05/09/2026
Alice in Normaland
by Christina Almaiz and Keitley Villarta
Once upon a time, at a prestigious institution, a president promised fairy tales would come true.
The Normalite community once saw doom lurk in the crevices of the Cebu Normal University (CNU). When a new leader took the seat, it spoke of relief. A celebration went on for months to commemorate the feat. The gates gleamed once again, and the campus was about to embark on a fresh beginning. The crowd cheered; heads looked up to welcome the esteemed individual who replaced the cruel term.
"To our students, you are at the heart of this recovery," President Laurence Garcia said while facing his constituents during the investiture ceremony.
Indeed, its service should primarily center on the stakeholders who put the university on global podiums and carved distinctions which made it reputable.
But make no mistake: sweet tongues can also roll empty words.
Its golden halls may mimic the sunlit skies to convince people of its glory. Its crimson carpets may entice newcomers to forge their names into historical victories. By "recovery," it could also mean returning to traditional customs.
It seems this tale may be as old as time.
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟭: 𝗧𝗵𝗲 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝘁𝗲 𝗥𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗶𝘁
On August 13, 2026, Kabataan Partylist (KPL)-led Cebu Normal University (CNU) scholars and student activists staged a protest against the Office of Student Affairs and Services' (OSAS) Advisory No. 18.
Marching from the canteen, the students carried their advocacies on cardboard placards. However, OSAS Director Marino Garcia and security officials disrupted the march.
In the videos circulating online, KPL Representative Patricia Hope Alivio asserted their right to organize on campus and said that nothing in the student manual, the university code, or their constitutional rights restricted it. Director Garcia then clarified that he did not permit the demonstration, stating it wasn't what was initially agreed.
Meanwhile, CNU-Main Campus Supreme Student Council (Main-SSC) President and Student Regent Kurt Justin Jacalan approached the commotion and tried to negotiate.
In the series of events that followed, it was ultimately obvious: the administration's disapproval was absolute and firm.
This led to a campus lockdown and, consequently, the cancellation of the SSC’s Grand Balik Eskwela (GBE). Students voiced out on the freedom wall about experiencing mixed emotions: confusion, anger, and fear as the situation escalated to a “security threat.” One even remembered being shaken by panic as he tried to enter the campus grounds.
Perhaps there was a communication gap, or maybe such a plea was never considered in the first place. But is this how the university welcomes its freshmen and returnees?
The administration was clear: the agreement may be considered possible if it went through an approval process—if it abided by the student manual.
How disheartening it is to realize that the very democracy that designed the institution is the same democracy that requires a signature first to guarantee the students a minute of their rights.
When people are long deprived of liberty after last year's ordeal and exhausted by restrictive bureaucracy, a sugarcoated phrase can offer comfort.
And so, speak to them of tomorrows, of ideals, and progressive plans, then something as feeble as trust will be acquired.
But once they step in, the policies will turn their identity upside down.
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟮: 𝗗𝗼𝘄𝗻 𝘁𝗵𝗲 𝗿𝗮𝗯𝗯𝗶𝘁 𝗵𝗼𝗹𝗲
The descent begins not with a fall, but with a slow erosion. For Patricia Hope Alivio, the activist and student who once carried her convictions like armor, the situation has chipped away at her self-esteem.
What was once a proud declaration of identity now feels like a whisper forced into silence. Each ruling, each dismissal, each shrug from authority has left her questioning whether her voice still matters in a space that claims to represent students but seems to shrink them instead.
The Normalites know this story too well. They have learned to fold themselves into smaller versions of who they are, trimming the edges of their identities to fit a standard never designed for them.
As one anonymous entry from Normalite Freedom Wall (NFW) v2, posted on August 14, 2026, declared:
“This was simply never about one dress code rule. It's about hair, makeup, clothing, gender expression, and policies that students believe deserve to be questioned. Students have the right to raise concerns about policies that affect them.”
The words echo the frustration of those told conformity is the price of belonging. It is a cruel bargain: visibility traded for acceptance, authenticity exchanged for compliance.
And then there is SSC President Kurt Justin Jacalan, the student representative whose authority is being quietly undermined.
His role, meant to bridge students and administration, is now treated as ornamental—a crown without power, a voice without weight.
Decisions are made above his head, stripping his position of legitimacy. In a meeting right after the rally, before the GBE with the administrators, Jacalan himself revealed: “Gitaasan kog voice ni VP.”
The remark was more than a passing comment—it revealed that even when he tried to assert himself, his authority was overlooked, his voice drowned out by those with institutional power. It reminds us that representation can be hollowed out when those in power choose convenience over consultation.
This is no fairy tale. The rabbit hole does not lead to wonderlands but to corridors where voices echo unheard, where identities are trimmed to fit, and where representation is reduced to decoration. The play of power here is not whimsical—it is deliberate, and its ending is far from happily ever after.
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟯: 𝗥𝘂𝗹𝗲 𝘄𝗶𝘁𝗵 𝗪𝗵𝗶𝗺
In a future far, far away, students attended classes with hair as vibrant as the day, piercings clinging to their skin as they answered recitations, and wore themselves not only for the rules' convenience.
Students can do more than be confined to conventional appearances—to how-tos and listed procedures.
There was an incident of a student being harassed during entry solely due to possessing colored hair. Proving the recurring disrespect, Alivio was surrounded by security officials who tried to touch her during the rally—her boundaries were crossed, and videos circulating online showed the assertive demeanor of campus personnel.
“I don’t feel safe in the university,” she said.
So, if students feel their identity and safety are being compromised by the university that swore to protect them, who is to say their voices need to be discreet? Once protection necessitates lopsided control, is it even genuine to begin with?
We are governed by the whims of an outdated system. One that chastises actions that stray from the ordinary and abandons creativity at the expense of maintaining standards.
Unless the student manual is revised, the institution will keep drowning out wonders. Suck the spirit out of visionaries.
And until then, the regulations will say, “Off with their heads!”
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟰: 𝗖𝗼𝘂𝗿𝘁 𝗼𝗳 𝗠𝗮𝘀𝗸𝘀
It was as if Alice had stumbled into the Queen’s court, where rules bent depending on who stood before the throne.
The spontaneous rally—a plan whispered in corridors and shouted in open spaces—was not dismissed outright. Instead, students were led outside under the guise of safety, their voices muffled in the process. What was framed as protection became an act of silencing, a red-tagging maneuver.
One student witness and Jacalan released statements, while Mr. Jovanni Villacora, head of the Security team, was quoted saying: “Picturi ilang mga nawng para mailhan,”—a chilling reminder that dissent was being cataloged, faces marked for recognition.
In this Wonderland, allies appeared in unexpected places. In an interview with Ang Suga, Dr. Marino affirmed his support for revising the student manual, provided it undergoes due process. He even entertained the suggestion of gender-affirming uniforms, saying:
“The office is really welcoming those things. But then again, students are not the only stakeholders in the university, right? No, so there are a lot of people. So we always have looked into different signs for that. Not as much as the administration would really give everything to the students. But there are also limitations in it.”
The OSAS director’s words offered a glimmer of hope, but is he really an ally? Or is he simply stating what students wanted to hear?
The OSAS played the role of the Cheshire Cat, smiling in support of revising the student manual, its grin suggesting change but never revealing the full picture.
𝗖𝗵𝗮𝗽𝘁𝗲𝗿 𝟱: 𝗙𝗲𝘃𝗲𝗿 𝗗𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗺
Two weeks have passed, and the campus has grown eerily quiet. The rally that once echoed through corridors now lingers only as a memory, fading like a dream upon waking. No word from the administration, no follow-up, no reaching out to the students who dared to speak. The silence is not just deafening—it is deliberate.
The question presses heavier with each passing day: Has the issue really been addressed at all? Or has it been buried beneath layers of prestige and protocol, left unheard and unseen?
The university's name is often uttered in scenes of excellence. A century-old building stands tall nearby, a testament to resilience and progress in academe. However, excellence is not defined solely by the World University Rankings for Innovation (WURI), nor is it found exclusively in the quality of the concrete the facilities were built with. It's not a label hung on tarpaulins to boost the admission rate. It's not limited to published research papers.
Excellence means recognizing holistic development as a route to cultivate a learning environment that enables students to think, discourse, and express freely.
In a Senate budget hearing on the Commission on Higher Education (CHED) last August 27, 2026, Congressman Chel Diokno spoke with CHED Chairperson Dr. Shirley Argupis about the issues faced by Normalites and their rights. Consequently, Argupis vowed to arrange a dialogue with the CNU administration and the student body.
We have yet to unfold possibilities of a happily ever after and entertain curiosities that provoke imaginations. May dialogues not remain as hollow promises, but as a platform that shifts perspectives.
The time has come for students, faculty, and administrators alike to break the silence, confront the failures, and commit to building a university where excellence is measured not only by statistics, but by the courage to uphold justice, inclusivity, and genuine dialogue. §
Illustration by Frances Loraine Briones
is Ang Suga's column segment that publishes opinion articles written by its staff or contributed by the students, teachers, and non-teaching faculty of Cebu Normal University (CNU). You may send your work or ask questions via private message on our page.
[𝗗𝗶𝘀𝗰𝗹𝗮𝗶𝗺𝗲𝗿: The views and opinions expressed in this article belong to the author and do not necessarily represent or state the official position of the university.]
