WOMEN ON WHEELS: Lanes for Courage, Roads for Dreams
- Jonell Gregorio
- Jan 7
- 7 min read
BY BRYAN JULIAN A. GREGORIO, BEA A. CASTRO, JOHNNY R. URETA, & LEAMIE ZABALLERO
In the past, men drew lines around what women could and could not do, dictating where they belonged and how far they were allowed to go. Authority was questioned, capability was doubted, and crossing those limits often came at a cost.
Driving, particularly as a profession, was seen as men’s territory. Women who dared to enter this field often received discrimination as the fare.
But now, prejudice and obstacles have not stopped women; they are boldly taking the wheels, steering their families out of hardship and toward the life they deserve.
In New Washington, Aklan, women e-bike drivers providing transport services have become a common sight. Today, there are 22 of them in total.
![Registered e-bike drivers providing transport services in New Washington, Aklan [Source: Local Government Unit (LGU)—New Washington, Business Permit and Licensing Office (BPLO)]](https://static.wixstatic.com/media/ea7b1f_2e12ac5b9612454abd0f78821907d5fb~mv2.png/v1/fill/w_980,h_551,al_c,q_90,usm_0.66_1.00_0.01,enc_avif,quality_auto/ea7b1f_2e12ac5b9612454abd0f78821907d5fb~mv2.png)
Ripe to Ride
“Medyo libre lang man abi tanan ang baligyang mangga.” (It feels like I’m just giving away all the mangoes I sell.)—Lucil
Lucil A. Reducto had long sold mangoes at the plaza in Poblacion New Washington, Aklan, but the sweet aroma of her ripe fruits couldn’t hide the fact that her stall was running at a loss. At 38, she realized she needed to pluck a new source of income to support her family.
With daily expenses for food and other essentials piling up, and her mother’s health declining with age, Lucil made a bold decision. With the help of her sister’s savings, they were able to buy an e-bike, and she began navigating the streets to earn a living.
The first weeks were the toughest. She was new to the job, and there was a time when her e-bike ran out of battery in the middle of the street, forcing her to push it with a passenger onboard to reach the nearest road. Her arms ached, her legs burned, and yet she refused to give up.
But the cracks on her road did not end there. Some men would belittle her, claiming a woman could never handle driving an e-bike that carried passengers through the busy streets. Their doubts and mocking words were like potholes in her journey.
But despite the bumps along her own path, Lucil makes sure no one else has to stumble—especially the children. When she sees kids trudging home under the relentless sun, she offers them a free ride.
“Kung amat, kung may estudyante nga gabaktas ag uwa it pang pamasahe, hay napasakay ko lang. Bisan uwa it bayad hay masadya man gihapon ako. Medyo akong gumankon man akong sinakay.” (Sometimes if there are students walking with no fare, I just give them a ride. Even without payment, it still makes me happy. It feels like I’m just taking my own niblings home.)
The skepticism of others could have been a roadblock, but Lucil kept her wheels turning.
“Kung kaya it mga eaki, kaya man namong mga baye.” (If men are capable, we women are capable as well.)
Lucile faced them head-on, proving that skill and determination are not defined by gender.
No Brakes
“Gusto ko man buligan ro akong asawa, kasi kung saligan ko anang kita, sobrang kueang gid.” ("I also want to help my husband, because if I depended only on his income, it really wouldn’t be enough.”)—Donnalyn
At 28, Donnalyn R. Llevan refused to let her family drown in hardship. Her husband earned only a few pesos a day selling fish—just enough to get through the day, and sometimes not even that. With a son in elementary school and a one-year-old still dependent on milk, waiting was no longer an option.
Determined to provide, she took a risk. Donnalyn ventured into unfamiliar territory and bought an e-bike through installment, amounting to ₱38,000.
Some mornings, with nothing but coffee in her stomach and hunger gnawing at her, she would help her Grade 1 son prepare for school. After dropping him off, she would park nearby, joining the line of drivers, waiting for passengers while keeping an eye on the school gate.
At first, the idea of driving for a living terrified her. She had doubts about herself, about the road, and about how people would see her. Some passengers would turn away the moment they realized a woman was behind the handlebars, choosing to wait for a male driver instead. The fear and embarrassment pressed down on her.
There were also days when she had no one to leave her one-year-old with, so she sometimes brought him along during her trips. But instead of kindness, she was often met with harsh words, voices louder than the blaring horns and engines on the streets, telling her that a woman should not be driving for a living, especially not with a child by her side.
But Donnalyn did not see shame in what she was doing. She saw responsibility.
“Indi kita magpinaperdi sa mga eaki. Kung ginamueay kita, mueayon man naton. Magpakaisog man kita kanda agod di kita nanda lait-laiton, di kita nanda maliiton. Ipakita man naton nga maisog man kita, nga kaya naton sanda, bukon it kita eang andang kaya porket baye kita.” (We shouldn’t let men overpower us. If they scold us, we should stand up to them too. We need to be brave with them so they won’t mock us or look down on us. We should show that we are strong and capable, not just that they can push us around because we are women.)
For Donnalyn, bravery is simple: she gets on her e-bike, even when she’s scared, because she knew that each of her ride means she can buy milk for her baby or help her son with school. That’s what keeps her going.
Taking the Lead
“Magbueoligan eang kita. Indi kita magsalig sa isaea.” (“We just have to help each other. Don’t rely on just one person.”)—Ana Mae
Ana Mae Racia never imagined she would be gripping the throttle at 39. Her husband, a tricycle driver, had fallen seriously ill with tuberculosis, and with four children depending on her, she had no choice but to take the pedal herself.
The decision was not easy. She bought an e-bike on installment, unsure if she could pay it in full. Still, she took the risk, knowing that each ride meant food for her children, medicine for her husband, and a chance to face another day.
Ana Mae admits she was afraid at first. The streets were unfamiliar, the highway wide and fast, and her hands shook as she mounted the seat for the first time. Fear pressed on her chest, but hunger and responsibility pressed harder.
Even as she gained confidence, some people whispered doubts, others asked why a woman was driving. Yet Ana Mae answered firmly, without hesitation.
“Haman, eaki eata ro pwedeng magpangita? Ag sa ginmasakit ang asawa. Hay alin-alinon ko kung indi ako mag-usoy it pangitan-an?” (“Are only men allowed to work? My husband is sick. How else can I take care of my family if I don’t work?”)
There were also days she rode even when her body ached or she felt sick. But she had no choice. She had to be strong.
Life, however, did not pause. When her daughter became pregnant as a teenager, Ana Mae felt the weight on her shoulders grow even heavier. Yet, she kept going.
Slowly, perseverance brought relief. Things began to get better. Her husband regained his strength and went back to driving his tricycle, while Ana Mae started saving to open a small sari-sari store.
Sometimes life feels as heavy as the load on her e-bike, but Ana Mae keeps pedaling, one trip at a time, because her family needs her.
OTHER FEMALE E-BIKE DRIVERS
Dead End
Lucil, Donnalyn, and Ana Mae have slowly learned how to maneuver through doubt, hunger, and judgment.
But just as every driver eventually reaches an unfamiliar road, one without signs and without clear directions, these women, along with other e-bike drivers, now face a new kind of uncertainty.
After proving their strength against discrimination and hardship, the road ahead is no longer shaped only by courage, but by policy.
Recently, the Land Transportation Office (LTO) announced the strict impounding of e-bike and tribike operating on national highways, set to take effect in early 2026.
During Senate plenary debates, Senator JV Ejercito acknowledged the dilemma.
“Minsan hindi talaga sila lisensyado, minsan nanay pa ang nagda-drive may mga kasamang mga anak na delikado, very light. So 'yun po ang sabi ng LTO, from now on talagang dapat ho 'pag nasa main thoroughfare, especially talagang automatic i-impound na po nila.” (Sometimes the drivers are not really licensed, sometimes it's the mothers who are driving carrying their children. It's dangerous. So the LTO said that they will impound them automatically, especially when on the main thoroughfares.)
Still, Ejercito said the crackdown would not come immediately. An information drive is set to begin, giving drivers warnings and time to adjust before full enforcement starts. While some leeway may be given inside barangays and subdivisions, e-bikes will no longer be allowed on major thoroughfares.
“Main thoroughfares, bawal na po talaga sila. Siguro bibigyan natin ng leeway sa barangay o kaya sa mga subdivisions. Pero sa main thoroughfare ay talagang hindi na po sila papayagan.” (They really won't be allowed on main thoroughfares. Maybe we will give leeway when they are inside a barangay or subdivisions. But they really will not really be allowed anymore on major thoroughfares.)
The Land Transportation Office (LTO) says the policy is rooted in road safety. LTO Chief and Assistant Secretary Markus Lacanilao explained that electric bikes and tricycles caught operating on major thoroughfares will face penalties under Republic Act 4136, or the Land Transportation and Traffic Code, as well as Joint Administrative Order No. 2014-01. These include fines and the automatic impounding of vehicles.
For Lucil, Donnalyn, Ana Mae, and the other e-bike drivers in New Washington, the announcement brings more fear than certainty. Many of them are still paying off their e-bikes through installment. If given the opportunity to secure proper licenses, they say they would do so without hesitation. If rules must be followed, they are ready to comply.
What they ask for is simple: that they be allowed to continue operating on local streets and lanes. For them, losing access to the road would mean losing their only source of income.
The road has never been kind to these women, but it has always given them a way forward. As new regulations threaten to narrow that path, they keep riding while they still can, holding on to the hope that someday the wheels will turn in their favor.
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