From the Philippines to Cavan: What my journey taught me about belonging and voice

Opinion

Vanda Brady

When I first arrived in Ireland ten years ago, I wasn't alone. I came with my husband Shane and our two toddlers Charlie and Guia, hearts full of hope, and the anticipation of a home still being built in Mullahoran, Shane's rural parish in County Cavan.

We had come from the UK, where I had already experienced the challenges of starting over. But Ireland was a new chapter - a quieter one, full of possibility, uncertainty, and unfamiliar rhythms.

Back home in the Philippines, community was a way of life. The UK taught me adaptability, resilience, and how to observe and listen in new spaces. But it was in Ireland, in those early days of adjusting to life in Mullahoran where I was the only person who looked or sounded like me, that I began learning the deeper meaning of belonging.

At first, I focused on my family, staying quietly in the background as we settled in. But over time, I realised that being unseen wasn't the same as being safe. And more importantly, it wasn't the same as being fulfilled. I missed the power of connection, of shared stories, of cultural exchange.

So I took a step forward. From those first community meetings to organising large scale embassy events and cultural gatherings in the border region, I found myself building bridges. I didn't plan it - it happened because I could see how much people needed spaces to come together, to be heard, and to feel part of something. I didn't have all the answers. I just knew how to listen.

I've since worked across a range of roles - from communications and translation to Commissioner for Oaths, radio presenting and community facilitation. In each one, I've tried to centre stories.

Stories help us understand one another. They remind us that everyone carries something we can learn from.

Hosting a weekly radio show that shares the journeys of people who have made Ireland their home has been one of the most rewarding parts of my work. It's not always the headlines that matter - it's the quiet truths. The courage it takes to begin again. The love behind every sacrifice. The joy in finding small pieces of home in unexpected places.

Over the years, I've been humbled by opportunities to contribute to projects that celebrate diversity and connection. I've met people from all walks of life-locals, newcomers, neighbours turned friends-who share a common desire: to live with dignity and to belong.

Along the way, I've also been honoured to receive recognition for this work. Being named one of the Women of Ireland by the Irish Examiner, receiving a Social Inclusion Award from the Cathaoirleach of Cavan County Council, and being awarded a Presidential Award from the Philippine Government for my contribution to the Filipino diaspora, were deeply meaningful. Not because they define the work, but because they reflect the quiet persistence behind it. They are reminders that stories, when shared with care, can travel far.

I often think of the younger version of myself, standing in a new country with young children and big questions. I would tell her now that belonging is not something handed to you. It's something you slowly grow - through showing up, speaking gently, and staying true to who you are.

And to anyone else starting over-whether in a new town, a new job, or a new country I would say this: your presence matters. Your story has a place. You don't have to shout to be heard.

Sometimes, it's the quiet voices that echo the longest.

My journey has taken me from the Philippines to the UK, and from there to the countryside of Mullahoran in Cavan. Each step shaped me. Each community gave me something to carry forward. And each challenge along the way helped me see that what connects us is far stronger than what divides us. It just shows that wherever I am planted, I find ways to bloom.

Belonging is a shared effort. It grows in kindness in listening, and in the spaces we create for one another.