Moving to action
The next day my devices didn’t stop beeping. We were making plans to meet and I thought, “Okay, that’s all we can really hope for right now. People won’t want to conduct teach-ins, others won’t reply. It’s okay. Just agree to meet and see what happens.”
Things changed shortly after. There were countless discussions on structures and the systemic nature of corruption that immediately appealed to me—it convinced others, too, of the importance of joining the Monday march against the pork barrel.
The issue had clearly become a springboard for understanding the mechanisms of corruption and everyone seemed engaged in fighting for this cause. Fantastic, I thought.
Honestly, his was more than I hoped for.
Without casting a doubt over the significance of Monday’s proceedings, I have to say that, for me, it was only an event—one that I enjoyed being a part of, definitely, but as in humor, my sense was that the punch line came much earlier.
The fire that ought to have been kindled by this assembly of people at Luneta was already burning by the time I got to the field. I was already moved without having to attend the movement. It was truly a buzz-kill.
Monday, what were you really about?
I watched protesters arrive in waves while shy individuals awkwardly stood around, avoiding my gaze. I had never attended demonstrations where individuals were encouraged to come alone. It’s so uncharacteristic of us as a people to not travel in packs, to not think as a collective.
Yet, here it was. People were thinking for themselves and acting independently of others. They marched with a firm hold on their ideals, dressing in their own version of protest-chic. They each contributed a personality to the demonstration, revealing that no single face would launch the proverbial thousand ships.
Reading their jokes (written on placards or performed), I no longer felt so bad about having to be the butt of one of life’s own pranks. I laughed heartily instead at the subtle yet in-your-face subversion that Filipinos are so good at staging.
It’s so much fun until it hurts in your gut—how Pinoy, isn’t it? We disguise profound heartaches in witticisms we can all enjoy now and muse on later.
Over the past week, I have noted that change is afoot. This protest has been a great point of convergence, linking different perspectives in pursuit of common goals.
I am convinced now that things can be done to remedy society’s ills for as long as we dare to DO and are not paralyzed by the fear of our own capacity to alter the course of history.
Last Monday, before all of you trooped to Luneta, I stood over the muddy terrain resembling a sty. It was dark and damp, altogether unpleasant.
Yet, as dawn broke and Rizal’s likeness emerged from a distance, I understood that inasmuch as this day was meant to celebrate his legacy, it was also intended for us to create our own. – Rappler.com