OPINION: Ronnie Endozo: Abuse did not make you successful. You succeeded despite it.

Success does not validate suffering.

There is a particular story that resurfaces every few years in Filipino culture, especially within the LGBTQIA+ community.

A successful gay person stands on a stage, looks back on a difficult childhood, and says something like: “Binugbog ako ng tatay ko noon, pero nagpapasalamat pa rin ako dahil naging maayos ang buhay ko.”

The audience cries. The comments fill with praise. Suddenly, violence is transformed into a love language.

And that should worry us.

I understand why Dr. Ronie Endozo’s story resonates with many Filipinos. Reconciliation is powerful. Forgiveness is powerful. Choosing not to carry bitterness for the rest of your life is admirable. If he has found peace with his father and his past, that is his right and his personal journey.

But personal healing should never become public policy.

The danger begins when individual survival stories are presented as proof that physical abuse works.

It doesn’t.

What Ronie experienced was not simply “discipline.” By his own account, his father repeatedly beat him with a bamboo pole because he was gay and because his father believed he could somehow “straighten” him out.

That is not discipline.

That is violence motivated by rejection of a child’s identity.

The fact that Ronie eventually became successful does not retroactively justify what happened to him.

If a person survives a car crash and later becomes a millionaire, we do not start recommending car crashes as character-building exercises.

Success does not validate suffering.

As comedian and LGBTQIA+ advocate Bekimon pointed out in his response, “Ang pambubugbog ng magulang sa anak ay hindi kasiguraduhan na magiging maayos ang buhay ng anak.”

That is the entire conversation in one sentence.

For every Ronie Endozo who became successful, there are countless queer Filipinos whose stories never made it to television.

There are queer kids who developed anxiety.

Queer kids who struggle with depression.

Queer kids who grew up believing they were defective.

Queer kids who self-harmed because the people who were supposed to love them convinced them that who they were was wrong.

Those stories rarely go viral because trauma is less marketable than redemption.

Bekimon’s response was important because he separated outcomes from methods. He acknowledged that Ronie’s success is real while refusing to credit physical abuse for it.

“So pwede rin naman magtagumpay sa buhay kahit hindi bugbugin,” he wrote.

Exactly.

Many successful LGBTQIA+ Filipinos were raised without being beaten.

Many became achievers because they were encouraged, supported, protected, and loved.

The queer community should be especially careful about romanticizing parental violence because our history is already filled with stories of rejection disguised as concern.

Parents often say they hit because they love.

They insult because they love.

They humiliate because they love.

They try to “correct” queerness because they love.

Intentions do not erase consequences.

A parent may sincerely believe they are helping while simultaneously inflicting lifelong psychological damage.

That is why narratives like “hagupit ng pagmamahal” are so dangerous. In the hands of an abusive parent, they become permission. They become evidence. They become justification for the next slap, the next punch, the next child told that pain is proof of love.

The lesson we should take from Ronie’s story is not that abuse creates successful people.

The lesson is that human beings are remarkably resilient.

Ronie succeeded because of his intelligence, determination, talent, and perseverance.

The bamboo did not earn the doctorate.

The beatings did not build the career.

The violence did not create the success.

He did.

And queer children deserve to hear that they can thrive without first being broken.

READ: