By The Sunriser
It was a spectacle few could miss—Raisa Treñas-Chu, former executive assistant to the mayor, stood confidently at the 100-day countdown of the Dinagyang Festival, delivering a speech on behalf of her father, Mayor Jerry Treñas.
The catch?
She had already resigned from her post, and yet there she was, declaring the festival’s opening with the pomp and authority of an official city representative.
“By the power vested in me by the city mayor of Iloilo City, I now declare the Dinagyang Festival open,” she proclaimed.
But there was one glaring problem—Vice Mayor Jeffrey Ganzon, the acting mayor, stood by, largely overshadowed by this curious display of what could only be described as familial overreach.
It begs the question: in what official capacity was Raisa Treñas-Chu there? As the “first daughter” of Iloilo City? As the “anointed one” of City Hall?
Or perhaps, dare we say, by divine decree—heaven’s mandate, bestowed on the chosen few who inherit positions not by election but by relation?
This controversy has not gone unnoticed, especially by sharp-eyed Ilonggos on social media. One Facebook user quipped, “Kita mo lang gid nag mato mato cya ya ka deklarar daw magahum na sila diri.” Others were quick to point out what appears to be a lapse in decorum and legal propriety. “Diutay man b nga delikadesa bisan indi ka pa resigned kon exec asst ka sg office ni Mayor may mga City officials ang dapat mag declare sg opening countdown,” said another netizen, a not-so-subtle jab at Raisa’s eagerness to step into the limelight.
If acting Mayor Ganzon was present, as he was, what does that say about the city’s leadership dynamics? Was his role merely symbolic, a stand-in until Raisa can resume her unofficial duties, or worse, is he being slowly relegated to the role of a political understudy? The optics of it all certainly suggest so. Ganzon, after all, was in attendance, yet seemed to be a spectator in a show where he should have been the main character.
While Raisa’s declaration was bold, it raises a fundamental question about governance and the separation of public service and family ties. The city of Iloilo is not a dynastic monarchy, yet the staging of this public event seemed like a coronation of sorts—only without the crown or formal decree.
Some defenders might argue that Raisa’s presence is a continuation of the mayor’s vision, an extension of his administration, and nothing more. After all, she’s simply ensuring that the show goes on, right? But the problem is not just about her resignation or her speech. It’s about what it symbolizes: the seamless blending of family loyalty and political power. And in a democracy, that blending should not be seamless at all.
To add salt to the wound, Raisa’s father, Mayor Treñas, could easily have sent his message through the acting mayor, thus maintaining the integrity of official channels and respecting the authority of those still serving in government. Instead, Raisa’s front-and-center role suggests that certain privileges are reserved for those with the right last name.
In the grand scheme of Iloilo politics, this event may seem minor, a hiccup in an otherwise stable administration. But it raises critical issues about power, privilege, and public trust. Acting Mayor Ganzon may be the official in charge on paper, but this episode demonstrates just how thin that authority is when overshadowed by familial influence.
As we approach the 2025 elections, the people of Iloilo must decide whether this kind of political theater is what they want to endorse. Raisa may have resigned, but her continued presence in city affairs indicates that her influence—and that of her family—remains as strong as ever. The question is whether that influence serves the city or merely serves itself.
