my prerogative
Amber.
And I'm feeling a bit (just a bit) better, ^^ but I'm still careful about stuffs.
For the time being, you can help by not aggravating Princess. <<;
But seriously...
I don't normally blur the line between my "online" self, and my real life philosophies. But this is important.
The events of 20 years ago, in Beijing, China -- the Tiananmen Square protests -- mark one of the most important moments in human history. In May and June, 1989, thousands of young Chinese students organized a peaceful rally, in Tiananmen Square, to ask their government for more freedom, more liberties, and more democracy.
For several days, the eyes of the world were fixed on Beijing. People the world over, young people especially, stood in awe at the move, stunned by the sheer magic of it all. At first, there was a wonderful spirit of celebration in the air. The Chinese government didn't immediately react. The celebration grew larger. Around the world, people were starting to get hopeful.
The winds of change were starting to blow, back then, you see. And it was these young people who fanned them, twenty years ago.
Of course I remember these events clearly. I myself was a young student, back then. Those would turn out to be the last years of the Cold War, and it was a spectacular time to be young. We had grown up in a world of unimaginable threats. The world had raised us in the belief that there were deep divisions between us. Communists and capitalists. East and West. Black and white...
But guess what? We disagreed.
The generations before had imposed those divisions -- now, we questioned "why?" The generations before had sung songs about how pretty the world could be, if only it were different -- now, we were ready to change things. A generation before greedily preached that we should accept these divisions, and profit from them. But we were greedier: We didn't want the half of the world that we were allowed. We wanted the whole world, as our playground.
We stood defiant, proud, downright cocky. We were, we are the young people at the turn of history.
One cold day, in June, 1989, I was attending a Catholic youth convention. 700 young people, all of us seniors in high school, or college students. All of us enthusiastic, and open minded. Of course we talked about what was going on, half a world away, in China. At first we had been hopeful and happy about it. But as the days went by, there were signs that something big was going to happen. We started to worry. But our lives had to go on.
On that day, one of several during the convention, all of us were in an auditorium, hearing a speech. Suddenly, one of the organizers came into the hall. He hurried towards the stage, and hastily made his way to the microphone.
He apologized to the speaker, then took the microphone, and addressed us:
"We just got the news that the Chinese Army has been called in to quell the protests in Tiananmen Square...
As all of you know, these were young people... college students. People just like you.
They didn't deserve this. All they were asking for is for a bit of freedom... to live their lives in peace... the reports are coming in... there are many dead... several hundred. Possible even thousands...
Just think about that for a moment. Right now, we have seven hundred people in this auditorium...
I'll ask all of us to pause for just a minute, and say a prayer for these young people."
I'm never going to forget that moment, I'm never going to forget how my heart sank, how immensely crushed I felt that day.
Even now, twenty years after the events, the whole truth about Tiananmen Square is unknown, and will probably remain so. Credit the painfully efficient Chinese govenment cover-up machinery for this.
We may never know how many people died that day. There may never be a monument to their memories. Their names have been deleted from history, in the name of progress, in the name of the future, in the name of "peace."
But it is precisely these nameless young men and women, who died that day, upon whom we have built our future -- our present.
Soon after the Tiananmen Square demonstrations, the winds of change reached Eastern Europe. By the end of 1989, the Berlin Wall had fallen, communist regimes were dissolved, and the Cold war was over.
By 1990, Nelson Mandela was freed, and Apartheid was on its way out. By 1991, the Soviet Union would no longer exist.
And every time, it was the young people who made it happen. The young, bright eyed sons and daughters who demanded an end to the fear, who pushed for this new world. Look at the photographs of the era... the photos of young germans, smashing the bricks of the wall. The young south africans, dancing in the streets of Soweto, after Mandela's liberation. Look at the pictures of young men and women, the world over, heralding the coming of a new age, of a new world, different, diverse, and united.
To many of you, this is ancient history. It's not a big deal. Not that important, not even worth mentioning. Which leaves the old timers like me, still high on the spirit of my times, to keep the flame alight...
Twenty years ago, thousands of unnamed young people were killed by the Chinese government. Their crime was to be young.
On that day, they gave the world their most precious gift. For that, they shall remain youthful forever.
Epilogue: One year later, I was in Austin, Texas, an engineering freshman, making the mistake of starting my academic run on the Summer Session, 1990.
After somehow managing to make it through the mess of registration, at the Frank Erwin Center, on the UT campus, I left the Center, and met a few recruiters for the many different student groups. They were looking for new members, amongst the recently registered students. I approached a skydiving group, and got a brochure about doing a jump.
As I looked to find my way back to the dorm, someone approached me, and without saying anything, she tied a yellow cloth ribbon, around my arm.
"We're having a candlelight vigil, to remember the students from Tiananmen Square..."
She gave me a pamphlet, and it had a picture of the "Goddess of Democracy" statue from Tiananmen Square. The time and date of the vigil, and a little explanation of the yellow ribbon. "We're praying for the return of the martyrs of Tiananmen."
I didn't go, and I regret not going. My excuse is that I was very young (I started college young). I was in a brand new town, taking too many things in, to be bothered by a candlelight vigil...
But there's a few boxes I've left with my family, back in Texas. Amongst them, a box with things that I've kept through the years, and which I treasure beyond words.
The skydiving brochure isn't there. But the yellow ribbon is.
Epilogue two: Yes, I know the brutal irony of my porn, being done on "Made in China" tablet... >>;
And I'm feeling a bit (just a bit) better, ^^ but I'm still careful about stuffs.
For the time being, you can help by not aggravating Princess. <<;
I don't normally blur the line between my "online" self, and my real life philosophies. But this is important.
The events of 20 years ago, in Beijing, China -- the Tiananmen Square protests -- mark one of the most important moments in human history. In May and June, 1989, thousands of young Chinese students organized a peaceful rally, in Tiananmen Square, to ask their government for more freedom, more liberties, and more democracy.
For several days, the eyes of the world were fixed on Beijing. People the world over, young people especially, stood in awe at the move, stunned by the sheer magic of it all. At first, there was a wonderful spirit of celebration in the air. The Chinese government didn't immediately react. The celebration grew larger. Around the world, people were starting to get hopeful.
The winds of change were starting to blow, back then, you see. And it was these young people who fanned them, twenty years ago.
Of course I remember these events clearly. I myself was a young student, back then. Those would turn out to be the last years of the Cold War, and it was a spectacular time to be young. We had grown up in a world of unimaginable threats. The world had raised us in the belief that there were deep divisions between us. Communists and capitalists. East and West. Black and white...
But guess what? We disagreed.
The generations before had imposed those divisions -- now, we questioned "why?" The generations before had sung songs about how pretty the world could be, if only it were different -- now, we were ready to change things. A generation before greedily preached that we should accept these divisions, and profit from them. But we were greedier: We didn't want the half of the world that we were allowed. We wanted the whole world, as our playground.
We stood defiant, proud, downright cocky. We were, we are the young people at the turn of history.
One cold day, in June, 1989, I was attending a Catholic youth convention. 700 young people, all of us seniors in high school, or college students. All of us enthusiastic, and open minded. Of course we talked about what was going on, half a world away, in China. At first we had been hopeful and happy about it. But as the days went by, there were signs that something big was going to happen. We started to worry. But our lives had to go on.
On that day, one of several during the convention, all of us were in an auditorium, hearing a speech. Suddenly, one of the organizers came into the hall. He hurried towards the stage, and hastily made his way to the microphone.
He apologized to the speaker, then took the microphone, and addressed us:
"We just got the news that the Chinese Army has been called in to quell the protests in Tiananmen Square...
As all of you know, these were young people... college students. People just like you.
They didn't deserve this. All they were asking for is for a bit of freedom... to live their lives in peace... the reports are coming in... there are many dead... several hundred. Possible even thousands...
Just think about that for a moment. Right now, we have seven hundred people in this auditorium...
I'll ask all of us to pause for just a minute, and say a prayer for these young people."
I'm never going to forget that moment, I'm never going to forget how my heart sank, how immensely crushed I felt that day.
Even now, twenty years after the events, the whole truth about Tiananmen Square is unknown, and will probably remain so. Credit the painfully efficient Chinese govenment cover-up machinery for this.
We may never know how many people died that day. There may never be a monument to their memories. Their names have been deleted from history, in the name of progress, in the name of the future, in the name of "peace."
But it is precisely these nameless young men and women, who died that day, upon whom we have built our future -- our present.
Soon after the Tiananmen Square demonstrations, the winds of change reached Eastern Europe. By the end of 1989, the Berlin Wall had fallen, communist regimes were dissolved, and the Cold war was over.
By 1990, Nelson Mandela was freed, and Apartheid was on its way out. By 1991, the Soviet Union would no longer exist.
And every time, it was the young people who made it happen. The young, bright eyed sons and daughters who demanded an end to the fear, who pushed for this new world. Look at the photographs of the era... the photos of young germans, smashing the bricks of the wall. The young south africans, dancing in the streets of Soweto, after Mandela's liberation. Look at the pictures of young men and women, the world over, heralding the coming of a new age, of a new world, different, diverse, and united.
To many of you, this is ancient history. It's not a big deal. Not that important, not even worth mentioning. Which leaves the old timers like me, still high on the spirit of my times, to keep the flame alight...
Twenty years ago, thousands of unnamed young people were killed by the Chinese government. Their crime was to be young.
On that day, they gave the world their most precious gift. For that, they shall remain youthful forever.
Epilogue: One year later, I was in Austin, Texas, an engineering freshman, making the mistake of starting my academic run on the Summer Session, 1990.
After somehow managing to make it through the mess of registration, at the Frank Erwin Center, on the UT campus, I left the Center, and met a few recruiters for the many different student groups. They were looking for new members, amongst the recently registered students. I approached a skydiving group, and got a brochure about doing a jump.
As I looked to find my way back to the dorm, someone approached me, and without saying anything, she tied a yellow cloth ribbon, around my arm.
"We're having a candlelight vigil, to remember the students from Tiananmen Square..."
She gave me a pamphlet, and it had a picture of the "Goddess of Democracy" statue from Tiananmen Square. The time and date of the vigil, and a little explanation of the yellow ribbon. "We're praying for the return of the martyrs of Tiananmen."
I didn't go, and I regret not going. My excuse is that I was very young (I started college young). I was in a brand new town, taking too many things in, to be bothered by a candlelight vigil...
But there's a few boxes I've left with my family, back in Texas. Amongst them, a box with things that I've kept through the years, and which I treasure beyond words.
The skydiving brochure isn't there. But the yellow ribbon is.
Epilogue two: Yes, I know the brutal irony of my porn, being done on "Made in China" tablet... >>;
