04/11/2025
๐๐๐๐๐๐ | The Weight of Silence, and the Lessons to be Learned
Thereโs something profoundly cruel about reading the words โEmman Atienza has passed away.โ She was only nineteen โ bright, funny, painfully honest. Her life felt like it was just starting to unfurl, but the world had other plans. And as tributes pour in, the same question hangs heavy in the air: how many more reminders do we need before we start taking mental health seriously?
Emman wasnโt a celebrity in the traditional sense, but she had that rare kind of visibility that made you feel like you knew her. The daughter of Kim Atienza, she often shared pieces of herself online: her thoughts on therapy, her struggles, her small victories. She was candid about the dark corners of her mind, the ones most of us hide. And yet, for all her honesty, even she wasnโt spared from the storm inside her own head.
Itโs tempting to romanticize that kind of vulnerability, to call it bravery and move on. But the truth is uglier. Visibility doesnโt always mean safety. Talking about mental health doesnโt always mean healing. Sometimes itโs just someone screaming into the void, hoping the echo will sound like help.
We have this cultural obsession with resilience, especially in the Philippines. โLaban lang,โ we say, as if grit alone could exorcise depression. We glorify survival but dismiss struggle. And people like Emman pay the price for that attitude. You can post your sadness, write your truth, beg for understanding โ but the world still expects you to smile and carry on. Until you canโt.
Whatโs tragic is that Emman was doing what society tells us to do: she spoke up. She sought help. She tried. But even the bravest people get tired of fighting battles no one else can see. Maybe thatโs what hurts most โ she did everything โright,โ and it still wasnโt enough.
Her father, Kim Atienza, asked the public for one simple thing: kindness. And maybe thatโs the beginning of the solution. Not grand awareness campaigns or performative hashtags. Just basic human kindness. A little more softness in how we treat each other. A little more patience when someone seems โoff.โ A little more listening when silence feels too loud.
If Emmanโs story does anything, let it remind us that mental health isnโt a slogan โ itโs survival. Itโs messy, ongoing, and fragile. It needs attention, resources, and compassion. It needs people who care enough to notice when someoneโs fading behind the filter of โIโm fine.โ
So check in on your friends. Text the one who disappeared from the group chat. Be gentle with the people around you, and of course, with yourself. Because sometimes, the smallest act of care is what keeps someone here another day.
Emmanโs gone, and thatโs a loss we canโt undo. But we can make sure her story doesnโt just end in mourning. We can make it mean something. Something quieter, but lasting: a reminder that silence kills, and kindness saves.
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Article by: Lindsay Allison Gabriel
Cartoon by: Darlene Zoie Montialto
