostly because I felt like at the time that continuing writing was the only way I have to stay connected to the world.
And so we soldiered on. In the Menagerie, we found ways to have a pulse on the sociopolitical landscape amid the pandemic. We covered the stories of displaced workers and frontliners, we amplified calls against police brutality, militarization, and mounting unjust arrests under the Duterte administration, and we featured fearless voices and incisive perspectives–all through Zoom calls, emails, and the brevity of a hilarious Telegram group chat.
We were also witnessing how art was changing with the times. The Virgin LabFest and the Metro Manila Film Festival both released virtual iterations that year, making our coverage experience wholly different. Metro Manila Pride was also held virtually that year–a feat that in no way diminished its spirit and impact.
At the heart of it all was the community I had found within The LaSallian. It wasn’t all work, but it was a culture of support and care in a very isolating year. Many of the friends I worked with during that time, I had never met in person before and yet were constant companions. Quite simply, writing became my lifeline.
Almost half a decade later, one does not really dwell on the past, for some reason or another. Writing this piece, however, gave me a unique opportunity to look back. My fellow editors and I have all gone down different paths since then, but I think we may all agree that the writing we did that year–the purity of its advocacy—is scored in our hearts.
As editor, I often quoted the College Editors Guild of the Philippines’ famous tagline: “To write is already to choose” to remind my staffers that our writing must always have teeth. I find that it’s still true now. I am beyond proud to be part of an institution that has been dauntless in standing with the truth, especially during one of the darkest years in recent memory. It was the year the Earth stood still–but we didn’t.
EDITOR’S NOTE:
This is an unedited submission from a former section editor of The LaSallian, reflecting on a pivotal story from their tenure. The article examines the impact of that narrative on campus culture and student life, highlighting the publication’s role in shaping community discourse.
Glenielle Geraldo Nanglihan served as the Menagerie Editor of The LaSallian for A.Y. 2020-2021. She first joined the publication as a staffer in 2018.
She graduated from De La Salle University with a degree in International Studies – Major in European Studies.
She went on to become a freelance writer, editor, and project manager.
She is now currently a Client Success Manager for Castillo PR & Research Associates. Most importantly, she is a mom to seven cats and three dogs.
