Clenched fists in the streets

Clenched fists and all. I was in the streets when workers asked for a wage hike. I was in the streets when the U.S. bases were pulled out. I was in the streets when Erap was ousted.

I was young, unafraid, and determined. My voice and a thousand others’ were heard in the streets.

Today, the youth are again in the streets. Many of them are calling for the resignation of the President. All of them are demanding for the truth, for justice, and for change.

Last Friday, I was just a stone’s throw away from the huge crowd that gathered in Makati. But fatherhood beckoned. I had to rush home to attend to my pregnant wife. I listened to the radio about the throng of protesters who were intercepted at the express highways. I heard the news about how different sectors would come from various entry points, and at the strike of five in the afternoon, would walk toward the Ninoy Aquino statue. I heard about the No-Fly-Zone directive. I heard about a black clutch bag left unattended near the rally site. Operatives inspected and found wires and an old cellular phone inside.

I was not there at the interfaith prayer rally. But I prayed really hard that night. I prayed for a better society where my child can grow up, full of hope. I would really hate to see my child protesting in the streets 20 years from now --- clenched fists and all.

Let the fist-clenching begin and end in the womb.