To Write as We Are: MSUans at SOX Writers Workshop 2025

Writing rarely comes easy, especially when you’re searching for a way to speak in a world that often asks you to use words that don’t quite fit. Too often, writers are told to smooth their edges, to write like someone else—from somewhere else. Yet, despite that, there are still those who choose to stay: to write from, for, and about the region, in their local language, to give life to the culture that raised them.

From July 28 to 31, these writers found a space to breathe at the 2025 SOX Writers Workshop held in Rangayen, Alamada, Cotabato. Organized by the Cotabato Literary Circle in partnership with the National Book Development Board (NBDB), Aklat Alamid, and other literary groups in the region, the workshop gathered emerging writers from South Cotabato, Cotabato, Sultan Kudarat, Sarangani, and General Santos City. 

© National Book Development Board - Philippines

What began in 2019 as the SOX Summer Writing Camp has grown into something much deeper. Rebranded in 2023, the SOX Writers Workshop is no longer just a venue for honing literary works; it has become a community of writers reclaiming space, nurturing language, and amplifying regional truths.

As Jemima Atok-Abesamis, a 2023 fellow and this year’s head secretariat for creatives, describes it: “Ang pinaka vision ng SOX Writers Workshop this year ay ‘ang pagsubsob sa sawsawan ng isa’t isa’.” The workshop envisions a space where fellows arrive carrying the weight of their personal and cultural experiences, coming together to meet, merge, and transform one another.

With this, MSUans stood alongside fellow storytellers from the region. Justine Paul Paraz shared his poetry. Ghermaine Marie Micaroz participated in creative nonfiction alongside Al-Rasheed Manong, and Rheven Charles Galvan, a recent BA Filipino graduate. For creative fiction, Sophia Kathleen Cabarubias and Hezel Ann Sulan brought stories grounded in both imagination and their culture.

For them, the workshop felt like a home they didn’t know they were missing.  For a few days, they were surrounded by people who understood the importance of telling a story. It was a space where they didn’t have to explain who they were or where they came from. Through critiquing sessions, they were taught not just how to write better, but were also reminded of why they write in the first place. 

To be Vulnerable and Still be Comfortable

For Ghermaine Marie Micaroz, a BA Literary and Cultural Studies student, from Sarangani province, the SOX Writers Workshop is one of those rare places where writers can be messy, strange, vulnerable, and still be taken seriously. Though she admits she didn't originally write Creative Nonfiction, with the mentorship of Yas Ocampo and inspiration from CNF writer Jennie Arado, the genre became very valuable to her.

“Mas naging malinaw sa akin na ang creative nonfiction ay hindi lang basta ‘pagsasalaysay ng totoong nangyari, kundi isang sining ng pagninilay, pagbalik-tanaw, at paglalang ng kahulugan mula sa sarili nating experiences,” she reflects.

Ghermaine, who doesn’t usually open up easily, found herself peeling back layers she didn’t even know she was hiding. “That's what touched me most—that all of us felt safe enough, heard enough, seen enough to share our most broken parts to each other,” she says. Since entering MSU in 2022, she has felt deeply shaped by the unique and often overwhelming life of an MSUan. The diversity of languages, beliefs, and customs on campus made it difficult to find her footing at first, and that struggle to belong found its way into her workshop piece. It told the story of a young college student navigating the uncertainty between leaving home and becoming someone new.

 “Bilang mga manunulat, pasan-pasan namin ang burden ng pagpasa ng kuwento hindi lang ng mga ninuno natin, kundi pati na rin ng kuwento ng ating henerasyon,” she says. “Local artists carry the culture of our region, and if they can’t find spaces where they feel they belong, they might choose to stay silent.” The workshop reminded her why local writers matter. In a world that often dismisses artists as eccentric, unstable, or too emotional, creating spaces of belonging becomes essential.

To Tell What History Books Won’t

For Al-Rasheed Manong, a BA History student, also a creative nonfiction fellow from Saranggani Province, the workshop became a space to bring long-held stories into the light; stories that history books have overlooked, but that live on in his community. His piece, “Ang Massacre sa Dalampasigan ng Radia,” traces an undocumented event during Martial Law: the tragic killing of Tausug men from Kiamba who had fled to Baliton, Glan, in search of safety. Al-Rasheed’s story revealed not just the violence of that time, but the silence that followed—how the massacre remained a memory among locals, never written down or recognized by formal historians. 

“Para sa akin,” he says, “ito ang na-share ko during the workshop to tell the history and culture of Glan and Kiamba, and to finally give it a place.” What moved him most was the chance to be seen, not just as a writer, but as someone carrying the voices of his people. A lifelong lover of local history, Al-Rasheed felt both honored and responsible to share a work still in progress, with hopes of one day writing it fully into the record. 

Through critique and conversation, he began to better understand what his writings needed: that emotional intensity can bring a story to life, but must be carefully held. “Siguro yung learning na nagpahelp sa akin to understand my writing style,” he reflects, “is to write when you’re overwhelmed,  but don’t overdrive.” The experience fueled his drive to keep writing about his people, and to keep searching for stories still left untold. He believes the workshop has the power to do the same for many young writers in SOX, to help them know themselves more deeply, master their voice, and uncover the histories waiting in the margins.

To Imagine Beyond the Wound

For Sophia Kathleen Cabarubias, a BSEd Filipino student and fiction fellow from General Santos City, the SOX Writers Workshop may not be a return to personal history, but a step deeper into the world of imagination. She brought with her the story of Rhea—a fictional character born from a sudden rush of inspiration. 

 “Tulad ng maraming kabataan ngayon,” she explains, “isa rin siyang naging saksi sa isang pangyayaring hindi niya inaasahan, isang karanasang nagpatunay na may mga sugat at lihim ang bawat mata na tahimik na nagmamasid.” Through her eyes, Sophia explored the traumas people carry, the kind that hide behind still stares and unsaid words.

Sophia, whose mind naturally wanders toward story and symbolism, found joy in learning new forms and voices in literature. “Tinuruan ako ng workshop na ang pagsusulat ay hindi karera kundi paglalakbay,” she says. “Kapag nadama mo ang pag-agos ng diwa, yakapin mo ito hanggang sa maubos ang bawat patak ng ideyang nag-aalab sa iyo.” Through the guidance of the creative fiction mentor Xaña Angel Eve Apolinar, she began to better understand her own intuitive and soul-led writing

To Speak for a Place that Speaks Back

For Justine Paul Paraz, a BA Political Science student and poetry fellow from General Santos City, the stories he chose to tell weren’t just his own as they were shaped by the land and people that surrounded him. Growing up, Cotabato was often painted in the media as a place of fear and violence. But the moment he stepped into its heart through the workshop, that image dissolved. What he saw instead was the strength of the province where Christians, Moros, and Indigenous Peoples don’t just coexist, but they celebrate one another’s cultures. 

“Hindi ito melting pot, kapag nagme-melt kasi ang culture nagiging isa lang ang lasa, nawawala ang kanya-kanyang identity,” he says. “Mas angkop na ilarawan ang SOX bilang isang malaking mangkok ng halo-halo—iba-iba ang sangkap, bawat sarili may kulay, texture at lasa, pero kapag pinagsama, gumagana ito ng may harmony.” For Justine, this is what makes SOX so powerful.

In a moment during the workshop’s activity, “15 minutes of silence”, where time stood still, he felt how small he was—just one voice in a universe too vast to grasp. And yet, that smallness didn’t mean he had no place. “Na-realize ko,” he shares, “na literal lang pala akong microscopic na ant sa gitna ng galactic buffet ng universe… pero kailangan ko pa ring magsulat, mag-iwan ng bakas bilang iskolar ng bayan.” For Justine, the workshop wasn’t just about becoming a better poet, it was about becoming a better person. 

 Through his mentor John Dave Pacheco and co-fellow, he learned that writing is an act of representation, of resistance, and of becoming. And for other writers across SOX, he offers a challenge: to decolonize from the western thinking that to write in English means being superior, to embrace their own languages and truths, and to keep writing until the world finally feels like home.

“Mabuhay ang mga Writers ng SOX,” he stated.

Writing shouldn’t just be something we do, it should be something we become. To be a writer in the region, one doesn’t just narrate; they carry. They carry what’s been spoken, silenced, and what’s still finding its form. Because that’s how stories come, when we let ourselves feel deeply enough to finally speak about them.

The 2025 SOX Writers Workshop reminds us of the things no one writes down. To become a great writer is to gather fragments, scattered across dialects and distances—to hold them tenderly and turn them into stories everyone who needs them can consume. To make people across SOCCSKSARGEN pause and realize that the story was always ours to begin with.