The wrath of titans and why it’s important for parents to listen to their kids
If you’re a parent of a young protester, this letter is for you.
Believe me, I know how it feels.
How it scares the hell out of us parents to see our children take on the Leviathan all by their young, innocent, weak, naïve little selves. Each time it happens, the image playing out in our heads resembles this poster of the movie Wrath of the Titans — the young Perseus facing off with a multi-headed beast a hundred times its size and spews fire and brandishes fangs the size of which could rip a stone house like it was made of matchsticks.
There’s something utterly frightening and emotionally devastating about going toe to toe with a regime hellbent on wasting anything and anyone in its path — young or old makes no difference.
Our own courage is tested whenever we see our sons and daughters hurl caution to the wind and choose to display their own brand of courage regardless of the odds. Oftentimes, we think courage of this sort is wasted on juvenile idealism, that it would serve our children well if the same is veered toward a good education.
In writing this, I am not assuming any role over you or your children. Your children is your business, not mine. Your lives are your own to steer and guide. Being a father of three and an editor, I have more than enough in my hands to keep my 24 hours tight as a knot.
This letter is more of a discussion on how important it is, at this juncture, to understand where our kids are coming from rather than them understanding our misgivings.
This is not about us. This is about them.
I guess we can begin by being thankful that our children are not dense to what’s happening around them. Having the intelligence to form conclusions on their own is always a step towards the right direction.
As parents, you and me are partly to be credited for that. You have every reason to be proud of yourselves and your child if he or she is capable of critically assessing their position and role in the family and society. Sad to say there are lots of children in all strata of life, rich and poor, who couldn’t care less if the world comes to an end today in a blaze of bubbles, if not fire.
If you’re the type of parent who goes out of his or her way to spend quality time with your kids, it’s something you should be proud of. Not all parents are aware of the significance of lending their ears to their children — I mean, really listening to them and knowing what they have to say — taking the time, despite horrendously busy schedules, to explain what is happening in the world. All to often, kids are caught in the jaws of confusion the likes of which gives them nightmares.
Who can they run to for answers other than you?
I know. I am fully aware how hard it is to spare even a minute of our time when the boss pesters us like a monkey on our back. Deadlines loom over the horizon, to say little of cellphone calls, emails and Zoom meetings needing swift and unimpaired attention. Poorer families are forced to juggle two to three jobs just to make ends meet. Survival wages do not allow anyone to dream, much less reserve the needed time for children’s questions about life, love and why government is acting the way it is. As a journalist of some experience, I know what being absorbed and preoccupied means. To spare time for my kids, I long ago began counting each day in seconds, not in minutes or hours. I filched time — even from sleep — wherever and whenever the chance presented itself.
But see, as a child I knew what it was like to be brushed off not only because my parents were busy, but because they couldn’t care less about what I think. And looking at this from hindsight, I don’t blame them. I mean, what can they expect from a 16-year-old know-it-all? But my fears, nay, my terrors, were just as real as their own. The country was under martial law. What could be more terrifying and stifling than that?
I was a largely cloistered rich kid at nine when I saw on primetime news the assassination attempt against the former First Lady. The very sight of a man hacking away with his bolo haunted me way up to my teenage years. Each time I raised questions at the dinner table, the elders of my family took it as rubbish, as coming from a kid who should’ve known better than to delve into adult conversation on dirty politics.
Given no choice but to choose the path of unrelenting resistance, I went out of my way to read up on the matter, talk to friends about it, even badger teachers and professors willing to lend me their ears. It wasn’t easy connecting the dots when you’re hearing several sides of the story. In college, I got a hold of Marcos’ book, The New Society, an impressively written idealistic tome yet largely dissonant when set side by side with the way the Marcos regime conducted itself.
By the time I saw the bigger picture, the country was already in an uproar. I started joining protest marches without informing my parents because of my greater fear of being brushed aside again and made to look like a fool. That goes without saying that battle-scarred soldiers don’t scare me more than my parents’ rejection. When the tyrant at the Palace fled in 1986, I was proud to be there at EDSA. To this very day, no one in my immediate family knows I stood against tanks with millions of Filipinos.
Days after the Ampatuan Massacre happened where 58 people were slaughtered, more than half of whom were journalists, my eldest daughter Rei — a former Journalism student from the University of Santo Tomas — came up to me and expressed her willingness to join the protest march. ‘Don’t worry, I’ll skip class,’ she said. My immediate reaction was a resounding no, given my knowledge as a journalist of how protest marches can turn ugly in mere seconds. But I held back my tongue. Since I was there to cover the event, I agreed for her to join. My wife Che, an editor of a newspaper, also wanted to tag along. It was her way of showing solidarity to the journos who perished in what has been called the worst election-related violence in the history of the nation.
I’ve never been prouder of my family than on that day. That night, after the march, I sat down with my daughter at home and answered all her questions.
I am not in any position to tell other parents anything, save perhaps that our children today are crying out for help, for answers to questions, for some guidance. In the news, they see police officers shooting an unarmed military man, or beating a vendor for not wearing a face mask. They see students, people they know, scampering for safety as police engage them using truncheons and guns. Well-nigh each day someone is murdered in our streets as a result of the drug war.
Aren’t you even curious about your child’s feelings due to all this?
Replying with anger or visible annoyance doesn’t help. Likewise, hurling your stone-cold deadpan expression only exacerbates what is already an extremely volatile situation. Cutting yourself off from your kids or using your jobs as an excuse is not advised.
Leaving them at the mercy of the internet and social media, in the hands of strangers (and idiots) who couldn’t care less about them, turns their situation from extremely bad to nearly impossible. In their minds, our own refusal to engage our children tells our kids either one of two things: that we’re ignorant of what is happening (which is utterly shameful), or we’re benefiting from it one way or the other. Either way, we’re screwed.
Fearful times call for extraordinary courage. And I’m not even talking of you and your children facing tanks. I’m talking of parents offering more than just their spare time to engage their children’s questions. It’s a frightening prospect to suddenly find yourself unable to answer an inquiry from them. Then I suggest we learn more, open our eyes, go the extra mile to read up and study the matter.
Our children and their future deserve nothing less.
Also, for us to listen to what is not being said because children have this knack for refusing to open their mouths on topics that are way too personal. Dismissing our kids’ inquiries makes them feel useless, unaccepted, worse, unloved. This opens doors for unscrupulous people to enter their lives and drag them by the nose.
Life is full of terrors with or without tyrants or terrorists or idiots in power inflicting their savagery on the people. More than ever, we must grab the chance as parents to be the beacon of light for our children. If that’s the only way parents can contribute to the future of this country, a future largely belonging to our children than ourselves, then so be it.
Our kids need to know if we will be there to secure that future, free of the whiles of tyranny and savagery, not for them, but with them.
Because whether we like it or not, the wrath of these titans will not be quelled. They will seize their future — with or without us.
