Prince of the Resolution

(This article was edited to correct the name and designation of Vice Mayor Love Baronda)

The Iloilo City Council apparently declined to honor Vice Mayor Love Baronda — you know, the woman who just became the first Visayan and first female National Chairperson of the National Movement of Young Legislators, which is genuinely a big deal — and instead of just moving on, somebody decided the correct response was to call her “princess politics.”

And that somebody is no less than Councilor Rex Marcus Sarabia, whom we now dub as the Prince Petty of the First Estate.

Prince Petty, apparently unbothered by irony, coined the term “princess politics” to describe a woman who won a national leadership position by a vote of her peers. His Royal Highness then watched — presumably from his throne — as three other legislative bodies rushed to honor Baronda precisely because his council wouldn’t. The Sangguniang Panlalawigan. The Sangguniang Kabataan Federation. The Provincial Board. All of them basically said “we got her” while Prince Petty sat in the corner having chosen violence.

This is the political equivalent of not clapping at a graduation and then being confused when everyone notices.

Here’s the thing about calling a woman “princess” in politics: it’s a move so 2004 it should come with a Destiny’s Child soundtrack. It’s the kind of language that says, your achievement isn’t real, it’s decorative. Which, ironically, is exactly the vibe of someone who denies a courtesy resolution because — why, exactly? She got too successful? The optics were too good? The snub was giving main character energy for all the wrong reasons.

Baronda, to her credit, issued a statement with the measured fury of someone who has been in enough rooms to know exactly what’s happening. She did not call anyone out by name. She did not have to. The statement was a full press conference wrapped in parliamentary language, and the last line — “I am not ‘princess politics.’ I never was, I am not, and I never will be!” — is frankly going to live in Iloilo political lore for years.

Meanwhile, Prince Petty has successfully accomplished the following: made Baronda more visible, made three other legislative bodies look gracious by comparison, and handed her a narrative that basically writes itself.

In the kingdom of unforced errors, this one wears the crown.

No cap, your Highness — you played yourself.

***

Pabati-bati

The Iloilo City Council apparently did not get the memo that Wednesday, March 11, 2026 was not the day to be testing people.

Because while the Baronda drama was still very much in the group chat, Councilor Jose Maria “Nene” Dela Llana stood up during the 10th Regular Session and, in the middle of a manifestation about OFW financial assistance, said — and we are not paraphrasing — that he did not want the headlines to be sala. Wrong. Off. Bad.

He said this. In the room. With the reporters right there.

Now, to be fair, Dela Llana was technically talking about not wanting the city government to look unprepared on OFW repatriation. A reasonable concern! A legitimate point! And then, for reasons that remain between him and whatever instinct betrayed him in that moment, he framed it as a fear of what the headlines might say. Not as a commitment to doing the work. Not as a policy statement. As a headline management problem.

Sir. The reporters were in the room.

This is the political communication equivalent of saying “I don’t want anyone to think I’m rude” and then saying it rudely, to the person’s face, while they are standing right in front of you holding a pen and a recorder.

Reporters who cover City Hall — people who show up to every session, sit through every manifestation, and write stories that are sometimes flattering and sometimes not, because that is literally the job — took exception. And honestly? Relatable. Nobody wants to be told, implicitly, in front of guests, that they might be in the business of manufacturing bad coverage about people who are, in fact, doing nothing wrong.

The thing is, the reporters were not even running a story saying the city government was asleep on OFW welfare. There was no offending headline. There was no prior hit piece. The feared article did not exist. Dela Llana was preemptively defending against a ghost because he may have been eating the lotus of good headlines-cum-praise releases from City Hall.

Which means he did not just imply that reporters write misleading stories. He implied it for no reason, about a story that had not been written, in a room full of the people he was implying it about.

The media lounge, for the record, is open. The lines are open and the reporters are there. They were there on Wednesday. They will be there next Wednesday. And if any city official has something to say about OFWs, or anything else, the notebook is ready and the recorder is charged.

No bad headlines necessary. Just accountability. That’s the job — and apparently, someone in that session hall needed the reminder.

(The Daily Guardian does not endorse the use of royal titles in local governance. This is satire.)