In March 2020, the National Capital Region of the Philippines entered a lockdown to curb the spread of Covid-19, which had infected 52 people in the country. Initially, the government planned for a 30-day lockdown, but sadly, a year and a half later, most cities and provinces in the country are still under lockdown.

In the Philippines, a lockdown means that all those classified as 'non-essential,' including daily wage workers, informal workers, and operators of single-unit public transport services (like jeepneys and tricycles), were unable to work or sustain their livelihoods. This encompassed 67% of the population. While the upper and middle class engaged in panic buying, daily wage earners were simply left in a state of panic. This resulted in the potential for millions of Filipinos to face starvation, as living hand-to-mouth leaves little room for savings.

The lockdown also mandated home quarantine, which would have been manageable if everyone had a decent home. However, approximately 25 million Filipinos are informal settlers, lacking proper housing. Picture a family of five enduring the lockdown day in and day out within the confines of a tiny, single-room dwelling. To compound matters, the President's threat of deadly consequences for lockdown violators only added to the fear, uncertainty, and anxiety experienced by many.

Mang Brandy, a street vendor known for selling "taho" in our village, used to be a regular presence in our lives. My family enjoyed his sweet treats. However, due to the lockdown, he was compelled to halt his sales. Kuya Jonald, a courier for a local shipping company, was a valuable service provider for my sister's small business. Sadly, he had to stop working because he wasn't considered an essential worker. The pandemic disproportionately affected the most vulnerable, with Mang Brandy and Kuya Jonald among them. The pangs of hunger became more pronounced than the fears of the virus.

In response to the urgent needs of the people, various entities such as organizations, families, groups of friends, and churches rallied for donations in the form of cash, food, PPEs, or any other assistance. Our family compiled a list of individuals we knew were struggling with hunger. Every week, we sent food packs containing rice, canned goods, noodles, vegetables, coffee, and milk, hoping to sustain them until the next delivery. We initiated this effort in June 2020 with just three families on our list. However, as the pandemic persisted and lockdowns extended, many more families were added to the long list. Some were unknown to us personally but had been referred by friends or relatives. Their circumstances didn't matter; we were committed to helping to the best of our ability, for as long as we could.

Remarkably, Mang Brandy and Kuya Jonald are also on our list of recipients.

I consider myself incredibly fortunate and privileged to reside in Canada, a country that has, to some extent, avoided the worst impacts of the pandemic. I live in a sparsely populated area, where I can enjoy access to a lake, nature trails, and the outdoors even during the strictest lockdowns. The lockdown period allowed me to launch a website (although I've been somewhat inconsistent in updating it), learn about Instagram, and dedicate a significant amount of time to painting. Some of my artwork during this time has been inspired by social justice issues, particularly focusing on women's rights and the challenges faced by those experiencing housing insecurity—a situation exacerbated by unregulated housing prices, inadequate government policies, a profit-centered approach, and the stigmatization of those in precarious housing situations.

Over a year into the pandemic, I find myself participating in a Sunday market and spending considerable time in the beautiful outdoors of Northern Ontario. I genuinely acknowledge this privilege. Recognizing one's privilege isn't always easy; it requires self-awareness. I understand that I am in a more fortunate position than many others.

It is undeniably painful to witness the ongoing struggles faced by so many, particularly when I'm surrounded by these privileges. This awareness serves as a constant reminder of the urgent need for collective action and solidarity.

As I continue to embrace the beauty of my surroundings and engage in creative endeavors, I am committed to using my privilege as a force for positive change, to amplify the voices of the marginalized, and to support those in need. Our journey through this pandemic has illuminated both our vulnerabilities and our strengths, reinforcing the value of empathy, compassion, and community.

In the face of adversity, we have the power to make a difference, no matter how big or small, in the lives of those less fortunate. And that, in itself, is a privilege.