It was 2015 when I entered the world of activism. I started out as a campus journalist in my former school and ended up being a member of a nongovernmental organization. I was a freshman in college that time, and many told me that my innocent mind was brainwashed. At first, I was hesitant to be part of it, and I admit that I just used the organization to have multiple connections for my university paper. But it didn’t work that way.
Later on, I found myself joining strikes, marching on the streets, holding placards, shouting “makibaka” and “ibagsak,” even carrying around a mattress on my back the entire academic year, alongside farmers demanding land reform and other sectors calling a stop to contractualization, the debt trap and the violations of human rights. But activism went beyond these things.
Several times, I chose to be absent than to miss forums and rallies that I found more significant. I learned to speak out, organize and mobilize my fellow youth. I learned more things outside the campus compared to inside the university dome and its four concrete walls. It was outside that I became critical and determined to fight for my rights and those of others.
I had a magna cum laude mentor, and I used to call her “Ka Lester.” She was so different, straightforward, dignified, well-informed and driven. Just like Ate Lester, people inside the organization were so different from the usual people I met. It was through them that I learned that the struggle for democracy did not end with the fall of the Marcos regime. The problems of this country are systemic.
As student activists, we are up against finishing our chosen field, finding stable jobs, living to our potential and facing people who question our way of thinking. Activism is living a life that goes beyond our personal aspirations, and if the university fails to protect the freedom of its students and nurture their critical minds, then it’s the school’s fault. People complain that students who’ve been granted by the government free tuition are the ones who criticize the government the most. Does it mean that being a product of a state university strips us of the right to criticize the government?
Activism for me is a passion. You’re not forced to join, neither are you paid to join. Adding activism to an already full schedule as a student is hard and tedious. It’s not a walk in the park to get into trouble with your university professors, get arrested, be threatened, maced, or worse, ejected from campus because of what you believe in.
But what’s the best part of being an activist? It is the experience of meeting people with a great vision for the country, gaining leadership skills from debates and developing the ability to listen to the oppressed.
I have learned that student activism is not just an antigovernment activity. It’s not about being against something all the time. It’s about stepping up for change, speaking up and fighting for what’s right at an early age. A university should not discourage and criticize students who engage in activism. It should instead be the first venue to help uncover the truth about the world we live in, even if the truth is devastating and not always beautiful.
I’m in my 20s now. Changes are so rapid. My family’s expectations are so high, and their survival relies on what I can provide for them in the future. The pressure is on me. So why be a student activist when one still has bigger problems? It’s because being a student activist doesn’t make you less of a person; rather, it can help mold you into something more.
I have not been brainwashed. I have been enlightened. Those are two different things.
* * *
Hazel Cunanan, 21, is a senior mass communication student at Negros Oriental State University in Dumaguete City.