[FULL SPEECH] Pasig City Mayor Vico Sotto
Guest of Honor & Commencement Speaker
UP College of Law Class of 2026 Graduation
Date: July 11, 2026, Saturday
Duration: ~20 mins.
🎦 FaceBook / Umaagos ang Pag-asa
pax silica's 4,000-acre site is about the size of 38 mall of asias combined. w all the debate over its proposed legal framework and sovereignty implications, why isn't the progression getting more coverage from major news outlets??
Congressman Pulong Duterte, do you ever feel bothered by your conscience seeing the people of Mindanao losing their lives and suffer in the way they do, year in year out because of flooding?
When you took the P51 billion from the taxpayers’ money during your father’s failed administration, under cover of the stench of thousands of deaths and the dying from the Covid19 pandemic, did you and your father not not think about the ordinary people of Mindanao and elsewhere who has been suffering from the corruption your family brought into the nation of 115 million Filipinos?
Your father, the inutile Rodrigo Duterte, knew of the corruption that has plagued the country for so long. But he was to tell the nation later— “there’s nothing I can do.” Instead of fighting it as he promised, he not only joined the criminal enterprise— he became the figurehead and centralised his government’s criminal operations, thereby optimising his grip on power and influence. Funding for flood control projects were not only stolen and manipulated, he entrenched and consolidated people into positions of power and influence, himself as the kingpin. Under his regime, flood control projects fund scams flourished and made its heyday. He became the very symbol and protector of corruption he sought to overcome.
Fast forward in the middle of the impeachment trial against Vice President Sara Duterte, we witnessed her thick-skinned Chief of Staff Zuleika Lopez, callously declaring— “prepare for Typhoon Inday” as if the tragedy is not enough.
On its latest, Typhoon Inday killed 5 people and 6 others missing in one location alone in Maguindanao for a total of 17 deaths and 9 missing in the Visayas and Mindanao which bore the brunt of the deluge. And it’s only just the beginning, there are many more destructive typhoons to come.
And whilst Mindanao and the Visayas was suffering, the Dutertes were either gallivanting or busy politicking; their fanatics sowing destabilisation against the very government that exposed their evil deeds.
What a state of affairs of Mindanao and its supposed leaders!
Mister International Philippines Organization's Marlo Martin will also represent the Philippines 🇵🇭 at the Man Hot Star International 2026 pageant to be held later this year in Thailand 🇹🇭😎.
Photo credits to the owner 📸.
#ManHotStarPhilippines2026#ManHotStarInternational2026
So base sa reports, mukhang pinatawag ng Subic LGU yung mga katutubong Ayta na sumama kay Kara David na i-expose yung ilegal na dumpsite sa bundok ng Sitio Tibag, Naugsol, Subic, Zambales.
Obviously, hindi naman magiging tambakan ng basura 'yung bundok diyan kung walang basbas ng mga opisyal niyo.
For generations of Filipino boys, tuli or circumcision has never been a choice—and it's long overdue to rethink that.
Every April, during the start of "summer break," boys aged 8 to 12 have their foreskin removed. It's framed less as a medical procedure and more as a rite of passage tied to masculinity and social acceptance. Saying no is almost unimaginable, as the boy will be mocked not only as supot but also mahina, duwag, and even "bakla."
In many rural areas, it's done via the traditional "pukpok." Boys soak in rivers, chew bayabas leaves, and brace themselves as the manunuli—with no medical background—places a blade against the foreskin on a wooden stump and strikes it. No anesthesia, of course. Afterwards, the chewed bayabas leaves are applied to their wound, and the boys return to the river—as if shedding not only their skin but also childhood itself.
The practice predates precolonial rule. Anthropologist Nestor Castro traces Philippine circumcision to the arrival of Islam in 1450—long before the Spanish occupation in the 16th century. In "Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas," historian Antonio de Morga documented similar practices influenced by Bornean customs—with Jose Rizal's later annotations noting the custom persisted even among Christianized communities.
By the 20th century, Americans already observed how deeply embedded the practice had become. In "Circumcision and Flagellation among the Filipinos," Lt. Charles Norton Barney noted that being uncircumcised was treated as a "defect," so much so that children "cruelly taunting" those that hadn't undergone it yet. It also gave rise to the term "supút," which originally meant "constricted" or "tight" but evolved into an insult aimed at "one who cannot easily gain entrance in sexual intercourse."
Circumcision has since entered modern medicine. Today, it's performed by surgeons, urologists, or pediatricians in controlled clinical settings using anesthesia, sterile instruments, and precise techniques—from scalpels and scissors to specialized clamps and rings. Even laser is used to cut and cauterize at once, significantly reducing bleeding while also giving a more "aesthetic" finish.
The methods have changed, but the expectation hasn't. It's often justified on medical grounds, particularly hygiene. Smegma or kupal is cited as a concern, along with reduced risks of bacterial infections. Makati Medical Center, citing various global studies, also notes that circumcision may lower risks of urinary tract infections, penile cancer, HIV, and phismosis, or the inability to retract the foreskin (locally referred to as "hindi tagpos" or "hindi sakat).
Still, global medical discourse doesn't frame circumcision's benefits as a blanket requirement but a context-dependent intervention. The World Health Organization, for instance, has recommended voluntary medical male circumcision to reduce the risk of HIV infection during heterosexual exposure by 60%.
A 2023 editorial from WebMD notes that proper hygiene and condoms can help reduce significant risks, and being uncircumcised "will make no difference in your genital health and overall quality of life."
This is reflected in global patterns. According to the World Population Review, only about a third of males are circumcised. It's common among Muslim and Jewish communities, as well as in parts of the United States, Africa, and Southeast Asia. It remains rare in Europe, Latin America, and most of Asia, while Anglophone countries like Canada, Australia, and New Zealand treat it as a matter of personal preference. (In the Philippines, however, over 90% of males are circumcised.)
If so, what's often presented locally as a near-universal health necessity is, in reality, a highly uneven practice—shaped more by culture and history than medical consensus.
But the deeper issue isn't whether circumcision has medical value. It's how that value is used to justify a practice that most boys have no choice at all. For generations, manhood has been made to hinge on a piece of skin no boy ever chose to lose.
(✍️: Nikko Miguel Garcia, 🎨: Kieth Earl Rebaño, 📸: Municipality of Alangalang website)
#radarPH
For generations of Filipino boys, tuli or circumcision has never been a choice—and it's long overdue to rethink that.
Every April, during the start of "summer break," boys aged 8 to 12 have their foreskin removed. It's framed less as a medical procedure and more as a rite of passage tied to masculinity and social acceptance. Saying no is almost unimaginable, as the boy will be mocked not only as supot but also mahina, duwag, and even "bakla."
In many rural areas, it's done via the traditional "pukpok." Boys soak in rivers, chew bayabas leaves, and brace themselves as the manunuli—with no medical background—places a blade against the foreskin on a wooden stump and strikes it. No anesthesia, of course. Afterwards, the chewed bayabas leaves are applied to their wound, and the boys return to the river—as if shedding not only their skin but also childhood itself.
The practice predates precolonial rule. Anthropologist Nestor Castro traces Philippine circumcision to the arrival of Islam in 1450—long before the Spanish occupation in the 16th century. In "Sucesos de las Islas Filipinas," historian Antonio de Morga documented similar practices influenced by Bornean customs—with Jose Rizal's later annotations noting the custom persisted even among Christianized communities.
By the 20th century, Americans already observed how deeply embedded the practice had become. In "Circumcision and Flagellation among the Filipinos," Lt. Charles Norton Barney noted that being uncircumcised was treated as a "defect," so much so that children "cruelly taunting" those that hadn't undergone it yet. It also gave rise to the term "supút," which originally meant "constricted" or "tight" but evolved into an insult aimed at "one who cannot easily gain entrance in sexual intercourse."
Circumcision has since entered modern medicine. Today, it's performed by surgeons, urologists, or pediatricians in controlled clinical settings using anesthesia, sterile instruments, and precise techniques—from scalpels and scissors to specialized clamps and rings. Even laser is used to cut and cauterize at once, significantly reducing bleeding while also giving a more "aesthetic" finish.
The methods have changed, but the expectation hasn't. It's often justified on medical grounds, particularly hygiene. Smegma or kupal is cited as a concern, along with reduced risks of bacterial infections. Makati Medical Center, citing various global studies, also notes that circumcision may lower risks of urinary tract infections, penile cancer, HIV, and phismosis, or the inability to retract the foreskin (locally referred to as "hindi tagpos" or "hindi sakat).
Still, global medical discourse doesn't frame circumcision's benefits as a blanket requirement but a context-dependent intervention. The World Health Organization, for instance, has recommended voluntary medical male circumcision to reduce the risk of HIV infection during heterosexual exposure by 60%.
A 2023 editorial from WebMD notes that proper hygiene and condoms can help reduce significant risks, and being uncircumcised "will make no difference in your genital health and overall quality of life."
This is reflected in global patterns. According to the World Population Review, only about a third of males are circumcised. It's common among Muslim and Jewish communities, as well as in parts of the United States, Africa, and Southeast Asia. It remains rare in Europe, Latin America, and most of Asia, while Anglophone countries like Canada, Australia, and New Zealand treat it as a matter of personal preference. (In the Philippines, however, over 90% of males are circumcised.)
If so, what's often presented locally as a near-universal health necessity is, in reality, a highly uneven practice—shaped more by culture and history than medical consensus.
But the deeper issue isn't whether circumcision has medical value. It's how that value is used to justify a practice that most boys have no choice at all. For generations, manhood has been made to hinge on a piece of skin no boy ever chose to lose.
(✍️: Nikko Miguel Garcia)
#radarph