LET me begin with a disclaimer. I have always been politically neutral, and readers of this column will know that I have never used this space to endorse politicians, political parties or ideologies. This column is no exception. My writing about Vice Ganda should not be construed as an endorsement of her political views or social positions. Rather, it is an appreciation of Vice Ganda as a communicator — one of the finest, in my view, in contemporary Philippine popular culture. Whether one agrees with everything she says is beside the point. What interests me as a linguist is how she says it.
This reflection was inspired by Vice Ganda’s commencement address delivered during the 2026 Academic Recognition Rites of the University of the Philippines Diliman College of Media and Communication. Speaking before graduates who are about to enter professions centered on communication, she challenged them to use their voices not simply to earn a living but to stand for truth, justice and change. It was a fitting message for future journalists, broadcasters, filmmakers, advertisers and communication practitioners whose words and images will shape public opinion for years to come.
What struck me most about the speech was not its political undertones but its humanity. Vice Ganda spoke candidly about her journey — from growing up in poverty to becoming one of the country’s most successful entertainers. She also reflected on her experience as a member of a sexual minority, recalling how society often marginalized people like her. Yet there was no trace of self-pity in her narrative. Instead, there was gratitude, resilience and a profound awareness that success is rarely as straightforward as many motivational speeches make it appear.
One of the most refreshing moments in the address came when she challenged the popular belief that talent and hard work always guarantee success. They certainly matter, she argued, but they are not always enough. Countless people are gifted. Countless people work tirelessly. Yet many never receive the opportunities they deserve. In acknowledging that her own perseverance was accompanied by good fortune, she was not diminishing the value of hard work. Rather, she was recognizing an uncomfortable reality: Life is often unfair. Success depends not only on personal effort but also on circumstances beyond one’s control. That recognition, I believe, should make successful people more grateful and society more compassionate.
As compelling as the message itself was, I found myself paying closer attention to something else — the remarkable way Vice Ganda communicates. Comedy is often dismissed as light entertainment. We laugh, we move on, and we rarely stop to consider the sophisticated linguistic work taking place beneath the jokes. Yet humor is one of the most effective forms of persuasion. It lowers our defenses. It invites rather than compels. It allows audiences to confront uncomfortable truths without immediately becoming defensive. In other words, humor creates a space where serious conversations can happen.
Vice Ganda understands this instinctively. For years, she has transformed “It’s Showtime” into more than a noontime variety program. Beyond the games, performances and celebrity interviews lies a platform where contemporary social issues frequently surface. Whether the subject is poverty, inequality, discrimination, politics or everyday Filipino struggles, Vice Ganda often frames these conversations through wit, exaggeration, irony and storytelling. The audience laughs first. Reflection comes afterward.
That, to me, is the hallmark of an exceptional communicator. Linguists have long argued that language does not merely describe reality; it also shapes it. Every joke carries assumptions. Every story constructs identities. Every metaphor invites audiences to see the world differently. Comedy, therefore, is not the opposite of seriousness. It is often one of its most persuasive forms.
Vice Ganda’s commencement speech demonstrated precisely this communicative artistry. She moved seamlessly between humor and sincerity, between playful banter and profound reflection. She employed hyperbole not simply to entertain but to emphasize. She used self-deprecating humor to establish solidarity with her audience. She narrated personal experiences not to celebrate herself but to illuminate broader social realities. Without sounding preachy, she challenged graduates to think critically about the kind of communicators they wished to become.
There is an important lesson here for all of us who study language. Communication is not merely about speaking correctly or writing elegantly. It is about under standing audiences. It is about recognizing when humor communicates more effectively than argument, when a story persuades more powerfully than statistics, and when laughter opens hearts that reason alone cannot reach.
This is why Vice Ganda deserves serious attention — not only from entertainment critics but also from scholars of language and communication. She reminds us that public discourse does not occur only in legislatures, universities, newspapers or academic conferences. It also unfolds on television stages, social media platforms and noontime variety shows watched by millions of Filipinos every day. Popular culture is not peripheral to public life; it is one of its most influential arenas.
Whether one agrees with every position Vice Ganda takes is ultimately a matter of personal conviction. That is the nature of democratic societies. What should be beyond dispute, however, is her extraordinary command of language. She has mastered the rare ability to entertain without becoming trivial, to provoke without becoming hostile and to educate without sounding didactic.
Perhaps that is the enduring lesson of her address to the graduates of the UP College of Media and Communication. Language is never merely a collection of words. In the hands of a gifted communicator, it becomes a tool for empathy, a vehicle for truth and an instrument of social reflection. Vice Ganda’s greatest performance, therefore, may not simply be making Filipinos laugh. It is making them think while they are laughing.
Ariane Macalinga Borlongan is a public intellectual, language scholar and migrant advocate. He is one of the leading researchers on English in the Philippines and one of the pioneers of migration linguistics. He is the youngest to earn a doctorate in linguistics, at age 23, from De La Salle University, and has had several teaching and research positions in Germany, Japan, Malaysia, the Philippines, Poland and Singapore. He is currently associate professor of sociolinguistics at the Tokyo University of Foreign Studies
