CAGAYAN DE ORO CITY (March 25) — The image is familiar but rarely centered in policy conversations: a woman walking hours to reach a remote barangay, riding a habal-habal across rough roads, or facilitating meetings in communities without electricity. For the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD) in Northern Mindanao, that reality is not just anecdotal—it is foundational to how governance should work.
More than three decades since she first navigated those conditions as a field worker in Bukidnon, Regional Director Glofelia J. Uayan now frames women not as passive recipients of state aid, but as critical actors in development. The shift, she suggests, is not merely rhetorical. It is a response to persistent gaps between policy intent and lived experience.
Government programs have long leaned on women as conduits of social protection. In the Pantawid Pamilyang Pilipino Program (4Ps), about 90 percent of beneficiaries are women—tasked with managing cash grants and ensuring compliance with health and education conditions. The model is often cited as empowering. But it also raises a question: does assigning responsibility translate to actual decision-making power?
Uayan argues that participation must go beyond program compliance. Initiatives like KALAHI-CIDSS and the Sustainable Livelihood Program attempt to bridge that gap by placing women in community assemblies where priorities are set and resources allocated. In theory, these spaces democratize development planning. In practice, however, participation can still be shaped by entrenched norms, time poverty, and unequal access to information.
“Women are present,” one local development worker noted in a previous forum, “but presence is not the same as influence.”
This tension underscores a broader challenge in governance: inclusion is often measured by numbers, not by the quality of engagement. While women dominate beneficiary lists, their voices in decision-making processes may still be mediated by household dynamics, cultural expectations, or local power structures.
The issue becomes more urgent in geographically isolated and disadvantaged areas, where state services are thin and community decisions carry greater weight. Here, women often have the most intimate knowledge of daily struggles—from water access to food security—yet may have the least formal authority to shape solutions.
DSWD’s response has been to pair participation with protection. Strengthening Violence Against Women and Children (VAWC) desks and expanding rights awareness campaigns aim to create safer conditions for women to speak and act. But underreporting remains a concern, driven by fear, stigma, and limited trust in institutions.
Advocates say this reflects a deeper structural problem: empowerment cannot be sustained without addressing the social risks that silence women in the first place. Legal frameworks exist, but enforcement and accessibility vary widely across communities.
The agency’s activities during National Women’s Month—from digital skills training to safe spaces orientations—highlight ongoing efforts to close these gaps. Yet they also reveal the scale of the challenge.
Capacity-building initiatives, while valuable, must contend with systemic inequalities that extend beyond the scope of short-term programs.
For Uayan, the path forward is clear but demanding. Governance must be participatory not only in structure but in outcome. Women must not only attend assemblies but shape their agendas; not only receive services but define how those services are delivered.
The stakes are high. As the Philippines continues to rely on community-driven development models, the effectiveness of these approaches will depend on whose voices are heard—and whose are not.
In Northern Mindanao, the lessons from decades of fieldwork are now informing policy direction. But the test remains on the ground: whether the long walks, the difficult journeys, and the unseen labor of women will finally translate into lasting power within the systems meant to serve them.
