There is something quietly radical about a woman who sells clothes to her classmates on weekends and ends up working in an international law firm two decades later. Her name is Maricris Celemen-Galang, and the distance between those two versions of herself was crossed not by luck, but by the kind of stubborn, unglamorous perseverance that rarely makes headlines.
She arrived in Dubai in 2006 at 20 years old, fresh out of college, with no formal work experience and a starting salary of 1,500 dirhams a month. This August, she marks 20 years in the UAE.
Humble beginnings, honest work
Before Dubai, there was Divisoria.
Long before corporate boardrooms and legal briefs, her education often continued far beyond the classroom. While her classmates spent weekends catching up on rest, she spent hers moving through the city’s sprawling bargain markets, scanning crowded stalls for clothes and accessories she could resell at school. Each item she chose carried more than profit; it reflected instinct, calculation, and necessity. What might have looked like a small side business was, in many ways, an early lesson in resilience — a young woman learning to meet uncertainty with resourcefulness and quiet determination.
“What started as a simple interest gradually became an important lesson in initiative, resourcefulness, and independence,” she recalls. On days without classes, she helped her mother sell goods at the public market, watching her work with the kind of tireless consistency that children quietly absorb and carry into adulthood.
Her father drove a tricycle. Her mother sold fruit. Both worked so that Maricris and her sister could study and have something better. She has never forgotten that.
When the opportunity to go abroad arrived, it was not the result of careful planning. She was young, curious, and ready to find out who she could become outside of everything familiar. Her first role in Dubai was in HR recruitment. Two months later, she moved to a travel agency, where she stayed for five years — learning to work under pressure, manage competing responsibilities, and navigate clients from dozens of different backgrounds.
“Every role I accepted, every challenge I faced, and every sacrifice I made contributed to where I am today,” she says. It reads like a line someone writes after the hard part is over. For Maricris, it took nearly two decades to earn the right to say it.
When the ground gives way
Not everything about those years was a steady climb.
Early in her time abroad, Maricris found herself in a legal dispute with a previous employer — the kind of situation that has derailed the careers and lives of many OFWs who lack the resources or knowledge to fight back. The battle drained much of what she had saved. The uncertainty stretched on. Her passport was withheld.
A piece of advice from her very first employer became what she describes as her anchor during that period: “Whenever you face difficult situations, always think of your family back home, because if you keep them in mind, you will never make the wrong decision.”
She was 20 when she heard those words. She was older and considerably more worn when she truly understood them.
With the help of her lawyer, she won the case. She got her passport back. And something else returned with it — a sharper, quieter kind of resolve.
But the personal losses hit harder than the legal ones. Years of working overseas meant missed birthdays, absent Christmases, and ordinary moments that cannot be scheduled back in. When she finally made it home for a visit, her father passed away four months after her return. She could not attend his funeral.
“That helplessness left a deep mark,” she says, “and I silently promised myself that I would never again be powerless when it came to the people I love.”
That promise shaped everything that followed. She worked to bring her mother, sister, and niece to Dubai. Her sister found work. Maricris met her husband in 2018. Together, they traveled — to the Holy Land, across Europe — turning places her mother had only dreamed of into shared memories. She gave her mother the world, for as long as she could.
In December 2024, her mother passed away.
“Losing her was a pain unlike any I had ever known,” she says simply. There is nothing else to add to that.
Finding a place in the law
For all the weight of her personal story, Maricris has also built a professional life that surprises people — including, sometimes, herself.
She now works at one of the world’s leading international law firms, as part of its IP, Regulatory & Digital practice team. She assists clients primarily with trademark matters. She came to the role without a legal background. She got there through a mentor who, in her words, “pushed me beyond my comfort zone” and guided her professional development with patience and high expectations.
“I did not originally plan to work in this field,” she admits, “but I was given the opportunity to work with a highly talented lawyer in Dubai who pushed me beyond my comfort zone and mentored me.”
That relationship — between a professional who saw potential and a worker willing to be stretched — is something she speaks about with genuine, unperformed gratitude. It is a reminder that career trajectories are rarely solo projects, and that the right mentor at the right moment can rewrite a story entirely.
Today, what she enjoys most about her work is the combination of continuous learning and tangible contribution — being part of outcomes that matter for clients in a fast-moving, complex area of law.
What comes next
This June 2026, Maricris and her husband will open their first flagship luxury retail store at Hann Casino & Resort in the Philippines — carrying bags, shoes, accessories, and fine jewelry.
For someone who once sourced inventory from Divisoria to sell to classmates, the arc is not lost on her.
“This store is more than a business,” she says. “It represents years of perseverance, hard work, and unwavering faith. Every challenge we faced overseas and every sacrifice we made has led to this moment.”
She is not leaving Dubai anytime soon — the city has been home for long enough that she thinks of it that way without qualification. But the Philippines project is something she and her husband built together, a return that is less about going back than about bringing something worthwhile with them.
Her advice for OFWs still in the middle of their own difficult chapters is direct and carries none of the hollow optimism that often fills this kind of counsel: “I have learned not to rely solely on a salary — finding ways to earn, save, and grow your money is crucial.” She means it practically. She lived it.
And then, more personally: “Be good, do good, and always be honest — especially with those who trust you. You never know how much these people can impact your life.”
