I was eight years old when the actual ‘bloodless revolution’ happened; too young to fully-understand what it was all about. But my family, particularly my grandfather and my parents, made sure my brothers and I knew and understood everything as we grew older.
My dad worked for Senator Ninoy Aquino, Jr., while two of my uncles were student activists during the time of Martial Law. To say that my family lived in fear at that time is an understatement.
My war veteran grandfather had every souvenir picture and signed book of Sen. Aquino, an illustration depicting activism made by my uncle, destroyed and burned because anyone_ANYONE who expressed any dissatisfaction of the Marcos dictatorship was ‘taken’ even from the supposed comfort of home, never to return again. Family activist friends had to resort to years of ‘fleeing‘, ‘hiding‘, all because they openly fought to have freedom back.
Back then, no one can express his support to anyone who was against the Marcoses; no one can listen, read, watch anything that wasn’t about the Marcoses; the military can just ‘pick up’ anyone it felt was a threat to the Marcoses. Fear — that was what’s most evident.
Then came 1986.
It was a time when Filipinos finally had the courage to save themselves. A time no Filipino should forget. Never forget the oppression. Never forget the fight.
I believe in gratefulness. I believe in giving back. And even when it is not being sought, I believe in forgiveness. But there are particular times, those that one should learn from, when one should not forget — Martial Rule and Edsa Revolt — very much included.
I was taught (and I will forever hold onto this) that if I so enjoy exercising this amount of freedom, it is but right to educate myself as to how countless men and women fought and gave up their lives for this moment; it is but right to make an educated stand as to what kind of government I wish for my country if only to make Edsa Revolution matter.
#NeverAgain #NeverForget #Edsa30