Losing CMFR feels a lot like losing a home.

By Penzer Baterna 

I’ve seen many posts about the closure of the Center for Media Freedom and Responsibility (CMFR), and what it means to Philippine journalism.

But to me, it is deeply personal.

Losing CMFR feels a lot like losing a home.

For over 13 years, the center has been the foundation of everything I’ve built in my career. I joined CMFR simply wanting a job experience that would look good on my resume. Never intended to stay because, as a young adult from the Visayas, the goal was to eventually go mainstream.

But a rocky love-hate relationship with my superior during my early years at the organization challenged me to prove my worth as a staff writer. What started as a constant need to prove myself turned into a genuine appreciation for the work and a deeper understanding of why it mattered.

Before I even realized it, I had become deeply involved in its advocacy — tracking threats and attacks against journalists, assessing news reports on various issues, and conducting comprehensive research on media coverage.

CMFR opened doors for me to travel across the Philippines and the world, expand my network, and meet incredible people. But most importantly, it gave me a space to discover stories that I would often draw inspiration from for my own creative side hustles.

Over the years, I built relationships with my colleagues and my bosses. Work no longer felt like work. The office had become a home, and the staff had become my family.

When people ask me how I feel about the closure, I tell them I’m fine. I already knew months prior, so I had time to process everything.

The truth is, it hurts.

Imagine waking up one morning and realizing you are no longer doing the work that defined your life for more than a decade. It’s the abrupt end of a 13-year relationship, and it’s going to take time to truly move on.

There is nothing I can do about its folding. CMFR tried, and I’d like to believe we — especially our boss, Ma’am Melinda Quintos De Jesus — did everything we could to keep it going.

To many, CMFR may be viewed as a lesson learned or a valued organization that should have lasted, but unfortunately didn’t.  But to me, it will always be a home I am forever grateful to have been a part of.

So here’s to the memories, the lessons, the people, the stories, and the years that CMFR gave me.

Closing this chapter with a bittersweet “cheers” to that home.