FEATURE
BIG
BROTHER Kim Libarnes Illustration by Christine Mae Alferan
I remember when I took shelter behind the beloved love fats of my mother and used it to my defense—a human shield, capable of serving justice against the big neighborhood bully who wouldn’t return my basketball even after several minutes of screaming ambi ba! I, with swollen eyes ready to burst into an embarrassing scene of tears and whines, was saved with just seconds to spare as mother, with one hand on mine and the other squeezing the rosy ear of the now-pleading tormentor, drags the latter towards his home in another episode of David vs. Goliath guest featuring my superwoman who saved, yet again, my bum from a busted gut and possibly one or two black eyes. Two fingers were enough for her to silence Ramon, while I struggled using all ten of mine just to try and grasp his bat-like arms. Flash forward some 20 — maybe 21 years after and we come across bigger bullies, not just your typical wedgiegiving, locker-stuffing, wet-willie fingering jocks that take delight out of beating you around but the real deal; from teachers that harass, buy-and-sell scammers, and even down to underwearstealing ex-girlfriends. Unfortunately, not all bullies are scared of our mothers. This danger paves the way for a gap, a void that is yet to be filled by a shield, a pillar that provides safety and reassurance to the oppressed. With modern technological advancements upon us, millennials and Gen Z alike can now seek refuge behind substitute prosecutors, cutting through the hassle of filing complaints in the turtle-paced offices that shroud our justice system. This, with the likes of Facebook confession pages such
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TODAY’S CAROLINIAN | DECEMBER 2019
