Musings of a Frat Mom

“S#@!”, I exclaimed when I first read in the papers that another graduating student was dead because of alleged hazing rites in UP. I would find out later that he was not only graduating in October. He was also a student leader and a hope for a better future for his family who lives in Tiaong, Quezon. I watched the news yesterday while I feed my 10-month old son. I saw Mrs. Mendez grieve the loss of her boy, Cris, the boy whom she must have fed in the same way that I now feed my own: sitting on her lap, opening his mouth to every spoonful of food that is offered to him. So innocent, so trusting. Mrs. Mendez was so bereaved that she fainted as her son’s casket was entombed. The scene reminded me of jokes about funerals but this time, I didn’t laugh. I couldn’t laugh. The mother’s unbearable pain reached me through the TV. My heart burned as I felt her anguish, her sorrow.
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I too have gone through a physical initiation once, a long time ago. Today, I am torn between explaining the reasons for such ritual and condemning outright its cruelty. Fraternity/ Sorority members know why it has to be done. We were indoctrinated to believe that this is the way. In my youth, I would defend it against anyone who dares question. I would even arrogantly say, “It’s because you’ve never been there, that’s why you can’t and will never understand.” Now, I look back and reflect. In my mind and my heart, I no longer want it to be that way.
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Perhaps it’s the experience of motherhood. That unique experience of nurturing life instead of hurting it. It makes me review the relevance of physical initiations. Perhaps it’s because of one incident two years ago that gave me a peek of what might happen if my own children decide to join fraternities and sororities.
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My daughter was in kindergarten (in her former school) then. I woke up one morning and saw a bruise in her thigh. She was 4 years old then and I asked her what happened. She answered, “Wala po.” But she tried to keep the bruise from me. I silently urged her to tell me saying I won’t get mad at her. She eventually said, “My teacher pinched me.” I was shocked! I was mad! I was hurt! Hurt for my child. Hurt for myself. I went to the assistant principal to complain. She accommodated me but tried to ask my daughter if the bruise (which she saw) was there because of her own doing.

“Bakit ka may pasa anak? Nabangga ka ba sa table?”

The gall! But my daughter did not falter. She looked straight into the assistant principal’s eyes and shook her head.

“Kinurot po ako.”

“Nino?”

“Ni teacher ___.”

A day after, I wrote a two-page letter to officially lodge my complain to the school. When the teacher heard about this, she called for a PTA meeting to complain against the complainant. She didn’t say if she knows it was me. Later incidences would prove she suspected me as the whistleblower. Nothing dramatic came out of that meeting because I opted to remain silent. Why? Because most of those who were present already declared that the complainant should have talk to the teacher first before going to the assistant principal. I felt really bad but at least, the PTA President, asked us to continue checking on our children to look for bruises or cuts. I presume he believes that teachers pinching students do happen.

It dawned upon me afterwards that I almost raised hell when I saw my daughter’s bruised leg. If a pinch can stir such emotions in me, what will my reaction be when my child comes home beaten black and purple? What will my reactions be when they come home lifeless? I shuddered at the thought. Watching Mrs. Mendez faint, I guess I will be like her, a thousand times over.
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I hope that Cris Mendez’s death makes a difference in the culture of violence that has tainted UP. I hope it makes a difference in all other universities and places where fraternities and sororities are extolled but perverted. I hope it wakes up these brotherhoods and sisterhoods to rethink and stop the violence. At one point, I thought, why should this have to happen at this time when UP is celebrating it’s Centennial? Then again, I thought it’s coincidental, perhaps cosmic that it did happen today. A reminder that alongside UP’s legacy of scholars and free thought lie a string of senseless violence. A fact that should not be ignored. A cancer that should be cured.