Human+ Deep Dive · Issue 14

What We Hope For

A letter from the household professionals of the Philippines

We are the women and men who wake before your house wakes.

We fold the laundry you will wear to your meeting. We pack the baon your child will eat at school. We lock the door behind you when you leave, and we open it when you come home. There are more than a million of us in the Philippines.1 We work in your kitchens, in your nurseries, in the rooms where your parents are growing old. We have been here, in one form or another, for as long as there have been Filipino homes.

We are not asking for your sympathy. We are not asking to be saved.

We are asking, quietly, to be seen.

· · ·

This letter is written in many voices — from Cebu, from Davao, from Pampanga, from the towns in Bicol and the hills of Cordillera that sent us here. We came to Manila or to Pasay or to Quezon City because the work was here. Some of us send money home every fifteenth of the month. Some of us are raising our employer's children while our own children grow up without us. This is a fact. It is not a complaint. It is the shape of a life we chose, often without much choice.

We love this country. That is why we write.

The Philippines has given us a legal name now — kasambahay, the domestic worker — and a law to go with it: Republic Act 10361, the Domestic Workers Act. The law says we are entitled to a written contract. To a minimum wage. To a day of rest. To SSS, PhilHealth, Pag-IBIG. To paid service incentive leave after a year of service. To a thirteenth-month pay. To be free from harm.

The law is good. The law was hard-fought. We are grateful to the people who fought for it.

But a law is only paper until it is practiced. And so we want to tell you, in our own words, what we hope for. Not as a demand. Not as a grievance. As an offering. As Filipinos to Filipinos. As the people in your home to the people who let us in.

Here is what we hope for.

· · ·
Hope One

We hope to be seen.

Not noticed when something is missing. Not summoned when something is needed. Seen — the way you would see any other person in your home. Seen as someone with a mother, a name, a Sunday, a song we hum when no one is listening. The smallest dignity is also the largest one. Most days, this is all we are asking for.

Hope Two

We hope our children will choose this work freely, or not at all.

Many of us are second-generation kasambahay. Our mothers worked in homes like the one we work in now. We do not want our children to be forced into this work because there is nothing else. We want them to choose it because it is honest work, or to choose something else because they can. The dignity of the work is not separate from the freedom to leave it.

Hope Three

We hope to be paid what the law promises — on time, in full.

The law sets a minimum. We hope you will not treat the minimum as the goal. We hope payday will not be a conversation we have to start. We hope the SSS contributions you owe will be paid, not promised. We hope our pay slip, when we ask for one, will not be met with a sigh. The peso is not the whole of our hope. But it is where the hope begins.

Hope Four

We hope you will learn our names — and our parents' names.

Not "yaya" alone. Not "ate" when you have forgotten. Our name. The way your mother taught you to say it. And one day, perhaps, our mother's name too — because she is the reason we are here, sending money home, raising your child while she raises ours.

Hope Five

We hope you will be patient with us when we make mistakes.

Some of us did not finish school. Some of us never started. The reason was almost never that we did not want to learn — it was that there was no money for the uniform, or that the school was too far, or that someone needed to help in the field, or that the family chose the brother instead. When we come to your home, we are still learning. We are learning your appliances, your routines, your children's names, the way you like the rice cooked, the things that matter to you that no one ever taught us mattered. We will get some of these things wrong before we get them right.

We hope, when this happens, that you will teach us instead of shame us. We hope you will remember that a raised voice does not make instructions clearer — it only makes us afraid to ask the next question. We hope you will say it once, and then say it again kindly if we did not understand the first time. Most of us learn quickly when we are taught with patience. Almost none of us learn at all when we are taught with anger.

We are not asking to be excused from doing the work well. We are asking to be allowed the time it takes to learn it.

"A law is only paper until it is practiced."
Hope Six

We hope to rest on our rest day.

The Kasambahay Law gives us one day of rest each week. We hope this day will be ours. Not "ours unless the children need something." Not "ours unless guests are coming." Ours. Twenty-four hours in which we are not on call. One day a week to be the person we were before this work began — a daughter, a sister, a friend, a parishioner, a Filipino in our own right.

Hope Seven

We hope to be sick without fear.

When the fever comes, we hope to be allowed to lie down. When the cough does not leave, we hope you will let us see a doctor — the way you would for your own family. PhilHealth is a right, not a favor. Paid service incentive leave, after one year of service, is a right under the law. We hope no one in your home will ever have to choose between their wages and their lungs.

Hope Eight

We hope our agreement will be written down.

A contract is not distrust. A contract is the shape of a clear conscience — for both of us. When the terms are written, no one has to remember differently. When the wage is written, no one has to argue. We hope every household in the Philippines will sign one, and keep it, and refer to it when memory grows blurred. The law requires it. We hope the law is enough.

Hope Nine

We hope our voices will be safe.

When something is wrong, we hope we can say so without losing our place. When the work has grown too heavy, we hope a conversation is possible. When something is hurting us, we hope there is someone to call — a hotline, a barangay, a DOLE office, an agency — that will answer, and that will not punish us for answering. Silence is not consent. It is sometimes only fear, dressed in good manners.

Hope Ten

We hope our work will be counted as work.

Cooking is work. Cleaning is work. Caring for a child is work. Caring for a parent in their last years is among the hardest work there is. None of this is "just helping out." None of this is something a woman should be expected to do for free because she is a woman. We hope our country will keep saying this, in laws and in living rooms, until the saying is no longer needed.

Hope Eleven

We hope to grow old in our own homes.

Many of us came to the city young. We hope we will not still be here when we are old. We hope the SSS we paid into and the homes we left behind will both be waiting. We hope our country will let us return — not as a defeat, but as a homecoming.

Hope Twelve

We hope our country will see us.

Not only on Labor Day. Not only when a story is sad enough to make the news. We hope to be counted in the data. We hope to be named in the laws. We hope to be remembered when policies are written about families, and homes, and the cost of living. There are more than a million of us. We are not invisible. We have only been treated as if we were.

Hope Thirteen

We hope this country will keep loving us, the way we have loved it.

We have raised its children. We have cared for its elders. We have kept its homes clean and its meals on the table while the rest of the country went to work. We have done this for generations, often without thanks. We did it anyway. We will keep doing it. Not because we have to. Because we love this country, and the people in it, and the families who became our families. We hope the country will love us back.

· · ·

If you are an employer reading this, you do not need a program to begin.

You can begin tomorrow. Pay on time. Sign a contract. Remit SSS, PhilHealth, and Pag-IBIG. Use our names. Let the rest day be a rest day. Notice when we are tired. Ask, sometimes, how our family is doing. The law has already drawn the line. We are only asking that the line be drawn a little softer than it has to be — in the direction of kindness, and consistency, and ordinary respect.

This is not a high standard. It is the floor.

We are writing because we believe most Filipino employers want to meet that standard. We are writing because the conversation about household work in the Philippines has been about employers for too long. It is our turn to speak.

Thank you for reading. Thank you, in advance, for what you will do tomorrow.

Mahal namin ang Pilipinas.

We love the Philippines.

We hope, one day, the love will go both ways.

Questions employers often ask

What does Republic Act 10361 actually require of me?

RA 10361, the Domestic Workers Act or Batas Kasambahay, requires every household employer to provide a written employment contract, the regional minimum wage, one day of rest per week, SSS, PhilHealth and Pag-IBIG coverage, five days of paid service incentive leave per year (after one year of continuous service), thirteenth-month pay, and a safe and humane working environment. For SSS specifically: if the kasambahay earns below ₱5,000 per month, the employer pays the entire contribution. At ₱5,000 and above, the SSS contribution is shared between employer and kasambahay following the current SSS contribution table, with the Employees' Compensation premium paid by the employer in all cases. PhilHealth and Pag-IBIG follow their own separate contribution rules, which employers should verify with each agency. These are legal minimums, not employer favors.

Is the kasambahay's rest day really mandatory?

Yes. The law guarantees one full day of rest per week, and the day should be agreed in writing between employer and kasambahay. The rest day is not contingent on whether the household needs help that day. Compensation in lieu of a missed rest day is permitted only by mutual written agreement, not as a default.

What is the difference between yaya, kasambahay, and household professional?

"Yaya" traditionally refers to a childcare worker. "Kasambahay" is the legal term used in RA 10361 for any domestic worker employed in a household. "Household professional" is the modern, dignity-forward term used by agencies and advocates to reflect that domestic work is skilled, trained, and professional labor — not informal help.

How do I know if my agency is treating my kasambahay fairly?

A licensed agency should provide a written employment contract, document remittance of SSS, PhilHealth, and Pag-IBIG contributions, pay at or above the regional minimum wage, and offer a clear channel for the kasambahay to raise concerns without fear. Ask your agency for documentation of these practices. Reputable agencies will provide them without hesitation.

What can I do tomorrow to be a better employer?

Sign a written contract if you have not already. Pay on or before the agreed date, every time. Remit SSS, PhilHealth, and Pag-IBIG. Honor the rest day fully. Use the kasambahay's name. Ask, occasionally, how their family is doing. None of these require additional cost. All of them require only consistency.

Where can I report a violation of the Kasambahay Law?

Labor-related kasambahay disputes should be elevated to the Department of Labor and Employment (DOLE) Regional Office with jurisdiction, which is required to exhaust conciliation and mediation efforts under RA 10361. For immediate safety concerns, barangay officials, the Department of Social Welfare and Development (DSWD), or law enforcement may also be approached depending on the situation. Licensed staffing agencies should provide their own grievance channels in addition to public ones.

How should I correct my kasambahay when she makes a mistake?

Calmly, clearly, and once. Many kasambahay have had limited access to formal schooling and may be unfamiliar with appliances, cooking methods, or routines that feel obvious to you. Show rather than scold. Demonstrate the task, explain why it matters to your household, and invite questions. Raised voices teach fear, not skill. A patient correction the first time prevents the same mistake the second time. If a pattern of repeated errors persists despite clear instruction, escalate the conversation through your agency or HR partner, not through anger at home.

Sources & Verification
  1. Population figure: Department of Labor and Employment & Philippine Statistics Authority joint survey reported approximately 1.4 million household service workers in the Philippines (2019). The conservative claim of "more than a million" is supported by this figure.
  2. Republic Act 10361 (Batas Kasambahay) full text: Philippine Commission on Women.
  3. SSS coverage and contributions for kasambahay (15% of MSC, employer/employee split, ₱5,000 threshold): Social Security System — Kasambahay.
  4. PhilHealth contributions for kasambahay: Philippine Health Insurance Corporation.
  5. Pag-IBIG (Home Development Mutual Fund) contributions: Pag-IBIG Fund.
  6. Filing labor complaints and the Single Entry Approach (SEnA): Department of Labor and Employment.

HUMAN+ DEEP DIVE · ISSUE 14

Published by MaidProvider.ph · DOLE PEA License M-24-04-034

Roof Deck & 3A, 1710 Donada St., Pasay City, Metro Manila

This letter was written by MaidProvider.ph in dialogue with the household professionals we work with every day. It is offered freely, without paywall, in service of every Filipino household, every kasambahay, and every employer who wants to do better.

This article is for public education and editorial advocacy. It is not legal advice. Employers should verify current wage orders and contribution tables with DOLE, SSS, PhilHealth, and Pag-IBIG before acting on the information above.

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