By Kaifa Diaz
When I was in college, I needed to leave my hometown for the big city. I was forced to move away from my family and the life I knew. It was my baptism of fire. As a Filipino, I consider it my first taste of bittersweet freedom. Normally, after securing the coveted diploma, we were expected to surrender that freedom as if it were borrowed and to move back. The unwritten rule was that it was only temporary. Not to me, though, I went against the grain. I have never given up that freedom until now.
I remember that my dorm mates from the provinces got so homesick in the first few days that one of them eventually flew home. We called her Mikky, and she would cry at ungodly hours because she’d miss her parents so much. Before her flight, she told us she was unsure where she’d study, shrugged, “Que será, será” and off she went. A long-term decision was made in the grip of homesickness. Perhaps going home has brought her warmth and happiness, which are basic needs. But, as to how long they will last? No one knows for sure. What I’m sure of is that the big plans she once had for her future took the back burner.
I’ve had the opportunity to travel abroad in my early twenties. I noticed that each time I set foot onto new land, the roar of the fast lane greets me. Everyone moved with vitality and purpose. By contrast, the Philippines feels like a lethargic slacker; ever-moving but not towards anything. It’s a tempting paradise, but the danger in giving in to its allure is that your dreams remain in your sleep. Reality gives a hard slap.
Seeing other countries made me see my own with fresh eyes. And this is my takeaway: If you’re single or don’t have kids yet, living away is possibly the best way to reset. Time on your own gives you room to self-reflect and recalibrate your mind. It might even make you question what you’ve accepted as normal. This is crucial. This process of refinement produces gold. It doesn’t benefit just you; it goes straight into the country’s national reserve.
I know the idea of breaking away sounds taboo in the Philippines, even unreasonable. But consider this: what happens when a country is composed of citizens tethered to their nests? Does it even move? A ship can’t sail away when it’s anchored down. In a similar manner, a human being cannot move when chained.
Time and again, our culture has proven to have a grotesque enabling attitude. We allow parasitic attachments and encourage irresponsible lifestyles in kin. In effect, a toxic chain is formed, violating personal boundaries in an already invasive society. To say poverty is only incidental is a lie.
In a Filipino’s mind, where ambition and drive should thrive, there are instead the measly goals of “pleasing other adults” or “paying our moral debts.” This mentality has been passed on for many generations. They call it love. I call it dysfunctional.
Only a minority of Filipinos in the Forbes Philippines’ 50 Richest are categorically self-made. The majority made it there because they possess colonial Spanish inherited land or are members of a Fil-Chinese business dynasty. In other words, fewer Filipinos are actually wealthy based on something they built. It’s not because we don’t have what it takes; it’s because we can’t be builders when we are prisoners. The 9-5 Bundy clock could become our friendly warden.
Countries with fewer natural resources have progressed far beyond us. Is our lagging behind really because we are geographically cursed or lacking oil? Not quite. Venezuela has more oil than seven Asean countries combined, yet they have to be rescued. So, is it because of corrupt officials? Not entirely true. Many wealthy nations have corrupt officials, too. Yet their economies don’t collapse like a house of cards. Why? Because real strength is found in the core of its people: a strong sense of independence.
Our core is destructive dependency. Because of it, we stay buried in national debt, sustaining the systemic dead weight. It’s no coincidence that we blame the government whenever we struggle. Dependence made our lives so tightly interwoven with each other that the slightest external disturbance upsets us. We even manage to behave as if oppressed, despite living under a democratic system, the least oppressive form of governance.
Once you step back, you’ll see the bigger picture: The state of our country mirrors the suppressed drive of its people. Yet, this is a cycle we unconsciously perpetuate. Is there hope? Yes.
Powerful nations prove that regardless of resources, where there is healthy individualism, movement follows. Each person takes responsibility for themselves. The nation moves forward.
I believe that the true national reserve is the intangible dreams in your head and the fire in your heart waiting to move the needle. I call it the real deal because for some of us, those dreams are the blueprint of an empire waiting to be built. The real tragedy is that the fire is subdued.
Every problem you take on that isn’t yours adds a stone to the weight, sinking your dreams to the ocean floor. I am writing this for three reasons: We’re still stuck. There is hope. We can break it.
Before you misunderstand, let me be clear. I do not suggest cutting off those who hinge on you. That is cruel. Rather, I ask that you see through a clearer lens and make future decisions out of awareness. In the meantime, keep holding the hands of the generation that came before ours, because they were just victims of their precursors. Needless to say, never make the mistake of passing this on to your offspring.
Our generation could lead this paradigm shift. Take comfort in the thought that this sacrifice ultimately improves all lives. Not just the ones inside your bubble. To those who have and will have babies in this era: never cultivate dependency. Light their fire instead.
Breaking this cycle might be the greatest gift you can give your children and your own country. Cut the cord. Establish your core. Build. Only then will you see your own empire rise before the fire dies.