Narry Hernandez’s tale in UP began with a love story.

In 1996, Narry visited UP Diliman for the first time upon the invitation of her significant other, a man named Guillermo. They crossed paths at Fiesta Carnival in Cubao, where Guillermo approached her to ask for her number. The acacia trees surrounding Sunken Garden bore witness to the two’s intimate and simple dates. After some time, they started living together inside the campus at Village A. 

That same year, Narry made a living selling newspapers and cigarettes using makeshift wooden carts near the Main Library. She was also helping the pursuits of Samahang Manininda ng UP Campus Inc. where she eventually made historic strides as a trans woman who was elected president for consecutive years from 2002 to 2007, and 2019 until now. 

Although Narry and Guillermo’s relationship ended after nine years, the love that drove her in the university burgeoned in other forms, taking deep root in the community.  At a time when commercialization increasingly disenfranchises vendors, hers is a love expressed as an emancipatory practice. 

“Kung hindi dahil sa pagmamahal noon, baka hindi ako naging isang leader ng organisasyon,” she said.

Driven by this liberatory thrust, a trans woman now stands unwavering in the forefront of a campaign that eschews corporate dominance in the university. 

Liberating Love

Narry, 54, is the eldest of four siblings. They grew up in a life of indigence in Batangas, her mother Angelita Hernandez shared. Angelita was a vendor herself, peddling puto and other food, while her husband worked overseas for a short time. 

Leading by example, Angelita’s toil comes with the value of care she inculcates among her children. This commitment to unconditional love may underlie why, despite constantly invoking God and religion, Angelita did not waste a second to affirm that she accepts Narry’s gender identity when asked. 

Narry said she had clues of being trans and attracted to boys as early as elementary. She first felt fondness wearing dresses and make-up when she was assigned to portray a gay role in their grade 6 play. In a show of support that Narry recalled tenderly, her gay friend helped her by delivering her attire. She continued this expression while taking technical courses.

Contrary to the support that once welcomed Narry, instances of discrimination bedeviled her there. Others would look at her in ridicule whenever she dressed femininely and hurled insults such as “salot sa lipunan.” At times, she found herself crying and rinsing off her face in the comfort room. “Kung tutuusin, mas maganda [naman] ako sa kanila,” Narry joked in a bid to console herself.

Narry, all smiles, narrates how she copes with the discriminatory remarks hurled against her: either by telling herself she is prettier than her taunters or by befriending them later on. (Lorence Lozano/Philippine Collegian) 

This comfort was soon provided by another when she met Guillermo, who accepted her for who she is. The lovers would always spend time in UP Diliman—too often that Narry eventually left her work in Superior Packaging Corporation, moved to the campus, and started her journey as a vendor. There, her love eventually congealed with her service for the larger community. 

Relentless Resistance

When Narry first sold goods in the university, they still had no permanent spots. Vendors pushed their carts toward their chosen places as early as 4:30 a.m. and returned them to their homes at the end of each day. By then, Narry also came to know the Samahan ng mga Manininda through Guillermo’s mother, who was serving the organization as its vice president. 

After experiencing their conditions and seeing the formation’s operations, she knew something had to change.

Narry first suggested improvements as simple as ensuring that the organization had proper documentation, such as minutes from every meeting. Her engagement grew until her fellow members first elected her president in 2002. 

She was outspoken and active, so members chose her to lead them for consecutive years, said Yolanda Sinoy, Samahan member and a kiosk vendor since 1994. Whenever people had problems, they would always raise them to Narry, knowing she would take prompt action.

“Talagang hindi hadlang ang kasarian ko na pamunuan itong organization,” Narry said.

True enough, Narry led the first protest among vendors in 2002 to contest what she narrated to be the university officials’ crackdown on their members selling goods, such as juice, that the administration deemed forbidden, possibly over health concerns. But such prohibitions were undefined, Narry said. That changed after their action generated a crucial victory as she participated in crafting the University Guidelines on Vending Activities. 

Since then, they have continued to resist displacement threats and assert the organization’s representation in decision-making processes. Narry, often at the frontlines, thus represents this adage reframed by Rey Valmores, chairperson of LGBTQIA+ organization Bahaghari: “The new trans woman, the new Filipina, is first and foremost a militant.”

Against the backdrop of a banner for Women’s Month and a mural showcasing women’s resistance against despots, Narry recounts moments when she led campaigns contesting commercialization. (Lorence Lozano/Philippine Collegian) 

Now with the advent of UP Town Center, GyudFood Hub, and DiliMall, vendors like Yolanda decry the ramifications of these commercialized arrangements: fewer customers for them and higher costs of food for students. Representing these frustrations, Narry has since been a prominent figure at the negotiating tables and in mobilizations, speaking against the corporate intrusion in the university and linking arms with other sectors.

Connected Contestations

Narry, who now sells beverages and mixed fruits near the Main Library, believes that her struggles as a vendor and trans woman in a commercialized university are inseparable. There were still times that Narry was discriminated against and derogatorily referred to as “bakla” in the same streets she traverses toward her work, compounding the threats she faces as a vendor. She’d be hurt, Narry admitted, but she surmounts this feeling every time to calmly teach them the need to be respectful of her identity.

Narry, after an afternoon nap, prepares the cold beverages she sells. Joggers running around the Academic Oval are her usual customers once the sun is about to set. (Marcus Azcarraga/Philippine Collegian)

“Against the backdrop of a world that seeks to oppress ordinary people – those defying patriarchal norms, most of all – trans women are called not only to find individual freedoms amid exploitation, but to fight the exploitation faced by the community and broader society altogether,” said Valmores.

Cognizant of these intersections, Narry calls for the swift passage of the SOGIE Bill in the country and the dismantling of commercialization policies that marginalize them in the university.

A community predicated on love repudiates domination and discrimination. Such is a project that Narry develops in conjunction with vendors, students, and other sectors struggling to forge a university that subjugates no one. 

With these emancipatory ends, Narry Hernandez’s tale in UP persists as a love story—one that now extends to the broader public she serves. ●

First published in the March 31, 2025, print edition of the Collegian.