Reclaiming the Crimson: Angel Locsin, Robin Padilla, and the Master Class in True Courage

There is a vast, ocean-wide chasm between performative bravado and lived courage. This chasm was laid bare during the Senate impeachment proceedings of Vice President Sara Duterte. Under the bright lights of the chamber, Senator Robin Padilla casually declared, “Komunista po ako” (I am a communist), while questioning a witness. Whether his claim was a genuine ideological confession or a contrived piece of political theater is almost beside the point. What matters is the context of his speech: Padilla spoke from a position of absolute safety. Shielded by senatorial immunity, wrapped in the protective layers of political alignment, and enjoying the privileges of power, his “admission” carried no threat of a warrant, no risk of a frozen bank account, and no danger of a midnight knock on his door.

By contrast, actress and humanitarian Angel Locsin spoke from a place of lived vulnerability. In her subsequent open letter to Padilla, whom she affectionately calls “Kuya”, she delivered a master class in courage by asking a single, devastating question:

“Ang tanong ko lang, nasaan ka nung panahong nirered-tag ako kahit alam mong hindi totoo? Actually, kasama mo pa nga at kachikahan yung mga nangre-red-tag. Naghugas-kamay at pumikit sa katotohanan.”*

With those few sentences, Locsin did what many in the halls of power refuse to do: she held her former colleague directly accountable. She exposed a chilling double standard where the powerful can flirt with revolutionary labels for political theater, while ordinary citizens, grassroots advocates, and community health workers face life-threatening consequences for merely serving the marginalized.

The Red Lipstick Campaign: Reclaiming the Color of Terror

To understand the depth of Angel’s courage, we must look back to when the state actively tried to weaponize the color red against her, her sister Ella, and dozens of other female activists.

In the Philippines, “red-tagging” is not just a smear campaign; it is a preamble to state-sanctioned violence. When military and government officials began painting Locsin as an “enemy of the state” because of her tireless disaster relief and community work, the intent was clear: to isolate her, silence her, and make her a target.

But they forgot that the women of this country do not back down. In an act of brilliant, unified resistance, the women’s movement—led by Gabriela, fellow artists, and everyday advocates—launched the “Red Lipstick Campaign.”

Instead of cowering, deleting posts, or apologizing for their advocacy, women across the nation painted their lips crimson. They flooded social media with selfies of defiant red smiles. They took a color that was being used as a mark of doom and reclaimed it as a badge of fierce, unapologetic solidarity. By painting their lips red, they told the state: If you target one of us, you target all of us. And we will meet your fear with beauty, and your violence with unity.

While Robin Padilla—the self-styled “macho” action star and self-proclaimed modern-day Andres Bonifacio—chose silence and “washed his hands” in the company of the red-taggers, thousands of ordinary women stood in the light, armed with nothing but their courage and a tube of red lipstick.

True Patriotism is Not a Solo Act

Locsin’s open letter is a direct continuation of that red lipstick resistance. She dismantled the myth of the “revolutionary” patriarch. She reminded Padilla, and all of us, that genuine patriotism cannot coexist with selective silence. You cannot claim to love the country while staying silent as your friends and colleagues are hunted down by the very people you share coffee with.

Her letter concluded with a plea that resonates far beyond the Senate walls: “Tama na, Kuya. Gising na. Hindi pa huli ang lahat.” It is a call for all public servants to wake up to their true duty. But more than that, it is a reminder to the public of what real strength looks like.

True courage does not thump its chest on a Senate floor with a microphone in hand. True courage is quiet, persistent, and deeply rooted in community. It is the courage of a woman standing up to her “Kuya” to demand truth. It is the courage of an entire movement reclaiming the color red, turning a threat of death into a vibrant promise of collective survival.

(MindaViews is the opinion section of MindaNews. Dr. Jean A. Lindo is an anaesthesiologist. She chairs Gabriela Southern Mindanao and is Secretary General for Mindanao of the Gabriela Women’s Party. She teaches Community Medicine at the Davao Medical School Foundation, Inc.)