Every year, Esquire Philippines’ Man at His Best honors extraordinary Filipinos who are reshaping society. These are the men and women who are raising the bar for Filipino creatives, athletes, public servants, and professionals.
This year, we’re celebrating eight mavericks and living legends in film, music, business, politics, and entertainment. From National Artists Ricky Lee and Kidlat Tahimik to Mayor Joy Belmonte and tycoon Ramon Ang, here are the 2023 honorees who exemplify what it means to be a Man at His Best.
Meet Esquire’s Maverick of the Year, Joy Belmonte
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Finding an honest person in politics is as tricky as catching dry fish at sea. There's a general paranoia when we look at our politicians today. Watching the Philippine government function is akin to seeing the same teleserye with the same bad actors with the same old tired lines. In Metro Manila, our cities are running on fumes.
Quezon City, however, seems to be running on a different kind of fuel. It started out as a city of contradictions: a utopia-to-be for the working class (even if it did owe its patrimony to authoritarianism). Today, it sort of feels like the only city that makes sense. A place that feels free from the common urban rot every other Manila city and its constituents have. Swift action. A pioneer of modernization. The most dynamic economy in the country. Values held dear. Texture found everywhere. Freedom of thought, of expression, of choice, celebrated and shared. A local government that works for its people. What was once an imagined city has become—and remains as such—the dream.
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Its image is now being reshaped by its 11th mayor, Ma. Josefina "Joy" Belmonte. Under her watch, Quezon City is a beacon of dignity in this new era of political decay. When she took over, Belmonte knew that the disillusionment of democratic institutions was something she needed to contend with if she really wanted to resemble a force of good.
"I believed that the first thing I wanted to do was to win back the trust and confidence of people," she tells me. "[The public] has become skeptical and cynical."
PHOTO: Cyrus Panganiban
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To be critical of the state feels like a crime at times. But people like Belmonte know it's part of the (ideal) democratic process, something she learned firsthand. She is no stranger to criticism herself. "'Yung dalawang tough 'episodes' ko,” she explains, “I look at it as a humbling experience.
She talks about these two instances. When Mayor Herbert Bautista (the same Bautista who has two pending graft cases in the Sandiganbayan at the time of this writing) went on a trip abroad, he had Belmonte take care of the mayoral duties in his place. But by some shoddy luck, Quezon City was in the midst of a storm.
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No, not the fun-poetic-first-grade-metaphor-in-an-essay kind. A typhoon was coming and schools in the city were mulling suspension. Belmonte, for whatever reason, was hesitant about pulling the trigger, so to speak. She would cancel classes anyway, albeit a little later than what was expected of her. "According to Twitter, I was the most hated person in the country on that particular day.”
"'Pag nagci-criticize sila, I think to myself, 'Okay, saan nanggagaling tong taong 'to? Ano ba talaga yung kailangan niya? Saan kami nagkulang? Nakulangan pa [sila]. Kailangan pa na magtrabaho. May mga hindi pa masaya."
Not even a year into her first year as mayor, the pandemic hit. Shoddy luck. "A lot of people criticized me at that time," she recalls. The local government's response was perceived as, er, lackadaisical, to say the least. She was chided for the LGU’s slow aid distribution and lack of a proper plan, much like most leaders were. It was tough and it hurt like a mother, Mayor Joy says. But holding leaders accountable is never a bad thing. Even she knows this. "Those two very severe episodes were very good learning experiences for me. Hindi na din ako balat-sibuyas," she adds.
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"So now I feel that I can actually confront any criticism and I'd be fine. I've also learned to look at criticism in a very positive way. When I read something negative, I don't see the negativity," the QC mayor notes. "'Pag nagci-criticize sila, I think to myself, 'Okay, saan nanggagaling itong taong 'to? Ano ba talaga yung kailangan niya? Saan kami nagkulang? Nakulangan pa [sila]. Kailangan pa na magtrabaho. May mga hindi pa masaya."
"You know what archaeologists do, right?"
Asking the right questions there. I think sometimes we are living through a time when nobody is allowed to ask the state a question anymore. Hell, most politicians can't even tell us if the sky is blue. We're told to shut up and dance for our supper. We're the stupid ones. Too idealistic. Too naive. Belmonte, for what it's worth, understands this to some degree. Maybe because she never wanted to be a politician in the first place.
"I wanted to be an archaeologist." Scratch that. She actually is an archeologist. "When you're an archaeologist, [your] people don't [think of] your job as important. There were no archaeologists when I became an archaeologist. Very few of us."
Not the most glamorous job. Not as exciting as what Indiana Jones led us all to believe. "You know what archeologists do, right?" she asks rhetorically. "Naghuhukay… They would always say, 'Ano ba yung ginagawa mo? They did not see the value of what I was doing. They don't appreciate that what you're doing is you're building up history."
Funnily enough, in the field was where she began working closely with the government. Part of her job as an archaeologist and academic also entailed working with LGUs. "You have to excavate in cities." While she wasn't particularly interested in politics, she was inadvertently laying some of the groundwork for her career in public office. She's aware of how that sounds, too, considering the history of her own social pedigree.
Oh, the Irony
In politics, everyone is someone's son or daughter or brother or sister. Almost everyone is friends with everyone when they need to be. Belmonte is no different. On paper, Mayor Joy, after all, is the daughter of veteran politician and former QC Mayor Sonny Belmonte.
What was it like growing up in a big political household, you ask? "...He was a politician." Sure, the perks and opportunities were aplenty. But public life and privacy have never mingled well with each other. Belmonte admits that her dad's alternative “persona” did affect their lives back home. "He was so engrossed in politics," she claims, "that he skipped all my graduations." Not exactly an endorsement of an ideal father-daughter relationship. "I resented that, actually."
The irony is not lost on her. This resentment, of all those missed graduations and the traditional political machinery, bred a disinterest in politics throughout her life. "I, myself, have very negative experiences about politicians who always thought what I did was unimportant."
A woman grows up the child of a seasoned politician, not wanting to be a politician, becomes something entirely different (an archeologist, of all things), and ends up tracing the same path her father walked. How about that?
"Isn't that weird?" Belmonte says to me. "I decided I should run for public office just so I can be in a position where I can make decisions that might be important to other people... other people's advocacies should be given importance."
"When I was growing up, was that young girls grow up to be wives and you learn how to be a good housewife, a good mother, and a, you know... homemaker."
Truth be told, she might have learned more from her mother, she posits. Journalist and newspaper publisher Betty Go-Belmonte is best remembered as a luminary of Philippine journalism. The daughter of Go Puan Seng, one of the country's pioneering journalists in pre- and post-war Philippines, Go-Belmonte, lest we forget, founded two of our leading contemporary broadsheets in the aftermath of the dictatorship. "I became idealistic because my mother was idealistic," Mayor Joy says of her mom.
PHOTO: Cyrus Panganiban
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As her father was in his city hall office, her mother was grinding it out in the newsroom. "Pareho naman silang wala sa buhay ko," she jokingly clarifies. Her mother set an example for her. Go-Belmonte was a woman who broke from the traditional textbook-passive housewife-nurturer mold. "When I was growing up, the thinking was that young girls grow up to be wives and you learn how to be a good housewife, a good mother, and a, you know... homemaker." The Belmonte household matriarch was going to have none of that.
Neither did her daughter. Go-Belmonte believed in the idea of contributing to the greater good, which is something the QC mayor advocates in her leadership, either through work or volunteering. "I [really] learned to be generous and compassionate because of her." At the time of her death, Betty Go-Belmonte was a member of about 50 different boards. "Walang sweldo 'yan. All volunteer work."
"In other households, it's always God first, family [second], then country," she says of her mother's eternal words. "In our household, it was always God first, then country, and then family."
Mayor Joy became a volunteer teacher herself after graduating from the Ateneo De Manila University. She was part of the Jesuit Volunteer Program which conducted educational programs and created lesson plans for kids in underserved areas in provinces. When her mother learned of this, she would go to Ateneo's parent-teacher association and say, "I think all parents should let their children go on one year to serve the country." Surely enough, the parents didn't like that. "Parents send their kids to Ateneo so they can earn money," Mayor Joy quips.
Belmonte's days as a volunteer had a profound effect on her. It would also, in a way, deepen her relationship with her mother. Those days, her mother was living through her, as well. Of course, the older Belmonte was more than happy to help, too, when she was needed, even if it meant embarrassing her daughter a little bit.
"[I always say] now, 'Don't be self-righteous.' And I learned that from my mom. Nakakatawa."
Here’s a nice memory of her mom: during her stay at a far-flung municipality not to be named, Belmonte was living a simple life in a simple hut away from the shiny city centers she was used to. Electricity and water were hard to come by around those parts. Her daily routine would consist of having to go to the local market after school for food to cook. It was a 30-minute walk from the cottage she was staying at.
One day, to her surprise, she came home to a... refrigerator. A little something from mother. "Nakakahiya! But then she said, 'Oh don't be a hypocrite.'" Her mother reasoned that the fridge would allow the young Joy more time to concentrate on her job. "[I always say] now, 'Don't be self-righteous.' And I learned that from my mom. Nakakatawa."
Go-Belmonte visited her daughter, too, even staying with her for a few days. "I'll never forget that." A year after she got back from the Jesuit Volunteer Program, Mayor Joy would say goodbye to her mother; she succumbed to cancer just 27 days after her 60th birthday. "Apparently, she already had cancer when I was in the province. And she still went to where I was."
A fond memory, one for the road. It was quite the parting gift from the woman she's patterned her perspective after. "In other households, it's always God first, family [second], then country," she says of her mother's eternal words. "In our household, it was always God first, then country, and then family."
Quezon City, the Center of the Universe
God was in a very good mood when he made Quezon City. And I caught Belmonte in a hell of a mood herself just in time for this interview. "Yesterday was a very interesting day." Interesting is one way to put it.
It was Quezon City Day, the city's 84th founding celebration. Belmonte and her staff had just bagged two more awards. The first is the National Resiliency Award for Women, which she received for championing sustainable livelihood through the city's community-based urban farming program.
"You have the freethinkers here," Belmote adds, "who support you with your more liberal ideas and programs."
Meanwhile, the second is the prestigious Galing Pook Award (the "Oscars of the local government units," apparently), which was bestowed upon the Quezon City government for its Intelligent, Resilient, and Integrated Systems for the Urban Population or iRISE UP initiative. The project focused on providing communities with climate change and managing disaster risk solutions. "It was such a good and apt gift to give to the people of Quezon City."
A healthy brag indeed. Awards mean something, after all, in a world built on titles. The two awards only add to her term's long list of recognitions over the past few years.
More notable ones include the three consecutive years of having unqualified opinions from the Commission on Audit (housekeeping: the very first executive order that she signed was creating an internal audit service); and, of course, three straight years of attaining the Seal of Good Local Governance, the highest achievement a city can get from the Department of Interior and Local Governance. For the latter, the city is measured from its disaster risk reduction response to health and education services to financial standing and revenue generation.
But it was never about the awards, Belmonte says. "Whenever you go out into the street and people say thank you [is the biggest compliment]."
"Dito sa lungsod, the cities in general, not just Quezon City but all other cities, should be agents of change."
As the biggest and wealthiest city not just in Metro Manila but in the entire Philippines, Quezon City can afford to be a little more independent than its neighbors in terms of policies. There's an autonomy to the city that enriches the place, carrying over to how its people think and behave.
"Pwede tayong magkaroon ng sarili nating pananaw dito, pamamalakad. Hindi tayo natatakot." It's a city of mavericks, from top to bottom, left and right. Quezon City is as big as its brightest ideas and its deepest dreams, with the character to match. "You have the freethinkers here," Belmote adds, "who support you with your more liberal ideas and programs."
Belmonte has sort of become the de facto standard for decent governance in the Metro (I mean, come on). Conservatism has always had a stranglehold on our society and Right-winging is always in fashion. But in times when her contemporaries zig, she hopes to zag some more.
For starters, she's championed lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, intersex, queer/questioning, and asexual (LGBTQIA+) rights through initiatives like the Right to Care Card, which allows couples to make medical decisions on each other's behalf. Oh, and they can even register for a "Holy Union," too. This is on top of the fact that they can receive benefits mostly only given to straight couples. Sexual orientation and gender identity Equality Ordinance was passed some time ago, as well, and other cities have followed suit. As they should’ve.
"Ang pananaw ko, kahit na hindi mangyari sa Kongreso, hindi mangyari sa Senado, hindi mangyari sa national government, dahil sa mga conservative factions, dito sa lungsod, the cities in general, not just Quezon City but all other cities, should be agents of change," she says.
What a concept. Gender equality was something her campaign ran on when she started out. Mayor Joy is also particularly proud of how the city has mirrored the "gender-sensitive" lens that she has. "When I was studying archaeology, my thesis was on gender, women, and archaeology. [It was about] looking for the women in the archaeological record. So I knew all about the theories pertaining to gender equality already, even when I was in school."
"I want to leave this city wherein more people have choices in life, where the youth are able to study, get a better education, and [where] women have better opportunities."
She considers women the backbone of her campaign. "Ang mga kababaihan, ano ba talaga 'yung mga pangarap ninyo? I'm here to listen to you. I'm here to represent you." When she was elected vice mayor, she made it a point to create the Protection Center for Victims of Violence and Abuse, a safe space for victims of sexual harassment and abuse, covering women, children, and members of the LGBTQIA+. It was ahead of the curve in the country at the time. Here, they get access to lawyers, medical and legal experts, counselors, and social workers. "The woman just has to tell her story once," she claims, "and everyone is going to listen."
Another foreign concept: actually listening. She’s also heard the public outcry against the padrino system, and she shares the same sentiments. "Wala na dapat palakasan," she echoes. Hence, the large-scale automation of the city’s services.
Quezon City is among the only LGUs in the country to almost digitize at 100 percent capacity. Quezon City e-services offer about 23 resources for all its citizens, cutting back on the red tape in terms of health, education, tax payment, permit renewal, social welfare, and food security access. But she does admit that the "human element" of it all gets lost in the automation. Localized programs in coordination with schools and barangays are in place to cover that. "I want to leave this city wherein more people have choices in life, where the youth are able to study, get a better education, and [where] women have better opportunities."
And it took a lot more than good optics and relentless press release agents to achieve this, mind you. Vision is a precious thing. Ask Mayor Joy about where she sees Quezon City is headed, and she'll tell you that this city isn’t done. It was always meant to be a center of innovation. What began as a whisper in the president's ear, as poet Mookie Katigbak Lacuesta once articulated, has become a realization of a dream. And it's now Belmonte's turn to dream some more.
"My dream," the mayor says, "is that when people ask, 'What is a well-governed city?' I want them to think of Quezon City."
Story: Bryle B. Suralta Photographer: Cyrus Panganiban Editor-in-Chief: Paul John Caña Production: Paul John Caña and Bryle B. Suralta Creative Direction: Igi Talao Design Direction: Igi Talao
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