The clink of silver against porcelain at Circles in Shangri-La Makati felt worlds away from the quiet of my office in Tokyo’s Ark Hills. Across from me, Marianne “Chiquette” Dalumpines Tanizaki stirred her black coffee. 

She looked like any other grandmother enjoying a quiet morning in Manila — small, soft-spoken, almost easy to overlook. But when she began talking about her “cases” — the battered mother and child she picked up at 2 am in Yokohama, the bilog (undocumented worker) she took in when he had nowhere else to go, and the entrepreneur sued in a Japanese court whom she assisted — I realized she was not just any grandmother, but someone who quietly devotes her life to helping Filipinos in trouble in Japan.

As I listened to her stories in that familiar Ilongga lilt, I was reminded of Marilou sensei, the first Filipina who looked out for me when I arrived in Shizuoka. Marilou sensei brought me along to her English classes, helped me land my first arubaito (part-time job), and taught me how to survive in a place where everything was new. By day, she taught at the local university; by night and on weekends, she slipped into police stations and courtrooms as a Tagalog interpreter, helping Filipinos who had run out of luck, language, and options. Women like her and Chiquette laid the groundwork for people like us. 

Long before NGOs and formal support networks existed, there were women like Marilou sensei and Chiquette. They stepped in when no one else could, making sure our kababayans (countrymen) did not disappear into the cracks of the Japanese justice system. Listening to Chiquette that morning, I realized she was carrying forward the same quiet thread of service that women like Marilou sensei had been weaving for decades.

A life of service

Chiquette is turning 72 this year. Her life has essentially mirrored the long, slow healing between our two countries.  

Her lifelong commitment to service began as a young volunteer at the La Ignaciana Apostolic Center, a Jesuit spiritual and social center in Manila. Later she founded the PagAalay ng Puso Foundation, Inc. (PPFI), through which she continues her sociocivic work for underserved communities in the Philippines. When she arrived in Japan in the late 80s, she joined a wide range of NGOs dedicated to migrant workers’ rights and to movements against domestic violence before eventually serving as executive director of the Maryknoll Philippine Center in Tokyo for almost two decades, assisting migrant workers and families facing social difficulties, including isolation and cultural barriers.

The weight of the Post-its

Lately, my work has brought me into Chiquette’s orbit. She is not a lawyer, but after decades of helping Filipinos navigate the Japanese and Philippine legal systems, she moves through various legal problems our kababayans face in Japan with the instinct of someone who has seen almost everything — shaped by years of working alongside legal luminaries like the late dean Merlin Magallona, former dean Danilo Concepcion, and Professor Ed Labitag of the UP College of Law organizing legal outreaches in Japan.

We recently met again at my office in Ark Hills. At 72, Chiquette still moves with the energy you’d expect from someone half her age, navigating bureaucracy, visiting offices, and carrying stories, heavier than any briefcase. As she began pulling out the stacks of documents from her bag, each marked with its own cluster of multicolored Post-its, the steady care she puts into every case became clear.

“Napakasipag niyo naman po (You’re so hardworking),” I said, looking at the mountain of paperwork. 

She paused. For a moment, the years of worry and responsibility flickered behind her eyes. “May mga gabi talaga, Ricky, na hindi na ako nakakatulog sa kaiisip (There are nights I really can’t sleep just thinking about them),” she said softly with a smile. 

It was clear she wasn’t losing sleep over forms or deadlines. She was thinking about the battered wives, the undocumented workers, and the children caught between two countries and two futures. 

To Chiquette, those folders aren’t “cases.” They are people she carries long after the office lights go out.

The symmetry of leadership

For decades, women like Chiquette did the quiet work on the ground. Today, their leadership is finally visible at the highest levels.

In Japan, Sanae Takaichi became Prime Minister in October 2025, the first woman to lead the long-dominant Liberal Democratic Party and to hold the country’s highest office. In a political landscape long shaped by men, her appointment marked a notable moment. Public reactions have varied, reflecting both the significance of her rise and the complexity of her longstanding positions. What is clear is that her leadership places a woman at the center of Japan’s government during an important year in Philippines–Japan relations.

On the Philippine side, Ambassador Mylene Garcia-Albano marks another milestone. A bar topnotcher and former legislator, she is the first Filipina to serve as the Philippines’ ambassador to Japan. Since arriving in Tokyo, she has focused on strengthening mental health initiatives and improving consular services for the nearly 350,000 Filipinos living across Japan. 

But her diplomacy does not stop at the embassy gates. Ambassador Mylene has actively reached out to the many sectors of the Filipino community in Japan — organizing various community events, hosting dinners, and supporting their activities. 

Even our consular posts reflect this shift. The Philippine Consulates General in Osaka (Donna Rodriguez) and Nagoya (Shirlene Mananquil) are now also led by women. It’s a beautiful symmetry that seventy years after the war, the relationship between our islands is managed by the same demographic that kept it alive when things were at their darkest.

The long walk home

Back in Ark Hills, as Chiquette tucked her files into her leather bag, I thought of Marilou sensei and the many women who carved paths when none existed. 

They are joined today by a new generation of Filipinas redefining our presence in Japan — women leaders of the Philippine Assistance Group including Evangeline Yamamoto and Mafe Santiago, journalists like Florenda Corpuz, chefs like Loida Ozaki and Mika Suzuki who bring Filipino flavors to Japanese tables, and performers like Beverly Caimen and jazz artist Marlene Dela Peña who carry our voice onto Japanese stages. (READ: Get to know Beverly Caimen, Japan’s Filipina singing sensation)

For 70 years, women like them have been the weavers of our shared history. They took the tangled threads of migration — fear, legal hurdles, and distance from home — and patiently wove them into stories of resilience and hard-won success.

Because of them, the distance between our islands no longer feels so wide. Over time, they have woven lives across the sea until the space between the Philippines and Japan began to feel less like a divide and more like home. – Rappler.com