Wednesday July 18, 2018

Y-Speak: To be told to shut up

THIS must be what that song played on the radio every Sunday, the classic Cat Stevens "Father and Son". These days, as bashing is the most common pastime of every one on social media, I want to sing out loud and rant:

How can I try to explain?
When I do he turns away again
It's always been the same, same old story
From the moment I could talk
I was ordered to listen
Now there's a way
And I know that I have to go away
I know I have to go.

It can be frustrating. People tell you to shut up because you've never been through Martial Law, as if it's my fault that my parents were still young students then and I was not yet even a part of their imagination.

Each generation, I believe, has a stake in all these and not one single person has the right to shut me up, especially those who have already taken sides and have refused to listen to any other contention.

All the times that I've cried Keeping all the things I knew inside It's hard, but it's harder to ignore it If they were right I'd agree But it's them they know, not me Now there's a way And I know that I have to go away I know I have to go.

I guess, we can listen to the song and take action.

There was no social media before, and the socialization allowed were those whom we can interact with face to face or hand over a flyer to. Those were the brave days, I say, because people will have to face up with their opinions and stance.

Now, we only have to browse through the feeds in our social media accounts to see that the most rabid among the rabid cannot even show their faces. Cowards.

It is in the anonymity of the cowards that they gain more courage and rabies.

Indeed, I was not there during martial law, but I can just stare in awe at the photos of massive rallies staged during those times. The miniscule pickets that I see on street corners these days look so puny, so made-up, so superficial.

Indeed, I was not there during martial law and I missed all those that fired up the rage. But we can be just as angry, when our voices are stifled by those who look at us with condescending eyes. (Sherrie Jane Tan)