How Explained PH Brought Color to My Black and White World

I’ve always had a pencil in my hand for as long as I can remember. During my elementary years, I was always the Art kid—the one they’d all run to when there was a group activity that involved drawing.

It was the summer of 2015 when I was enrolled in what looked like a special writing summer class. Back then, I don’t even think I could remember the name of that class—“Journalism,” was it? A word my 3rd-grade mind couldn’t even comprehend, pronounce, or spell properly.

At first, I thought journalism was already pretty fun. Writing about funny-looking people I didn’t know, being allowed to bring our phones to take photo walks (something you couldn’t do on regular class days), and even reading scripts in front of everyone while wearing professional-looking coats that were too warm to wear during the summer, but looked cool. There was something about it that I enjoyed. But then they introduced Editorial Cartooning, and that’s when everything became even more exciting. From that point on, cartooning became my thing. I wouldn’t say I was the best at it, though. There’s always more to learn, and that’s what made it interesting.

By Grade 5, I joined my very first press conference. I didn’t really know what to expect, but somehow, I won first place at DSPC. And unexpectedly, I placed 5th in RSPC a few steps short for a podium finish and a ticket to nationals but that was the very first time I went on a trip for contests and I was so excited to know where the next venue will be. Grade 6 was almost a repeat—first again in DSPC, fifth again in RSPC. That streak gave me confidence. It made me feel like I had something to offer.

But Grades 7 and 8 were tough. I didn’t win. I didn’t even get to represent my school. Seniors I looked up to were better, faster, and more polished. And just like that, I was benched and my dreams of reaching the NSPC stage were once again put to rest.

Then came the pandemic. Grades 9 and 10 were my quiet years. No contests. No opportunities. Just me, still drawing random Juan dela Cruz doodles from time to time while in online class, just like how I used to before. I didn’t know it then, but those years were quietly shaping me. I learned to wait. I learned to keep creating even when no one was watching.

Grade 11 me would have gone crazy if you told her she’d have a comeback. This was the time I started from scratch, back to zero. I tried to relearn everything I had forgotten, re-drew faces of eminent politicians I had already grown used to, and realized that I had a long journey ahead.

For the first time in my JOURNey, I made it to NSPC. After all the pencils I had sharpened, papers I had trashed, and constantly not feeling good enough, when they called my name, I froze. I thought about all the losses, all the failed tries, all the quiet years.

Just when I thought the universe had blessed me enough, it pulled off something even more unexpected. I won as a champion at Nationals. For a moment, everything went still. The applause faded into the background, and I couldn’t hear anything except the thudding of my own heart. I didn’t even remember walking to the stage. My legs just moved on their own, like my body already knew what was happening before my mind could catch up. All I knew in that instant was that after all the setbacks, all the failures, I had finally made it.

That moment opened doors. It gave me validation, but more than that, it gave me the opportunity to practice real-world journalism. One of those opportunities was being invited to join Pitik Bulag, thanks to cartoonist Zach. I met and worked with people who were just as passionate and even more experienced than me. It was overwhelming in the best way, and even now, I’m still trying to get used to it.

Then came a message from Kuya Archie, who, on a random day in July, asked if I wanted to volunteer for ExplainedPH. I didn’t even think twice and said yes.

That “yes” became one of the best decisions I’ve ever made.

Because for the longest time, I was used to drawing in black and white—literally. Editorial cartoonists like me worked with Mongol 2 pencils, shading everything in grayscale. If I wanted something darker, I had to press harder. That’s how it was. That’s how I was. I got used to doing things under pressure, used to making the most out of what I had.

But when I joined ExplainedPH, something changed. Suddenly, it wasn’t just about contests. It wasn’t just about getting medals or qualifying for nationals. I had a space where my work could reach people, not just judges. I had a platform where my drawings meant something beyond awards.

For the first time, I wasn’t limited to black and white.

ExplainedPH gave me color.

It gave me direction.

It gave me a team.

It gave me a reason to keep drawing even after the press cons ended.

As I started my journey with ExplainedPH, I realized I wasn’t just moving forward for myself—I was also helping others find their own voice through cartooning. Teaching aspiring CJs how to draw cartoons, how to express themselves and their opinions through art, was like looking at my past self. I could see the same spark of curiosity that I had when I first picked up a pencil. Every time I taught them, I found myself rediscovering the joy of cartooning all over again, and I felt like I was passing on a part of my own journey. Watching them create, to see their own ideas take shape on paper, reminded me of why I started this in the first place.

In Grade 12, I went back to NSPC and had the honor of being recognized as the Most Outstanding Campus Journalist of Bicol. But more than that, I’ve grown into a new role—I’m now the Chief Cartoonist of ExplainedPH’s cartoon desk leading this amazing community of cartoonists. That still feels surreal to say.

Looking ahead, I know I’m done with high school press cons. That chapter’s closed. But I also know that my journey isn’t over.Far from it.

Because my JOURNey didn’t stop at MOCJ. That was just the turning point.