Misogyny has always had a peculiar sense of humor. It often arrives disguised as a joke, followed quickly by the familiar line: “Relax, it was just a joke.”

For generations, sexist remarks have survived this way – wrapped neatly in humor, delivered with a grin, and defended as harmless banter.

The country often prides itself on being progressive when it comes to women. After all, it has had female presidents, women in leadership positions, and women dominating universities and professional fields. Yet even with that progress, casual objectification manages to survive, sometimes even in the halls of power.

Which brings us to the recent controversy involving Filipina actress and model Anne Curtis and remarks made by Bong Suntay, a Quezon City representative, during a congressional hearing related to the impeachment proceedings against Vice President Sara Duterte. Yes, a government hearing—where laws are debated, policies are discussed, and apparently, sexualized comments about women occasionally make a guest appearance.

It seems that efficiency is not the only thing Congress struggles with.

During the hearing, Suntay recalled seeing Curtis and said that he felt a sudden desire, stating, “May desire sa loob ko na nag-init talaga at na-imagine ko na lang kung ano’ng pwedeng mangyari,” before adding that surely he could not be charged for his imagination.

The remark sparked backlash, as it should have. Suntay later issued an apology, explaining that his statement had merely been an analogy about imagination. According to him, the comment was not meant to offend but to illustrate a point about how people can imagine things without necessarily acting on them.

In other words, the classic defense appeared right on cue. It wasn’t serious, it was misunderstood, it was only a figure of speech.

Quite the convenient system.

Some people still believe that how a woman dresses is a message directed at men, as if a skirt, a crop top, or simple confidence is an invitation for commentary.

Flash news: it isn’t. A woman’s outfit is not a public survey asking for opinions.

Part of the reason this behavior persists lies in the expectations society places on women. Filipino culture has long carried a very specific image of the ideal woman: the dalagang Filipina—modest, polite, composed, and always mindful of how she presents herself. But that image comes with contradictions that are nearly impossible to navigate.

Women are expected to be beautiful, but not too aware of it. Smart, but not intimidating. Ambitious, but still humble enough to keep everyone comfortable.

If a woman fails to meet beauty standards, insults come easily, often disguised as jokes or “honest opinions.” But if she does meet those standards, she is suddenly labeled malandi, attention-seeking, or accused of trying too hard.

In other words: be impressive, but not threatening.

Maybe somewhere between those lines lies the mythical “acceptable woman,” a standard society constantly demands but never clearly defines.

Even in spaces where women are highly visible, like entertainment and social media, the same contradictions apply. Actresses, influencers, and performers often participate in glamorous aesthetics that attract attention. But the deeper question is rarely asked: why did that dynamic develop in the first place? Why is female desirability such a powerful currency in media? Why has society normalized the idea that a woman’s value is closely tied to how appealing she is to men?

Entertainment did not invent that mindset. It simply reflects it.

And so the commentary continues. The opinions are constant, unsolicited, and often delivered with the confidence of someone who believes the world asked for them.

What is astonishing is not that this behavior exists, but how normalized it has become.

Catcalls are brushed off as admiration. Sexualized remarks are reframed as humor. Objectification becomes part of everyday conversation.

Suddenly, the woman who speaks up becomes the problem. The killjoy. The person who “can’t take a joke.”

But that reaction reveals the truth, that misogyny survives not because it is clever, but because it is tolerated.

Feminist movements have spent decades challenging this reality, insisting that women deserve respect not just in policy but in everyday interactions. Slowly, that resistance is becoming louder. The difference today is not that misogyny has disappeared, it is far from that. The difference is that fewer women are willing to laugh along.

And when apologies follow misogynistic remarks, they often sound less like accountability and more like damage control. Because misogyny does not only appear in dramatic headlines; it thrives in everyday habits, in the jokes we excuse, the comments we ignore, and the expectations we quietly accept.

The fight for women’s rights, after all, is not something that happens once in history. It happens every day, whenever someone decides the joke has gone on long enough.

Column by Marinelle Echano