I write this column on National Heroes Day, a moment set aside every last Monday of August to honor the men and women whose courage and sacrifice shaped our nation’s history. National Heroes Day often highlights Jose Rizal, Andres Bonifacio, Apolinario Mabini, and other male revolutionaries, but seldom do we pause to remember the quiet yet unshakable courage of women like Melchora “Tandang Sora” Aquino.
Our laws, such as Republic Act 9492, which designated the last Monday of August as the Philippine National Heroes Day, institutionalize this day of remembrance not merely to glorify the past, but to remind Filipinos that heroism is a continuing duty. And when we speak of heroism, Tandang Sora’s example is one to emulate.
Known as the “Mother of the Philippine Revolution,” Tandang Sora was 84 years old when the Revolution started. Her moniker “Tandang Sora” came from “tandang,” which means old, and “Sora,” a shortened version of Melchora, which in Tagalog is pronounced “Melsora.” As a little kid, she was highly literate and incredibly intelligent even though she had no formal education. As an adult, she lived a humble yet fulfilling life as a farmer and a devoted mother to her six children.
By the time the Philippine revolution rolled around in the late 19th century, Tandang Sora was a respected farmer and businesswoman who supported the Katipunan, the secret revolutionary society founded by Andres Bonifacio. She risked her life and property to provide food, shelter, and medicine to the Katipuneros. She was poor and widowed, yet she gave what she had, especially her maternal care, to her kababayans and even refused to betray their cause.
It’s truly telling that she wasn’t a person of position at all, and that she didn’t even seek titles or recognition, yet she embodied service, sacrifice, and integrity in their purest form.
In today’s climate, where the idea of heroism sometimes feels blurred by politics and self-interest, Tandang Sora reminds us that heroism is not just in the battlefield but in the quiet, selfless act of giving for the greater good.
Contrast this with the present.
Today, the stage is dominated not by revolutionaries but by officials who line their pockets for alleged ghost projects, contractor monopolies, and misallocated flood-control funds. Families go hungry as they are dragged by the weight of inflation and poverty.
Not to mention the twin crises of disinformation and education due to systemic neglect, thus betraying our Filipino youth. All of these issues force us to ponder: are there still heroes among us?
Tandang Sora’s life answers that question. She shows us that heroism is not the absence of hardship but the courage to face it with selfless resolve.
Just like the jeepney driver who wakes up before dawn to bring workers and students safely to their destinations, the overseas worker who endures loneliness abroad just to keep food on the table for family back home, the medical personnel who work a double shift in an underfunded public hospital, caring for patients despite exhaustion, the fisherfolk who sail out at night in small wooden boats, braving rough seas so that their families and communities will have something to eat the next day, and the garbage collector who quietly keeps our streets clean, often without proper protection or recognition. All of them, in their own ways, carry the fire our heroes, like Tandang Sora, once lit.
National Heroes Day is not just a look back at history. It’s a reminder that heroism is still possible and still needed today. To stand up for what is right, to serve others and the community without spectacle, and to keep believing and working for a better country. It is about examining ourselves and our leaders and demanding that they rise to the same standard of heroism that our forebearers once did.
Because the Philippines still needs heroes. Not just once a year, but every single day.
And in Tandang Sora’s example, we are reminded that those heroes don’t always wear titles or hold power; they are ordinary people who choose to serve, resist, and care for others in the face of hardship.