The internet loves speed. It reacts before it reflects, comments before it understands. When Rabiya Mateo, a Miss Universe Philippines 2020, that once represented Iloilo, spoke honestly about her mental health, the nation had a chance to slow down and listen. Instead, many chose to scroll, scoff, and strike. Her revelation that she has been diagnosed with major depressive disorder with anxious distress came after years of quietly surviving and after a wave of online ridicule over a simple Facebook post asking, “Iloilo na! Where to eat?” One careless remark followed, questioning whether she was even truly from Iloilo. In a few words, a person’s identity was put on trial.
This is how cruelty thrives online. It does not always shout. More often, it whispers through sarcasm, mockery, or comments brushed off as jokes. But words do not disappear once posted. They settle into the mind of the person reading them. They replay. They deepen doubts. And for someone already carrying invisible pain, they can cut far deeper than we imagine.
Rabiya’s story matters not because she once wore a crown, but because she reminds us that no amount of success makes a person immune to hurt. If someone admired, accomplished, and publicly celebrated can be pushed to breaking point by constant judgment, what about ordinary people with no platform, no following, and no support system? Social media has given everyone a voice, but it has also weakened our sense of accountability.
There is a particular cruelty in questioning where someone belongs. Rabiya is from Iloilo City, with roots in Balasan. Still, strangers felt entitled to strip her of that identity over phrasing alone. This fixation on accents, wording, and imagined authenticity exposes a culture that treats humiliation as entertainment. We forget that behind every post is a real person with a fragile mind and a heart that can only endure so much.
Mental health awareness often ends with the phrase “be kind,” as if kindness were optional or abstract. It is not. Kindness is restraint. It is choosing silence over a comment that offers nothing but harm. It is remembering that depression does not always look like despair. Sometimes it looks like confidence, success, and a smiling face.
Rabiya did not speak up to seek pity. She spoke to draw a boundary and to say that bullying has consequences. Her honesty challenges us to examine ourselves. Before typing, we must ask: does this need to be said? Does it help anyone? Will it wound someone?
Because words are never harmless. Once released, they carry weight. And sometimes, they can kill.
