WE FOUGHT BACK, FROM DAY 1 TO DAY 4,904. Sorry if this sounds too blunt and insensitive, but when I’m asked about my worst memories of martial law—the raids and arrests, the salvage and massacre cases, the anguish of people looking for their missing loved ones, the torture and trauma, etc.—I tend to push them down into the background, into the subconscious.
Rather, I always like to bring into prominent recollection the many forms of people’s resistance, even the smallest ones, the funny and heart-warming ones. Many of us fought back, from Day 1 to the last day, which was 4,904 days later. Fearfully or bravely, reluctantly or coolly, with our stomachs in knots and knees shaking, with clenched fist and gritted teeth, oft-times cheerful and smiling, or even as we cried and sobbed. Sometimes all these at the same time, yes.
But by God. We. Fought. Back. Those reminiscences are the ones that really, really get me tearing up. #