Wings may break, but Frenchie Mae Cumpio’s flight lives beyond the cage

A bird knows no borders.

Only the endless expanse of sky where wind and sunlight draw invisible paths. It does not ask permission to cross rivers or mountains as its song drifts freely, unclaimed by cages, and unbroken by walls. In that vastness, freedom feels eternal.

Five years ago, Frenchie Mae Cumpio was once that bird who soared fearless and unbound with a voice that rang sharp and clear. She was the kind to turn whispers into words and silences into songs. Driven by a burning desire to serve the people, she carried stories of struggle, survival, and hope on her wings. 

When the bird still flew

Frenchie is one of the brave birds who carried stories across skies where few dared to fly. Her wings spread wide over the Eastern Visayas, bringing voices from the margins into the light. 

Before she was a name on global press freedom lists, Frenchie was a BS Biology student at University of the Philippines – Tacloban Campus. However, instead of dissecting organisms, she found herself dissecting society. 

Her passion for words eclipsed the microscope — she became editor-in-chief of UP Vista, the official student publication of UP Tacloban, and discovered that journalism was her calling. She eventually left her degree unfinished to pursue what she believed mattered most: carrying songs from cages into open skies.

In 2018, Frenchie became a member of Altermidya, a national network of alternative media. Around the same time, she rose to become the executive director of Eastern Vista, an independent media outlet in Tacloban that focused on stories often ignored by mainstream news. She also became a radio broadcaster for DYVL Aksyon Radyo, where her sharp and fearless commentary cut through the airwaves like a bird’s cry against the wind.

Her reporting sang of truth, which includes the stories of Typhoon Yolanda survivors, of farmers in Samar defending their land, and of human rights violations in remote barangays. These were not gentle lullabies but were bold anthems that unsettled those in power.

By late 2019, shadows began to stalk her steps. As brave as she was, she was not invincible. 

She was red-tagged and branded as a rebel sympathizer. Surveillance tightened, men loitered outside her office, and one barged in with her photo in hand, demanding to know where she was. Then came the most chilling message: a funeral wreath delivered to Eastern Vista’s newsroom — a silent omen that the skies she loved might soon be caged.

However, Frenchie did not fold. She kept flying by writing, broadcasting, and speaking truths that mattered. For a moment, the bird still flew, soaring high even as the cage loomed on the horizon.

When the cage closes

As fearless as she was, the bird that once soared freely now felt the cold shadow of chains curling around her wings. The melody that once rang clear across radios and web pages trembled, threatened by a silence it had never known before.

On February 7, 2020, in the stillness of the pre-dawn, authorities raided Tacloban City, Leyte. Frenchie, along with four fellow activists, later known as the “Tacloban 5,” was arrested. 

The operation claimed the discovery of firearms and explosives, yet human rights organizations, including Reporters Without Borders (RSF) and the Committee to Protect Journalists (CPJ), have flagged the evidence as allegedly planted and part of a pattern of harassment against independent media.

Yet, even in confinement, the spirit of her flight persisted. Smuggled letters carried her words beyond the bars, and waves of solidarity from press advocates and international watchdogs ensured her song was never fully silenced. 

Still, the iron is cold, the nights unbearably long, and the freedom she once knew now feels like a fading horizon. In this era, speaking truth comes with a price far heavier than most dare to imagine.

Clipped wings with more chains

But this was only the beginning as her case spiraled into a series of accusations over the next few years. In July 2021, she was accused once again of financing terrorism, this time linked to money found during a raid on her home. 

A year later, in 2022, they went even further, accusing her of aiding the Communist Party’s New People’s Army. Each accusation was another attempt to bury her voice, to silence the reporter who had spent her career exposing corruption and injustice. But the more they tried, the tougher she became. 

Things grew even more desperate when the Anti-Money Laundering Council seized her assets, alleging that the P557,360 found during the raid was intended to fund the New People’s Army, as if taking away her belongings could take away her voice. 

Five long and difficult years later, Frenchie has remained inside the Tacloban City Jail, a cramped facility far from the fields and shores she once reported on, a place meant for 187 people, yet packed with over 500. The overcrowding is staggering, with prisoners confined to spaces five times smaller than the UN’s international standards. It is not just the space that’s suffocating, but also the lack of basic care, where Frenchie was denied when she fell ill with respiratory problems.

Visits from family are rare and heavily monitored. Even her communication with lawyers has been restricted at times, with hearings postponed over and over. 

It was only on November 11, 2024 — nearly four years after her arrest — that she was finally allowed to testify in court for the first time. UN Special Rapporteur Irene Khan expressed alarm at the “unjustifiably long detention,” warning that such delays raise questions about due process.

Inside the courtroom that day, the air felt heavier than the iron chains on her wrists. For Frenchie, it was about reclaiming the voice that had been muffled for nearly half a decade, and it seemed that her voice is made to be silenced for even a longer time.

The road towards it just remains blocked, even when the UN and the Commission on Human Rights (CHR) also called for justice. For now, Frenchie’s wings remain clipped, but her voice continues to transcend borders. 

Will the cage ever open? 

Though the cage may hold her body, it can never cage her spirit.

Frenchie’s voice, once as free as a bird, now fights to be heard through the cracks in the walls. She became a beacon for everyone whose truth gets buried: a reminder that the fight for justice does not fade, no matter how distant it may feel.

When the Anti-Terrorism Act passed, it was not just a law; it was a weapon aimed straight at free speech. For Frenchie, that moment marked everything changing. The stories she once told so freely, stories that brought truth to the masses, became the very reason she was arrested.

Even behind bars, her voice still resonates. It echoes through the walls, amplified by those who refuse to let her story fade. Organizations like Reporters Without Borders and the CPJ have been at the forefront, pushing for her freedom. 

This fight is not hers alone. It is all of ours, the ones who still believe in speaking out, in standing for what’s right, and in still believing in the power of truth — to actually set people free. 

In a country where freedom of the press is increasingly at risk, despite improving to 116th out of 180 in the global Press Freedom Index, Frenchie’s story serves as a wake-up call for every journalist and for every Filipino. It reminds us of what is at stake and what can happen if we stop speaking.

So, will the cage ever open? Maybe not today. But one thing is for sure: her wings may be clipped, but her voice will never be silenced.

The bird that can’t be caged

So, when you hear her name or read her story, do not just see Frenchie Mae Cumpio as a journalist or another victim of injustice.

See her as a voice that refuses to be silenced. A bird, whose wings may be clipped, but whose song of truth rings louder than ever, undaunted by the walls that try to hold her down, finding its way through the cracks in iron bars, carried by those who refuse to let it be forgotten. The stories she shared were never just hers — they belong to every soul whose truth was buried, to every voice that was silenced.

Frenchie’s story stretches beyond the bars of her cell, like the wind that doesn’t ask for permission to cross borders, like the sky that knows no limits.

When the cage finally opens, when Frenchie’s wings unfurl once more, it will not just be her flight we witness — it will be the flight of every voice stifled, every truth denied, every person who ever dared to fight for what’s right.

When her song rises again, it will be louder, stronger, and more powerful than ever. Because some voices, no matter how fiercely the world tries to silence them, were always meant to soar.