And now, what you’ve been waiting for… this entry was written for purposes of humor, although my own personal beliefs (and that of others that generously tweeted their thoughts) are woven herein.
You have no business having sex…
… if you cannot yet drive, vote, AND drink. You have to be able to do all 3.
… if you still live with your parents.
… if you can’t afford to buy contraception. If you can’t buy a rubber, you think you can afford a kid if that rubber breaks, fool???
… if you think that one pill will protect you from an unexpected pregnancy. Oh man, how many young women have been fooled with this one…
… if you’re stupid.
… if you are unable to financially, morally, or willingly take responsibility for a child, should that be the result of your 7 minutes in heaven. Or 5. Or 3 (ooh, if I was that girl, I’d be really, really angry).
I did promise a “You Don’t Have Any Business Having Sex…” blog, didn’t I?
Truth is, there is a serious reason behind the humorous premise. Right now, here in the Philippines, there is a battle being waged in the House of Representatives as well as in barangays and many other communities. I’m talking about the Reproductive Health Bill.
Yes, I am all for a measure guaranteeing reproductive health services for many of our country’s people, especially expectant mothers that need emergency obstetric care in case of a miscarriage or pre-term labor. There have been enough maternal deaths in the country that an RH measure is imperative.
Not too long ago I saw a documentary about Jesus, and one of the sections struck me... apparently, in Matthew 5:3-9, Jesus is quoted as saying that if we are struck on the right cheek, to turn the other one to him also. The explanation given on the documentary was one that showed Jesus not as a proponent and peace and love, but of not wanting to be treated like a slave or second-class citizen.
Think of it this way... let's just say most everyone was right-handed, which meant that if you were struck on the right cheek, you were struck by the back of the right hand. The gesture is demeaning and insulting, and is only administered by one intending to put another in his or her place. By a husband to a wife; master to slave. To turn your other cheek is to demand that you be struck as an equal, and not as a subordinate, and back in the day, that just wasn't done. In short, Jesus said, "Don't let anyone demean you."
You know what, I’m tired of hearing that phrase whenever a tragedy strikes our country. I’m also tired of seeing it on my newsfeed whenever I open Twitter.
The phrase seems to give us permission to pass the buck on to God, the Almighty and Powerful, Omnipotent God, to take the responsibility away from us and fix everything while we sit back and watch.
Well, to all of you still on your knees in deep contemplation, I have news for you: GOD ISN’T GOING TO COME DOWN AND FIX THINGS FOR YOU.
My mother always had this mantra: God helps those who help themselves. She used it whenever she wanted me to get off my ass and do something. Yeah, you have to admire a woman who continues to survive in this world by virtue of her smarts and disdain for sloth. She’s always up and about, active and quick. Although she does say that the end of her life will be coming sooner rather than later (she’s in her 70s, but man, she doesn’t look it), the way she acts is much more proactive and less fatalistic.
Just a few sound bites that may inform you of how and why I turned out the way I did:
- Me to my Dad: “I got a 97 on my test!” Dad to me: “Why didn’t you get 100?” I shot this right back at him when, at perusing his college yearbook, he said, “I graduated 3rd in my class…” “Dad, why weren’t you #1?”
- Director to a 9-year-old me at the note session at the end of rehearsals: “YOU ARE A BULOK ACTRESS!!!” said in front of the whole cast. If anything, it was a test of my character, and my mom’s who had to endure all of that along with me. A few other mothers pulled their kids out of the same show at the time, opting to not stomach what they saw as vitriol and abuse. Truth be told, I wouldn’t hesitate to say the same thing to the 9-year-old me; I really WAS kinda bulok (read: auto-pilot) at the time. I did get better though.