The protests were led by Generation Z students, but quickly grew into something much bigger. We marched alongside church groups from different faiths, farmers, nurses, small business owners, teachers, urban poor people and workers. Shared anger united us across backgrounds and islands.

The protests on 21 September carried additional meaning. It was exactly 52 years since Ferdinand Marcos Sr declared martial law, and here we were again, under his son, President Bongbong Marcos, demanding justice for stolen money and broken promises. That day, people mobilised in dozens of cities at once. Campus organisations and student councils organised walkouts, while civic and church groups held marches and prayer rallies in their communities. Each of us connected corruption to the crises we experience: crumbling classrooms, destroyed farms, polluted rivers, unaffordable housing. Everything we struggle for comes back to the same disease: corruption.

What made these protests so powerful was their grassroots character. We didn’t wait for permission. We used our communities, networks and social media to coordinate. It was a movement built by people who’ve had enough.

Marcos Jr said he supported our cause and claimed he was committed to fighting corruption. But his words didn’t match his actions. On 21 September, after thousands of us gathered near Malacañang Palace, the presidential residence, police suddenly attacked the remaining protesters with brute force, including teargas. One bystander, not part of the rally, was killed by a police bullet.

That day, police arrested 277 people, including 91 minors. Some of them later told us how the police beat, humiliated and psychologically tortured them in custody. These are the same tactics used during martial law, and seeing them happen again under another Marcos shows how little has changed.

We were told we had the right to protest, but the government’s message was clear: dissent will be met with violence. However, the crackdown only strengthened our resolve.

We want everyone who stole public funds – politicians and private contractors alike — to be investigated, prosecuted and banned from public office and government contracts forever. But this is not just about punishing individuals. What we’re fighting is organised corruption because it keeps the Philippines underwater, literally and politically. We want to end the entire system that allows corruption to thrive.

We know that real accountability won’t come from a government still controlled by dynasties, particularly one led by a family that owes ₱203 billion (approx. US$3.5 billion) in unpaid taxes and has never returned the billions stolen during the dictatorship. Therefore, we’re demanding political reform: an anti-dynasty law, transparency in public contracts and real consequences for those who use power for personal gain.

For us, this is about breaking the cycle. We’re tired of watching every generation pay the price for the same crimes repeated under different political dynasties. We want a government that serves people.

We’ve drawn inspiration from other young people across Asia — in Indonesia, Nepal and beyond — who’ve also taken to the streets to fight corruption, inequality and repression. We see ourselves as part of the same generation refusing to stay silent while those in power treat public office like private property.

Gen Z movements across the region share the same conviction: corruption should not be a normal part of politics; it’s a social illness that must be confronted and cured. Whether it’s through digital campaigns, grassroots organising or protests we’re reclaiming accountability as a public value.

As we prepare for another national day of protest on 30 November, we know we’re not alone. We are part of something bigger. We’re part of a generation rising together to say: enough.