A Journey Paved by Others
As she goes down from the hill, Program Awardee for English and recipient of the Mulry Award for Literary Excellence Mikaela Regis (BFA Creative Writing and AB Literature [English] 2021) shares why writing stories is her way of giving back.
One night over dinner at home with my parents, a few days after the shock and excitement from the announcement of the LS Awards for the Arts, Program, and Mulry awardees had died down a bit, my mother suddenly asked, grinning, looking at me tenderly in the eye, “Anong pakiramdam anak? Huwag sanang lalaki ang ulo ha?” I smiled back, softly chuckling at her reminder, “Oo naman Ma, hindi rin naman talaga akin ‘to.”
In the past years, I have written one-act plays about the unjust burial of a dictator under honorable land, the prejudice experienced by two young Catholic school girls in love, a talking house witness to a woman’s physical and psychological abuse, and the gray areas of sin and morality through the eyes of two death squad members. Yet, as varied as each theme may have been, I have come to realize that they are bound together by one thing: not one story is mine.
The first story I wrote is not mine. It is the story of a child thrust into unfathomable and unjust realities of politics, dictatorship, and other children perceived as mere collateral damage amid pointless wars. It is the story of a journalist caught between the choice of forgiving or forgetting an abuser others deem a hero as if both were ever a proper choice. It is the story of a country, bloodied and mourning.
The second story I wrote is not mine. It is the story of two teenagers brave, afraid, in love, and surrounded by hate all at once. Although I lived a few pages of what I had written, it is the story of a good friend and many other people I grew up with. It is the story of a community robbed, oppressed, yet loved and loving.
The third story I wrote is not mine. It is the story of a young adult grappling with experiences of abuse. It is the story of a woman braving the demons of her past, even if it means facing herself. It is the story of survivors remembering and overcoming.
The fourth story I wrote is not mine. It is the story of two old men birthed into unjust circumstances. It is the story of people whose sinfulness and morality lie within the grayest areas of ethics and theology. It is the story of mankind, neither good nor evil, only lost.
None of these stories are mine. What led me to them, how I came to write them, and what I used to do so are not mine either. They are from the student organizations and publications that showed me art and literature grounded in much greater causes than the self. They are from Ateneo ENTABLADO, HEIGHTS Ateneo, and Tanghalang Ateneo, who taught me that although art may not be what makes the world go round, it is what makes it come alive. They are from Ateneo’s core subjects and my home departments’ curricula who gave me the basics to writing, to life, and then told me to question it, destroy it, and run with whatever is left. They are from the Philosophy, Theology, Fine Arts, and English department whose questions continue to guide me until now, perhaps more than their answers ever could. Finally, they are from the people who gave me their trust and support long before I knew what I was doing: my professors, mentors, friends, and family. All that I have and am now are theirs and were never mine to begin with. Thus, to me, these awards are but tangible reminders of the stories and people who brought me to where I am today, of the necessity to keep on. This is why, while there was a brief shock, elation, and some sense of pride that the Ateneo gave me these recognitions, there is truly, only infinite gratitude.
If there is anything I can take ownership of, I carry the voice within me now. My voice, birthed by the voices of many others I listened to and who graciously spoke back to me within my 5 years in Ateneo. My voice that I will continue to use for others as I finally go down the hill.
How do I plan to do this?
At a coffee shop with my father late at night, I fervently expressed to him my desires of “giving back” to the school and the same people that molded me. He replied, “Imposible nang ibalik ang mga binigay nila sa ‘yo. Ang magagawa mo na lang ay ibahagi ang meron ka sa iba, in the hopes that it multiplies.”
That is how.
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