I am not so hopeful about the rest of the country in 2026, but I have some hopes for Davao City, the place where I live. And, to be melodramatic about it, the place where my essence dwells.
Let me explain the melodramatic part. I started referring to Davao as the place where my essence dwells when I was in college taking more Philosophy subjects than any Economics major is expected to take. It started as a wisecrack but as I left Davao for other places to live and work as a young adult, I appreciated what the phrase meant in a much deeper way.
To say “the place where my essence dwells” is a profound way of pointing toward the core of my being — my true, authentic self beyond roles, thoughts, and transient emotions. It is not just my physical home, but my spiritual one. It is something I carry inside wherever I go. It is a state of being, a quality of presence I can access anytime, anywhere. It is a place I return to when I need to recenter after being shaken by life’s storms. It is a sense of permanence and safety where I cannot be easily evicted or destroyed.
That is why “Davao: Life is Here” hits different for me. It is not just a life, but a meaningful life — where I find the comfort of home, the clarity to live authentically, the strength to endure, and the courage to hope.
Ah, hope. To hope is not a simple act of wishing; it is a complex, courageous stance toward life and the future. To hope is to desire a future good coupled with the expectation that it is possible, even if not certain. It is the mental bridge between the “what is” and the “what could be.”
Hope is not just wishing because wishing can be passive and fantastical (“I wish to win the lotto”). Hope is active and grounded in some degree of reality.
Hope is not just blind optimism because optimism can be a general expectation that things will work out. Hope often exists in spite of evidence to the contrary. It can look directly at suffering and still say, “There can be more.”
Hope is not certainty because it thrives in the space of “maybe.” If the outcome is guaranteed, hope becomes expectation or knowledge.
Renowned positive psychologist Charles R. Snyder, who is known for his Hope Theory, views hope as a verb. It is not just feeling; it is thinking and doing. It is what gets you out of bed to work on a difficult project, heal a relationship, or fight for a cause.
Snyder defined hope as having three components: (1) Goals – a desired future outcome (“I want this to happen”); (2) Pathways – the ability to envision possible routes to that goal (“I can think of ways to get there”); and (3) Agency – the belief in your own power to take steps along those paths (“I can do this”).
These are my hopes for Davao City, the place where my essence dwells:
That it continues to provide a sense of belonging and community to everyone who lives and comes here. That you can walk down a street and feel you belong — not just as a resident, but as part of a living tapestry of people. That neighbors know each other’s names, look out for one another, and share in both celebrations and hardships.
That it continues to give us a sense of safety and well-being. That the streets are safe for everyone — for children to play, for elders to stroll, for anyone to walk at night without fear. That the city cares for the vulnerable with compassion, shelters, mental health resources, affordable healthy food, and a social net that forgets no one. That the air is clean, the water is pure, and there are more green spaces to breathe and heal.
That it is a city full of vibrancy and culture. That art thrives everywhere — in murals on alleyways, music in parks, theater in small venues, and conversation in cafes. That local entrepreneurs and creators are supported, giving the city its unique flavor and soul, resisting homogenization. That there is always something to discover — a hidden gallery, a festival, a cultural tradition, a new taste.
That it always promotes justice and equity. That opportunity is fair for everyone. That systems of power are accountable and just, and the city actively works to dismantle inequality in all aspects at all levels. That diverse voices are not just present but heard and valued in shaping the city’s future.
That the city grows wisely — developing without erasing its history, character, or displacing communities. That it preserves its soul while making room for new ideas and people. That it invests in infrastructure that serves people — reliable public transportation, accessible means of communication, functional and beautiful public spaces.
That the city remains resilient and caring. That It can withstand shocks — economic, climatic, or social — with solidarity and innovation. That people come together in a crisis, embodying the principle that “we are all in this together.” That the city learns from its mistakes and strives to be better for future generations.
That the city will always be a place of possibility — not just for me, but for everyone who calls it home. That it will embody the best of urban life — anonymity when you need it, community when you seek it, culture to inspire you, and a foundation sturdy enough to build a life upon.
Hope is not just personal; it is social and political. It is the engine of social movements. It is the belief that justice, though delayed, is possible.
Hope requires imagination. To hope for a better place, you must first be able to imagine one that does not yet exist.
And hope is a gift we give each other. When one person’s hope falters, it can be sustained by the community. A community sustains hope not as a passive wish, but as an active, collective practice. By weaving a fabric of mutual care, shared narrative, and tangible action, it turns the abstract “someday” into the practical “this Monday.”
Yes, in Davao, I believe that hope is here.
