What started as a form of security became a threat through anonymity.
Anonymous confession walls aren’t new to this time and age—NGL, Retrospring, Curious Cat, DLSU Freedom Wall, PUP Freedom Wall, etc., you name it.
What started as an innocent way of connecting students once again, allowing them to confess, voice secrets, and share sentiments. It’s exciting and calm, isn’t it? Being able to express without getting exposed became something the campus pulse thrived on as a pastime, both raw and unfiltered.
But as weeks passed, those cries slowly became a guise of threat. A baseless accusation that became a method of chaos, spurred. What used to be a safe shield against vulnerability became a weapon wielded with cruelty—from freedom of speech, it became a scapegoat for accountability. Somehow… it now felt more of a mistake.
Notice how even the handlers can’t control the flood of messages students wish to disguise in anonymity, and how they mistakenly post a request meant to be done in private.
Imagine one contesting the other, educating instead of throwing insults or curses, or even dropping names for Peter’s sake. The confession wall was supposed to connect us all, our own little digital sanctuary built on honesty and vulnerability. Instead, it now mirrors the hierarchies and hostilities we, ironically, demand, bask in, and feed upon. It shines with engagement and drama, yet traps audiences in cycles of fear and ragebaiting methods: a prison in disguise of our own making.
True freedom isn’t found in hiding behind faceless words; it’s in owning up to them. Perhaps the problem isn’t the wall itself but how we’ve learned to use it. Maybe it’s now how comfortable we are behind a screen, secretly stepping upon one’s right to respect— One’s freedom ends where another’s freedom begins, as they say.
After all, what good is a wall for confessions and truth if no one feels safe standing behind it anymore? Or we could evolve differently?..
Hay buhay nga talaga ng mga Herons…
Written by Pilikmatang Kulotski
