When senator Robin Padilla said that today's youth is weaker because they talk about depression, what he is really telling is not the fragility of OUR generation, but his generation’s forced silence.
According to him, back in his days, the word “depression” was not that common—which is precisely the problem. The absence of a word does not mean the absence of pain. It only means that the pain had nowhere to go.
For years, Filipino children were taught endurance, not expression. Boys were told not to cry. Girls were told to adjust and tolerate. Anxiety was seen as “arte”. Trauma was seen as “pagsubok lang sa buhay.” Abuse being disguised as discipline. We survived, yes, but survival does not mean you come out unscarred. A nation that prides itself as a resilience often forgets to ask what exactly are the people recovering from.
On paper, the data also shows that the youth is not just simply dramatic. The World Health Organization claims that roughly 1 in 7 adolescents experience mental health conditions on a global basis. And to add a heavier and disturbing fact, the Philippine Statistic Authority data has showed that suicide cases rising sharply in recent years, peaking during and after the pandemic, with thousands of recorded deaths annually and a significant proportion involving individuals aged 15 to 29. These are not just numbers or statistics. These are funerals.
And yet, instead of asking why young Filipinos feel overwhelmed, we are quick to accuse them of weakness. Look at the landscape they inherited. A hyperconnected world where comparison never sleeps. An education system that equates worth with grades. A job market that demands experience before opportunity. A climate crisis that promises instability. Add to that a political culture that often models hostility over empathy. If they are anxious, perhaps it is because they are paying attention.
There is a difference between overusing a term and invalidating a condition. Yes, “I’m depressed” can sometimes be said casually. But dismissing it outright risks trivializing those who are clinically struggling. The responsible approach is not ridicule; it is literacy. Mental health awareness does not make children fragile. It makes them informed.
This is not about romanticizing youth. They are not perfect. They can be impulsive, distracted, occasionally self-indulgent. But they are also more open about boundaries, more willing to confront toxicity, more conscious of consent, and more fluent in conversations about mental health than any generation before them. That is not decay. That is evolution.
Don’t blame the kids for speaking a language your generation was never allowed to learn. Blame the systems that forced silence for so long. If our generation is louder about its struggles, it may be because we refuse to inherit silence as a virtue. We are not weaker for naming our wounds. We are simply unwilling to pretend they are not there.
Written by Lirus, Insight PH
Lirus, Insight PH is a dedicated campus journalist and contributor. Their insightful writing sparks meaningful conversations and keeps the community informed.
