Police served an arrest warrant against a 45-year-old married woman in the early hours of Tuesday morning, July 22, 2025, in her house in Sitio Tabay, Barangay Guadalupe.
Her crime? “Zelda” (not her real name) allegedly bought a newborn baby from a couple earlier this year who were later arrested for illegal gambling.
The suspect (I’m not sure if charges have been filed against her) shelled out P100,000 so she could have a child of her own since she and her husband did not have any children.
Because she surrendered to her maternal instincts, Zelda was reportedly No. 2 on the City Investigation and Detective Management Unit of the Cebu City Police Office’s wanted list.
Of course, I have no idea what her real motive was for entering into the transaction, but I would assume that was it. Why else would a childless woman want a child? Unless, of course, she is as evil as authorities paint her out to be.
If the former is true, then Zelda’s only guilt is that she didn’t go through the proper process to adopt a child, which could take months or even years.
Under the new Administrative Adoption and Alternative Child Care Act, the process should be completed within nine months, or longer for complex cases.
But why do I have this feeling that Zelda is being vilified, while the couple who sold their baby and the middleman who facilitated the transaction are getting off lightly? Let’s not forget that Zelda is also a victim here. I doubt she’ll ever see her money back. Plus, she has lost the child she would have wanted to raise as her own.
Am I condoning her action? It’s hard to say. I can’t begin to understand her dilemma when given the chance to have a baby right then and there. I think Zelda saw an opportunity and quickly grabbed it. Wrong? In the eyes of the law, yes. But a criminal? I don’t think so.
On Thursday, July 24, I was invited to watch the latest film by director and writer Antoinette Jadaone, starring Maris Racal and co-produced by Cebu’s very own Bianca Balbuena-Liew, at the SM Cinema Cebu.
It chronicles the life of the titular character Sunshine, a young gymnast, who, in the week of the national team tryouts, finds out she is pregnant. What I didn’t expect was for the film to tackle the subject of abortion without batting an eyelash.
Mind you, I was pro-choice in college and I continue to believe that a woman has the fundamental right to make decisions about her body and reproductive health. But unfortunately, here in the Philippines, women are regarded as babymakers; otherwise, the country’s population wouldn’t have jumped from around 20 million in the 1950s to over 110 million today. Anyone who doesn’t follow the narrative is quickly judged by society.
But, based on the film, things are changing.
Sunshine wants to terminate her pregnancy so she can pursue her dream, one that she has worked so hard for in the last nine years. And time is of the essence.
The film then takes you to a Manila you hardly see on TV: the dark alleyways, the noisy neighborhoods next to the Metro Rail Transit system line, or the crowded maternity wards.
This is Sunshine’s milieu, and she navigates its nooks and crannies like a pro. She drowns out all the distractions, as she was trained to do, and she focuses on her goal. Nothing will stop her, not even a near-death experience.
The filmmaker is not shy about her intentions. Throughout the film, she reminds you that Sunshine, no matter the cost, will do what she thinks is best for her, with or without society’s approval — even with the clichéd reasons for why she should keep the child.
I hate to bring up the words “sacrifice” or “selfish” because I don’t want to sound judgmental, but I guess it’s too late for that. Or maybe it’s the age talking.
Ultimately, both Zelda and Sunshine find themselves at a crossroads, forced to make deeply personal decisions that clash with societal expectations and legal frameworks.
While their circumstances are vastly different – one seeking to embrace motherhood outside traditional channels, the other fighting to defer it – their stories illuminate a shared struggle for autonomy in a society that often dictates a woman’s reproductive path.
Zelda’s desperate act, driven by a yearning for a child, and Sunshine’s unwavering pursuit of her dreams, even if it means challenging deeply ingrained norms, compel us to look beyond simplistic judgments.
Instead, they urge us to consider the complex realities that push individuals to their limits and the nuances of choice that often define a woman’s life.