The worst they could do is be relatable this Christmas
From fleets of sports cars to lavish weekend getaways, Filipino social media users scoured the internet for any ostentatious displays of wealth by local celebrities, politicians, and most notably, nepo babies. After all, 2025 was the year of flood control. And with the money stolen through anomalous and ghost projects amounting to the billions, Filipinos demanded justice and accountability one way or another.
Not to mention, they sure as hell weren’t going to get it from due process anyway, at least not yet.
And without any significant arrests being made since the flood control scandal was first brought to light, who better to receive the ire of the masses than the nepo baby thoughtlessly spending our taxes?
Like a whack-a-mole waiting for the right time
In response to the sudden influx of hate and unwanted attention, identified so-called nepo babies such as Claudine Co, Gela Alonte, and Jammy Cruz began to lay low, refraining from posting on social media or outright disabling their accounts to prevent any further scandal.
Meanwhile, high-profile names linked to the scandal through their partners, such as Heart Evangelista and Maine Mendoza-Atayde, notably reduced their social media presence temporarily—think of it as the tried-and-tested Filipino strategy to lay low, hoping that the public will forget and eventually move on.
Make no mistake, this isn’t an instance of crab mentality or blind hate directed at those who are simply rich—rather, it is anger, and a demand for justice and accountability manifested through shaming those whose wealth they did not honestly earn.
Amid this social media witch hunt, Manny Pacquiao flexed his Patek Philippe Nautilus, with the eight-division world champion only saying, “Hindi ‘yan flood control, ha,” trusting that the Filipino people would trust that his wealth came from blood, sweat, and tears—and that they did.
Christmas and the happy middle
Department of Trade and Industry (DTI) Secretary Cristina Aldeguer-Roque recently came under fire for claiming that P500 would be enough to prepare a Noche Buena meal. Limiting the dinner selection to dishes such as Christmas ham, spaghetti, fruit cocktail, and pandesal, Roque claimed that “not everybody naman wants to celebrate ostentatiously,” hence her prescribed amount.
Discounting her out-of-touch and unrealistic computation, the statement was also done in bad taste, considering the rampant corruption recently on display—it was as if she were telling the Filipino people that they could get by on P500 for their Christmas dinner while undeserving contractors and corrupt officials would indulge in extravagant, taxpayer-funded celebrations on the 25th.
In the middle of this, Mariel Padilla—and we would like to know who even told her this would be a good idea—went ahead and ‘proved’ that she could make a P500 Noche Buena work, with a spread of spaghetti, sweet ham, macaroni salad, and raisin gelatin.
Padilla did state that she did it as a challenge to herself, rather than to prove or support DTI’s claims. “I think baka namang makakapagpasaya siya. I think it looks festive enough. I’m not siding with DTI, and I do believe that Filipinos deserve more. I just wanted to prove it and challenge myself that I can make P500 work.”
But if anything, all she did was show up in front of the camera and act as if that sorry excuse of a Noche Buena was something she’d actually enjoy.
A humble masquerade
Within only a few months, we’ve witnessed two extremes, two distinct shows of wealth from people we know who have it: an outright and unapologetic display of wealth, and a humble masquerade to act as if they’re just like everybody else.
With Christmas approaching, a time when the typical family photos, the handaan and vacation vlogs from influencers, celebrities, and politicians usually appear on social media—now is also the time to ask: What would we rather see on our feeds?
Will a show of wealth be branded as insensitive to poorer families who have nothing to feast on this Christmas? Will a humble evening dinner earn the praises of our netizens?
Likely. But if you’re asking me, I’d rather see the lavish trip or the obscenely extravagant dinner. Because—provided that they’re honestly earned—at least they’re keeping it real. Otherwise, isn’t it much worse (and a slap to the face) for someone earning what we could never do in a lifetime to act as if they weren’t any different?
To act as if they were “just like everyone else?”
