We did it; we broke the ice and we talked about feminism. How are you doing? We threw a lot at you last month, and I apologize (but not really) for continuing the stream of challenging topics.

Amy Simmons offered her opinion on the matter of feminism in her article “The F Word” that can be found in the March edition of Muse. Her article aimed to deconstruct the term that has gained such a specific stigma in our culture. She addressed what feminism looks like for her as a woman and as a Christian, and while that is a necessary component to discuss, I have been fraught with the same question all semester. As I have been thinking about what it means to be a feminist and what feminist scholars are actually trying to say, I can’t help but ask: what does feminism mean for men?

Feminism is for everyone as it opposes not men but a system of patriarchy that is oppressive to both males and females.

Let’s talk about this.

We here on the Muse staff are big fans of TED talks and I recently watched one that spoke directly to the question that has been prodding me for months now.

In “A Call to Men,” Tony Porter speaks of the effects that a patriarchal culture has on young men as it produces men that objectify women, assert their dominance, and perpetuate the very culture that stifled their compassion, emotions, and empathy. As Porter recalls moments from his own upbringing and his experience as a parent of a young boy, he presents what can only be viewed as a vicious cycle.

Feminist scholars have been clear about this from the beginning: our patriarchal culture is oppressive to women as it lays upon them one way to live and act and be feminine. But as many of these scholars would agree and as Porter presents, that culture also puts the same constricting expectations on men. We allow men to act in one specific way: non-emotional, tough, dominant, and detached, just as we allow women to act in only one specific manner.

The opposition of patriarchy, what many feminists claim to be the aim of a feminist politic, is something that should be embraced by both genders as the patriarchal structure is damaging and reductive to all people and our culture as a whole.

Of course, this is my take on Porter’s presentation coupled with my own thoughts and study over the past few months. I would encourage you to listen to Porter’s 11 minute talk and his call for men to break out of “the man box” and to reject our culture’s definition of maleness in order to create a better future, a future that is not dictated by patriarchy.

Makenzie Halbert, Senior, English Major

Thanks for reading,
Makenzie Halbert

We see ourselves falling, we see the church fading away saint by saint, and we sit back and get angry. We get mad that things don’t fit our ideals. We sit on a sinking ship and complain about all the water. We watch the world around burn, and we sit in our cynicism and say there is nothing to be done about it now.

Sure, we are willing to click a button and sign a change.org petition. We regularly repost viral videos about issues halfway around the world we knew nothing about until three and a half minutes ago. Maybe we might even put our ideas on a page and write an anonymous letter, but something in us refuses to say “I believe this”. We refuse to put ourselves in the middle of an issue in a way that reveals our true voice or personality.

Calling something unjust is saying something is wrong, and if we believe something is wrong then that means we claim to have at least some loose grasp on what is right. It seems as though that is simply not something we are willing to say. There is risk in that, and we may look foolish if we fail. Though we may never see mountains move, let us believe God is able to do so. We know some sliver of truth; we have a blueprint for justice, for love, and for compassion.

Activism does not need to be about altering this particular moment in time. Sometimes activism can mean changing our hearts in a moment and pouring that new spirit out into the world around us. Politics aside, it cannot be denied that our culture began to change the day President Obama was voted into office. Some of the cynics have lost satisfaction in their moment of hope five years ago because things have not changed like we were promised. Other skeptics are concerned with what the world is becoming. Few continue to press into a hope of a better tomorrow. What we are blind to see, I would humbly claim, is that something began to change. Our generation is probably right: we cannot change this year in our history so much so that life will be better for those who follow us because we wrote this one letter or took to the streets on a single afternoon. It’s true. It won’t do much at all.

But if we continue to write, to move, to speak aloud in the moments when our hearts are stirred and our conscience pulled upon, rather than sitting back and analyzing the wreckage, we can begin to blaze a path towards the change we desire to see. Activism is not a day of shouting with a sign in hand. It is a position of the spirit that proclaims our belief that a better tomorrow can and should exist, and our refusal to rest regardless of whether we get to see that change. Activism is a spirit of perseverance. Because we may not change the world around us, and we may not get the prize at the end of the race, but we can be a stepping stone of change for our cultural climate and a vital component to the change that one day may occur.

There have been a lot of “mights” and “mays” here, and I mean that. I refuse to send you a message that being active is about accomplishments. I have a hard time believing Jesus’ biggest concern for our lives is what our actions result in. I am not so convinced that those who have experienced success will get a bigger mansion than those who have suffered many failures. I hold no notion that Christ will sit on the judgement seat and ask to see what we have done, but rather, why it is that we have done it. Because we live in a world that people do not really want to change, it is difficult to work only to see that world destroy itself again. I want to change because justice and love exist–of this I have no doubt. If we live in a world yet to come, and we are not praying for the rapture every night before bed, then we should be tirelessly striving to see our communities reflect the justice and love we claim to have faith will come. Tomorrow begins today, even when tomorrow is eternity.

Amy Simmons, Senior, Psychology Major

The family art is a mysterious one but it is by far the most common. What has anyone to do with art? Everything. From our birth we are subsumed into a creative art that is as old as Eve. One person from others, one family from many. A man, Jacob Subchenko, moved from Europe to North Dakota. His son Walter moved to California, and his son Robert, after going to school, moved back to his hometown in Lodi, California. Mignon Henriques moved from Jamaica to Southern California so her husband could serve in WWII. Her youngest daughter, Jamie, became a Christian and met a man from Lodi, California at her church. Their youngest son has written this sentence. I moved to Portland, Oregon in 2010. An American was a foreigner in my family 150 years ago. One hundred fifty years from now, those along my line will only see me as a man moving from one city to another, marrying a woman and having kids that will be their great-grandparents. They will only be able to quantify my creative influence on their lives by the fact that they are a child of a child of a child of a child of mine: but I am nothing new.

Art, in the musical, visual, or literary sense, seems to me to be family-like. How can a musician create a tune that is not influenced by the past? Even those who don’t claim a genre can only move away from what was done. A new literary form is only a repulsion from, or revision of, an old form. Art is created, but not out of nothing. We dance and sing due to a long lineage of humans trying to let loose what is bound in them. It is the beauty of art that is impossible to disconnect from the past. A new movement is a new branch on the same tree. I can create only from the art which has already made me. Try not to make something new, for all is old: old but not dead.

Matthew Howen, Senior, English Major

It is an honor to bring the Faith & Culture Writers Conference to Multnomah University on April 5 and 6, 2013 (http://faithandculturewriters.com/home/)

As an adjunct professor at Multnomah University, where I serve as faculty advisor for Muse student publication, I am thrilled that Multnomah has caught the vision for this conference, as we are housing the conference under Student Services here.

I have been a freelance journalist for The Oregonian since 1996, specializing in faith, culture, family, and community stories. Over the years, people have asked me how I got started writing and how I am able to share so many stories of faith. I believe that our culture is hungry for stories that share hope and faith and community. We need to be looking for those stories and be willing to share them. Creativity and the literary arts — indeed, all the arts — are a gift from the Creator.
As I began sharing how God has opened the door for me to share stories of hope in the newspaper, I realized there was such a wide interest in writing and so I decided to start a Writers Connection at my church a few years ago. As we brought in guest speakers and authors, they really connected with what we were doing in bringing together writers of faith to network and connect.

I began dreaming of a larger event where we would gather hundreds of creative people of faith together at a conference to engage, encourage, challenge, inspire, and validate one another in this mutual creative calling on our lives. That led to Portland’s first Faith & Culture Writers Conference at Western Seminary in 2011 where about 200 people gathered to hear authors, bloggers, theologians, activists, literary agents, and journalists share about their writing lives.
Flash forward two years later, and here we are for the 2013 Faith & Culture Writers Conference at Multnomah!

I love connecting and validating fellow believers to encourage them to embrace their creative calling. I have always viewed my writing as a ministry, as a calling, as a way to share truth. Quoting Martin Luther, I believe that, “If you want to change the world, pick up your pen and write.”
God has brought together others alongside me (Bethany Jackson, Kari Patterson, Ashley Larkin and Ana Brors) to help shape and bring this conference to Multnomah. I am truly grateful for them.

We are excited about our top-notch lineup of speakers for 2013. Some big names — William Paul Young, author of the Shack, Ken Wytsma, The Justice Conference Founder, Brian Doyle, author of 13 books, Dan Merchant, “Lord, Save Us From Your Followers” filmmaker and producer, Paul Louis Metzger, Ph.D., Professor of Christian Theology & Theology of Culture at Multnomah Biblical Seminary and Director of The Institute for the Theology of Culture: New Wine, New Wineskins, and Randy Woodley, Distinguished Associate Professor of Faith and Culture at George Fox Evangelical Seminary.

We also have some lesser known names whom I am excited to introduce into the conversation around the intersection of faith and culture and the arts– Keith Turley, author, publisher and marketer from Seattle, Tyler Braun, 20-something Multnomah Biblical Seminary graduate, pastor, blogger, and author, Chris C Haynes, who attended Multnomah for a year and now blogs for the Portland Trail Blazers, and Christal MN Jenkins, speaker and author of three books. All in all, we have 25 presenters! Brent Looyenga, a Multnomah Biblical Seminary student, is photographing our event, and Martin French, an exquisite artist, illustrator, and art professor, who once again designed our classy “words” logo.
One of the things noted on the survey we took after the conference in 2011 was that people wanted more fellowship during the conference and time to talk with fellow attendees and speakers. So we have added Friday night this year, and an after the event social hour on Saturday.

Pre-registration for the conference is $65 and students are only $25. That’s 25 speakers for 25 dollars-a dollar a speaker! Day of registration is $75 (students again only $25).

Feel free to shoot me an email with questions at cornelia@corneliaseigneur.com
You may also get a hold of our conference administrative assistant Bethany Jackson at newbethany1@gmail.com

Cornelia Becker Seigneur, Muse Faculty Advisor

The above Rockwell painting (Norman Rockwell “Abstract and Concrete” 1963) masterfully depicts a common perception of abstract art. The man gazes at the painting and, though only his back is shown, one can’t help but see he hasn’t the slightest idea how to approach the splattered nonsense before him. I’ve heard many claim that such a random mess of ink cannot be art, often telling the tale of a few nameless researchers who gave paint to some particularly avant-garde elephants and tricked renowned critics into thinking the animals’ works of “art” were human masterpieces.

In all truth, I once held the same opinion. To my shame, I even mocked my high school humanities teacher by crumpling a piece of paper, throwing it on the ground in front of her, and obnoxiously exclaiming, “Look! I’ve created ART!” Since then though, I have come to see that my own disdain for this form came from a deep misunderstanding of its purpose and, in turn, how to approach it. I am certainly no expert in this field, but my mind has experienced a drastic change in this area and I hope to provoke others to consider appreciating this often misunderstood medium.

Abstract art conveys realities that all human beings experience, but none can wholly express through more “conventional” means of communication. Warmth, cold, satisfaction, defeat, tranquility, chaos: to one extent or another, we will all experience these abstract emotions throughout the course of our lives. However, the constraints inherent to speech limit us in such a way that our descriptions of such abstractions are almost always wrapped up in concrete metaphors. To see what I mean, take a moment and try to describe “redness” without referring to anything red. Stop reading, find a friend, and just talk about “red;” not red things, just “red.” Don’t worry, I’ll wait for you…

You may have said red is warm, passionate, bright, cheery, glowing or any other such word, but such a description falls short of moving the listener to experience “redness” at its core. It simply describes “red” with other equally abstract ideas that are generally associated with things that are red. Red is warm because many warm things, such as fire, sunburns, or blood, are red. These words fall somewhat short of explaining “redness” in and of itself.

Enter abstract art. Unlike most other media, this form allows us to feel and experience such abstract realities without stepping out of the realm of abstraction. Jackson Pollock’s “Autumn Rhythm” does not depict any particular event in autumn such as falling leaves or crisp breezes that hint the coming winter chill. Yet the sweeping strokes and speckles of black, brown, and white in their varying shades convey the brisk cold and sense of change that characterize the season. When looking at this painting, one does not see anything concretely autumn, but the feeling of autumn is remarkably present.

When approaching abstract art, many will ask questions such as “What does this mean?” or “What is this supposed to be?” and understandably so, especially considering how appropriate and helpful these questions are in most other forms of art and communication. But to ask these questions of an abstract expression is to attempt to reroute the work from the abstract into the concrete. Instead, we should simply let our eyes feast upon the piece and pour through every inch in aesthetic wonder. What it means is mostly beside the point; much more important is what it conveys. This is admittedly subjective, yet even this subjectivity is part of the artist’s intent. By choosing an abstract form, an artist recognizes that a certain kind of clarity is lost. The viewer may very well see something different than what the artist had in mind as they swept their brush across the canvas. But even so, if the artist has accomplished their goal well, both the artist and participant will be overtaken by a similar emotive experience when interacting with the completed work.

Every form of communication has its own strengths and shortcomings. Although abstract art runs the risk of being lost in foggy subjectivity, it also holds the potential to convey abstract experience and emotion with unrivaled force and depth. In this way, it holds unique value and ought to be appreciated for its contribution to human expression.

So then dear reader, I would encourage you to take a trip to the Portland Art Museum and spend an afternoon perusing the galleries displaying more abstract works. Scan a room and find a piece that grabs your heart; then position yourself in front of it for a moment and just stare. Take it all in. If you don’t like it, good! Push out any thought of what it is you don’t like and simply bask in your derision. If another painting brings a sense of calm, good! Let your eyes wander through the painting or sculpture and feel the peace seep out from every pore of the canvas and allow it to overtake you. For many, this will be a challenging and uncomfortable exercise; it certainly was for me as I first began approaching abstract art in this way. Yet after a time, I hope you will see the value of this form and experience the wonder when seemingly haphazard strokes and scribbles sing (and sometimes scream) to your very soul.

Ethan Knudson, Senior, Biblical Languages Major

Portland has many unique eateries and restaurants. From Ethiopian to Japanese and beyond, there seems to be no end to the variety of food that our city has to offer. Among the unique, and something that stands out as a Portland favorite as well as being widely admired and copied around the U.S., are the food carts. “Fried Egg I’m in Love” is the first food cart I have reviewed because I have stuck strictly to breakfast restaurants and diners. The cart is definitely an exception and a very tasty one at that.

From the “Egg Zeppelin” (2 eggs, 2 sausage patties, cheddar cheese and aardvark aioli) to the “OK Commuter” (Over hard egg, bacon and cheddar), all the sandwiches in the truck are characterized by musical references, including the name of the cart itself. If these breakfast concoctions sound simple, think again. Using farm fresh eggs and other fresh ingredients, simple is a poor adjective. Think fresh, crisp, buttery, rich, and flavorsome. These guys take simple, pack it full of flavor, smack it between two pieces of bread, wrap it in paper, and let the flavor punch you in the mouth.

If you have ever tried to find breakfast on Hawthorne Boulevard (or in Southeast Portland for that matter) before 9 a.m., you know that the options are slim. This is one of the few early bird places (open at 7:30 a.m. Tuesday through Friday) that boasts a delectable and innovative menu. Located on Hawthorne and 32nd, it is a short drive from campus and worth the commute for a reasonably priced and tasty breakfast. Remember, it is a food cart, so if it’s cold outside, bundle up and wear a hat — we wouldn’t want anyone getting a cold. They are not the most timely food cart around, but the food is well worth the short wait. The portions are decent, not great, but for the price I would say it is about right. So as warm weather approaches and you get weary of the cafeteria food, treat yourself to something new for breakfast.

Slightly caffeinated and often discontent,
Your fellow breakfast hunter,

Beau Stumberg, Junior, Psychology Major

By Laura Griffith

Rock harmonies and cigarette smoke floated out the open door into the street. A couple young men and a red-haired girl sat on the sidewalk playing their guitars and singing. A well-dressed man passed by the door and wrinkled his nose.

Inside the studio, Sophie and the band were perfecting their last song for the album, under George’s supervision. As the last strains of music faded, George cut the recording and heaved a sigh.

“That’s it!” he said. “We’ll shoot the pictures for the cover tomorrow, Sophie.”
“You’ll be taking those?” she asked.
“Yeah. Hey, listen, I’ve got a new song I want to show you. Stick around, alright?”
“Sure, just get me out of this room. The heat’s making me develop claustrophobia.”

Sophie stood up and entered the main room.

At any given time in the day or night, there were usually about ten aspiring musicians hanging around George’s studio—more when George himself was there. They all hoped to get their big break when the boss heard them play, and while they were waiting, they talked about music and wasted their money on cigarettes and booze. George let them stay because they had potential and did odd jobs for him.

Thomas had been around, playing his guitar, keeping the other wannabes under control, and admiring Sophie for years. No one knew how he made enough money to live, but no one asked. They all wanted him to stay forever. The studio wouldn’t be the studio without Thomas.

As she took a seat, Sophie let out a sigh and turned her face toward the door.
Putting out his cigarette, Thomas came and sat next to her.

“Waitin’ for the boss?” he asked.
“Mm.”
“Role reversal.”
“What?”
“He’s been waitin’ for you long enough.” Thomas smiled at Sophie’s surprised expression. “Don’t you know he heard you sing in Boston five years ago? He’s been waitin’ for you to grow up ever since.”
“Boston…” Sophie muttered. “I like to pretend I’ve never been that far north.”
“What’s a high class girl like you doing in a joint like this, Sophie?” Thomas asked. She turned her grey eyes on him and he knew. “In a way, you have been waiting for the boss to grow up, too, haven’t you?” he said. “For him to grow up enough to see that there’s nothing magical about age.”
“Maybe,” Sophie murmured. And George walked in.

A rare cool day in Tennessee allowed Sophie and George to spend hours outdoors taking pictures.

“This lighting is amazing, Sophie,” George said. “The clouds are perfect, and you look beautiful. It’s a wonderful day for a photo shoot.”
“Wonderful day for a photoshoot,” Sophie echoed sarcastically. “I think six new zits appeared this morning.”
“Ah, I remember the days of acne,” George said with a smile. “But those days are long past. Anyone that suffers from acne would never notice anyone like me.”
“That’s not true,” Sophie retorted. He turned to look at her. They paused for a moment, each wondering the same thing.
“Is it time?” he whispered. “Have I waited long enough?”

Sophie approached him and took the camera from his hands. Setting it aside, she asked him, “Would you want to take care of a kid?”

“Could you possibly like an old man?” he asked. But Sophie placed her hands on either side of his face and said, “He aged well. I’m not sure I would have wanted him ten years younger.”

George pulled his little girl close and did what he had waited five years to do: he kissed her. But kisses are like wine—the longer you wait for them, the sweeter they are.

Inside the Music News Weekly building, Jonathan had just finished a job interview. She was plump and eager to please; he didn’t like her.

“Welcome to work, Sophie,” he said as his favorite piece of candy walked in from the morning air.
“The girl outside said she’d just interviewed for a job here,” Sophie said as she walked to her desk.
“That’s right.”
“I think you should hire her; she’d make a good journalist.”
“I’m not inclined to,” he said, leaning back in his chair. “For one thing, we don’t have an empty desk.”

Sophie snatched her crisp, new nameplate off her desk and dropped it in the trash.

“Now you do.” With that, she strode out of the office, across the street into the waiting arms of her favorite boss.

“Sophie,” George whispered into her ear. “‘Runaway Train’ hit iTunes at nine this morning. It’s already at the top of the charts.”
“No!” Sophie gasped, looking up into his face. “Really?”
He nodded. “Darling, you’re a star,” he said.
She pressed her lips to his.
“I love you,” she said.
“Ah, my little rock star,” he answered. “How lovable you are.”

Laura Griffith, Sophomore, English Major

Sometimes I get a feeling deep in my gut: it overflows into my mind and makes its way into the tips of my fingers. This feeling is emotional, deep, unpredictable, and usually impulsive. It is like a call from within to act, to do, and to create. If I do not feed this feeling, the emotion deepens and furthers itself in my gut, causing a sort of turmoil within. When I feed this emotion, I feel healthy and free.

“The creative bug has bitten!” I often say, mostly as an attempt to make light of my impulsive and irregular artistic outburst, but this little phrase holds some weight. It is as if I have been bitten by some experience or some image I saw that day that fed my heart. The only way to rid myself of such experience or emotion is to create. My creative impulse has taken many different shapes throughout my life, but most recently it takes shape when I throw paint on a canvas, mixing colors and shapes into some obscure image. The image could be totally unrelated to whatever experience aroused the fire within, but it is the expression of my feeling poured onto a canvas, freeing itself in some way from the prison of my being.

I do not write this in order to explain or even encourage such behavior for everyone, but many of you who read this, in some way, will relate. Artistic expression is something that I believe is neglected within the Multnomah community and the church as a whole. Somewhere in past generations, Christians have drawn a bold line between sacred and secular, between Christian and non-Christian. I have felt this in my own life when asked questions like “Is that a Christian musician?” or “Why don’t you make Christian art?” This leads me to not only question my own experience with Jesus but also my own internal impulses and desires. Are the impulses that so often knock on the door of my heart desiring attention Christian or un-Christian?

I think this is an irrelevant question because I do not think there is Christian art and non-Christian art. I think there are people, saved and unsaved, who create. These people, hopefully, in their honesty, create out of their hearts and being. When art is viewed in this light, it becomes hard to ask whether it is Christian or non-Christian because art is not simply a person striving for some standard or label. Rather, art is a true expression of what is happening within. As people create out of honesty, there will be art that relates to theology and God, but there will also be art that relates to fun, romance, pain, and darkness none of which are sacred or secular.

If you are an artist and have felt stifled by the Christian community because your art is not “Christian” enough, please hear what I am saying. We are created to create, whatever form that takes is left to the individual, but please do not ignore your God-given and encouraged impulses because of the line that others draw. Express yourself and embrace the beauty and life that can be found in artistic expression.

*These will be the sorts of questions discussed at Beautiful Response. This article was written to encourage artists at Multnomah to join in Beautiful Response and share with the student body their individual expressions.

Beau Stumberg, Junior, Psychology Major

I will never forget the feeling I was overcome with as I sat in a creative writing class two years ago at Multnomah. We were reading Franz Kafka’s Metamorphosis (mentioned in our December Lit Snip if you’re interested) and the professor asked us what we might be turned into if we had a metamorphic experience like Gregor does in the story. My response was immediate (it was also the first time I had spoken all semester in that class). Of course, I would be turned into a skittish, bashful, jumpy, bunny rabbit.

That was how I saw myself.

I was constantly hiding from the view of others and the easiest way to do that was to credit my natural inclination towards introversion and shyness and use it as an excuse to remain quiet, or even silent, in almost all situations.

This inclination on my part-to remain unheard and unseen-was not always a part of me. I grew up in a home where I was listened to and understood, where I was empowered both as a human and as a female. I was told that I had a voice worth being heard, as all people did. Despite this upbringing, somewhere along the line I began to experience how much easier, in the immediate sense of the term, it was to not speak, to not demand to be heard. It was “easier” to not rock the boat, it was “easier” to be seen as pleasant, quiet, shy, or just nice.

I don’t believe myself to be alone when I say that in our day-to-day lives, it makes things much more simple if we remain apathetic, if we don’t allow ourselves to care too much about a certain cause or issue we see, if we remain relatively good-natured and pleasant about our lives. It seems natural to fall into the mindset that using our voice is unnecessary as it will most likely do no good. It takes less effort on our part to assume that someone else will say what we think and they will probably say it better. Maybe someone does say something that was similar, maybe their thoughts, in your opinion, are more articulate, but that opinion is merely subjective. By our very nature, we are created uniquely, and it would stand to reason that our voices and our thoughts are also unique and worth being heard as we have no way of knowing who might be changed or positively affected by what we say aloud.

For me, beginning to use my voice was a simple choice, albeit a slow process.
It began with the recognition that I had not been utilizing a gift and a privilege that so many desire. It was a recognition of my own apathy, complacency, and in all honesty, selfishness and insecurity.

I started small, I started sharing my opinions in conversations with close friends and learning to process life with others, disregarding my fears that I might offend, be misunderstood or judged in some way. Then, I began contributing more in classes. There was always and there still is the fear that something I might say in class, regarding literature or theology or some other concept I am in no way an expert on, could sound less than intelligent or change the way some think about me. However, that fear, though it is driving, is not contributing to any form of growth or betterment for anyone involved. And honestly, I must humbly admit that the notion of others forever altering their view of me because of something I say is a little bit self-indulgent and self-centered. Lastly, if I am wrong, if tomorrow I contradict myself, good. That does not show weakness or stupidity and it should not be perceived that way by myself or anyone else.

Let it be known that this has not been, in any way, an independent conclusion on my part. I have sat under the teaching of professors who have changed my life and changed the way I think completely. If you have taken a class from Dr. Schaak, you have heard him talk about Ralph Waldo Emerson and you have probably heard him quote Emerson when he says, “Speak what you think today in words as hard as cannon balls, and tomorrow speak what tomorrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said today.”

We should be worried if the words we speak never contradict each other. We are not meant to be stagnant in our thinking or in our perspectives, and this is not something we should strive to accomplish.

We are all in positions where our voices are able to be heard, some more than others, but for the most part, being educated young adults in a country that places value on freedom of speech, we have a voice.

It is a disservice to ourselves, to the progress of our communities and our worlds to not use this voice. Additionally, it is an insult to those who are currently fighting, have fought, and will fight everyday to make their voices heard if we sit around and neglect the fact that our voices could be heard but we are just choosing not to use them.

We take this gift, because yes, it is not a right, it is a gift as so many brothers and sisters in other parts of the world would tell us, and we take it for granted.

Hear what I am saying: to use your voice does not necessitate anger or rage or aggressive outspokenness; it means simply to not negate a valuable asset we have been given as a privileged culture of young people.

Whatever form that voice takes on, embrace it. For me, my voice is best articulated and expressed when I write, so I began writing. I had always written, but I began to write publically, to use this medium as a way to express to a greater audience who I am and the voice I believe I have been given. Find your medium and find your voice. However you do it, speak, and speak loudly.

Makenzie Halbert, Senior, English Major