You Just Made Morning Coffee Thoughts a Micro-Influencer

It was just past 6 a.m. The kind of Friday morning where the world feels both familiar and slightly off — like a song you’ve played a thousand times, but now someone else is humming it.

School’s back. The month-long pause is over. But the routine’s different now.

I don’t drive my daughter to school anymore. She drives herself.

My job now is simpler, quieter: make sure breakfast is hot, the table’s set, and the coffee maker hums to life before the sun fully wakes up. Kapeng barako, strong as ever — enough to get me through hours of writing, reading, and occasionally arguing with political nonsense online.

When I took that first sip, I was already thinking — today was the day.

Because I’ve been tracking it.

Years of working in the BPO industry trained me to pay attention to numbers. I see patterns. I calculate averages. I track trends without needing fancy dashboards. So when the follower count began rising steadily each day, I knew when it would hit.

And this morning, it did: 10,000 followers. On an 11-day-old page. No boosting. No ads. Just words and thoughts poured out while the coffee brewed.

Over on Threads, it’s nearly 7,000 followers too. Engagement there feels quieter but more consistent — thoughtful replies, shared quotes, small affirmations.

Technically, that now places Morning Coffee Thoughts in the category of a micro-influencer — the label used for accounts with 10,000 to 99,999 followers. They’re not celebrities. They’re not untouchable. But they can move public opinion, especially in niche spaces like politics, advocacy, or social issues.

I hesitated to use that word — “influencer.” It comes with baggage: filters, sponsorships, ego. But in this case, it’s just math. Reach. Visibility. The potential to shape thought. And in a country drowning in fake news, maybe influence — the kind rooted in truth — isn’t such a bad thing.

Still, that moment came with weight. This wasn’t a milestone. It was a shift in duty.

A Post That Made Me Pause

It wasn’t part of any plan. It wasn’t written to go viral. It was just something I felt needed to be said.

A human rights lawyer — one of the few defending victims of extrajudicial killings — was under attack. Vicious comments. Lies. Smears. The usual playbook when someone dares to stand between the powerful and accountability.

Out of respect for her safety and privacy, I won’t mention her name here. But I wrote a post asking people to protect her. To stand beside her, even if only online. To help shield her from the storm.

And then the post started moving on its own: 572,000 views. 297,000 reached. 6,324 interactions. 3,500 shares.

It didn’t change everything, but it made me pause. It made me realize something I can’t un-realize: when a space like this grows, it grows beyond you. When people show up, when they echo what you say, when they move with you — that’s no longer just content. That’s impact. And impact comes with responsibility.

That post wasn’t a turning point for the page — it was a turning point for me. It made the weight of 10,000 followers feel real. Not because of numbers, but because of what those numbers can actually do.

What Comes With 10,000 Followers: The Good and the Gut Check

People think 10,000 is just a number. But it comes with weight.

It means credibility. That’s how social proof works (The Marketing Heaven). When people see others listening, they’re more likely to stop and listen too. It also means your posts now show up higher in people’s feeds (MagicBrief). The algorithm likes movement. And if you're consistent, it favors you.

It even means Facebook might let you monetize your work (MagicBrief). I'm not there yet — but I’m aware.

But that’s not the full story. It also means more trolls. More scrutiny. More chances to get it wrong in front of more people. Your engagement rate actually drops as your follower count climbs (NewswireJet). You work harder, write longer, post smarter — for proportionally less response.

And the back end? It’s no joke. Comment moderation. Admin roles. Account security. Content scheduling. Data responsibility (Constant Contact). You can’t just post and walk away. You have to stay. Watch. Respond. Because the space you made now lives in other people’s heads, too.

The Public Role You Didn’t Ask For — But Accepted Anyway

There’s no blueprint for becoming a political content creator in the Philippines. There’s only instinct, courage, and a lot of double-checking.

You learn quickly that influence cuts both ways. Every post can comfort or trigger, heal or harm, inspire or enrage. And in a country like ours, where information is often weaponized, the line between truth and propaganda is thinner than ever.

Fake news didn’t just happen. It was funded. Organized. Given airtime.

Who Benefited From the Lies?

Rodrigo Duterte. His 2016 campaign was one of the earliest examples of systematic political disinformation (D+C). Even after his ICC arrest in 2025, a wave of fake accounts rushed to paint him as a hero (Reuters).

Ferdinand Marcos Jr. won in 2022 not because people forgot — but because social media rewrote the story (New York Times). YouTubers and TikTokers were the new campaign machinery.

Sara Duterte. Her impeachment triggered AI-generated videos, fake student testimonials, and fake claims of Supreme Court reversals (VERA Files).

These weren't random viral flukes. They were planned, well-funded operations.

Who Spread Them?

Showbiz Fanaticz and BANAT NEWS TV are just two examples of "news" pages built entirely on lies (VERA Files).

RJ Nieto (Thinking Pinoy), Mocha Uson, and Mark Lopez became famous not for what they exposed, but for what they invented (Wikipedia).

SMNI and NET25 serve as partisan megaphones, amplifying coordinated attacks in the guise of journalism (CMFR).

This is the ecosystem we’re up against.

So What Do We Do With This Platform?

We tell the truth — but we don’t shout. We show receipts — but we don’t humiliate. We educate — but we don’t talk down. We fight back — but we don’t turn into what we’re fighting.

We stay human.

And we remind people that social media doesn’t have to be toxic. It can be a place where we learn, protect, challenge, and uplift.

We can partner with fact-checkers (IMS). Echo their work. Support teachers. Share PPCRV initiatives. Direct people to real sources.

And we protect our own peace, too. Because if we burn out, the disinformation machine wins.

You don’t need 10,000 followers to fight lies. Sometimes, you just need to share one post. Defend one truth. Speak up once.

Before the Last Sip: What Else This Page Must Carry

There’s more I haven’t said. And I need to.

Because having this kind of platform — even by accident — also means being aware of what my words might trigger.

Not everyone reading this page is okay. Some are grieving, some are barely getting through the day, and some are young — watching closely, trying to figure out what kind of adult they want to be. When we post about injustice or outrage, it hits differently for someone already carrying pain.

That’s why I try to choose my words carefully. I’m not always gentle. But I try to be responsible. Because our content doesn’t land in a vacuum — it lands in people’s lives. And that matters.

The same goes for the inbox. The comment section. The angry replies. The private DMs from people I’ve never met asking for help, validation, or sometimes, rescue. I’m not a therapist. I can’t offer counseling. But I can be clear about where to go, who to call, what numbers might save a life.

Because being a political page in the Philippines isn’t just about politics anymore. It’s about boundaries. And care.

I’ve also started thinking more about moderation — not just for the trolls, but for the culture we’re building here. When a DDS account drops a violent comment or someone hijacks a post to spew hate, I delete and block. Not because I’m afraid of dissent — but because I want this space to stay safe, not performative.

Some pages thrive on chaos. This one won’t.

And there’s one more thing I need to say, because most people don’t know this:

Trolls are paid.

This whole ecosystem of fake accounts, red-taggers, disinformation influencers — it’s not random. It’s a business. Some trolls earn ₱30,000 to ₱100,000 a month. That’s more than most public school teachers take home.

So when people ask, “Bakit ang lakas ng propaganda nila?” — this is why.

The lies are funded. The truth is not.

That’s the imbalance. That’s the fight.

And now, this page — this strange little corner of the internet that started with reflections over coffee — is part of that fight too.

Ending With Gratitude

Morning Coffee Thoughts wasn’t supposed to be a platform.

It was supposed to be a routine. A personal ritual. A quiet space to think out loud.

But here we are.

10,000 on Facebook.
Almost 7,000 on Threads.

And the only promise I can make is this: I will keep showing up. Keep writing. Keep checking the facts. And I will never use this voice to protect the powerful.

Only to protect those who can’t always speak up for themselves.

So thank you.
For reading.
For sharing.
For making this space not just visible — but meaningful.

Here’s to more mornings, more coffee, and more truth.