Tags:
Journalism of Courage
Given the chaotic world we live in, I think it8217;s time to sit back and reassess the important life lessons we8217;ve picked up on the way. How do we pass these on to the next generation? Not just the mundane 8216;Thou shalt not steal8217; or the Pythagoras theorem, but things that really matter. Like trying to smash the glass ceiling at every possible opportunity.
How about we teach our children and our children8217;s children to seize the day. How about not teaching them the meaning of fear 8212; fear of failure or fear of creepy-crawlies, but especially fear of the unknown.
Maybe it8217;s good children aren8217;t born with the ability to question their parents or judge them, or even hold them accountable. But it8217;s time someone did. Here8217;s my apology in advance, just to clear my slate 8212; Mea culpa.
I apologise. For not being born into poverty. For not having a cause I believe in, or a burning desire to fight for my religion. For not being a sycophant, in this, the Age of Sycophancy.
For not seeing the colours or ethnic strands, but only hearing a cacophony of voices. For feeling claustrophobic. For having a voice that can be raised to discuss all things great and small, but too seldom things that really matter, like people being burned alive or women being raped while the world looks on in silent complicity. For wanting to smash that damned glass ceiling, but not having Icarus8217; guts to soar towards the sun.
For leading a self-centered life and not thinking outside the box. For having my thoughts shoved down my throat. For not being subservient, but for being brought up to be painfully polite, which can amount to the same thing.
For being tortured, while the smug and self-satisfied take over the world. For not reinventing myself enough, not even scratching the surface. But mostly, for mixing my metaphors.
Maybe it8217;s a good thing children learn as they go along.
