Anyone who went to high school with me, or has taken a college class with me, knows I’m never the first to speak or start a discussion. I’m the type who waits to be called on rather than raising my hand.
My mom always found it funny when teachers described me as “quiet” or “shy.” At home, I’ve never been either. Since I could talk, I’ve been loud. I talk nonstop, sing around the house, walk heavily, and my volume is always closer to a yell than a whisper. Beyond the literal noise, I’ve always been opinionated, which is another reason my mom insists I’m anything but quiet. So, hearing that I shrink into silence in academic settings has always surprised her.
I’ve never liked confrontation. I avoid conflict whenever I can, especially around peers who make problematic jokes or comments. The place where I grew up lacked diversity in almost every sense, and that shaped the way people spoke and what they believed. I’ve always understood that environment plays a huge role in shaping political and social views. When you’re never exposed to different perspectives, your sense of what’s “important” becomes narrow. I saw that firsthand for years.
Even so, I’ve learned to tolerate discomfort when it comes to speaking up about what I believe. My social media has become a home for reposts about current events and advocacy of all kinds. It’s not because I enjoy conflict; it’s because staying silent feels worse.
The classic Republican-versus-Democrat debate has a reputation for being hostile, and today, both parties look very different from what they once represented. The “big three” issues—abortion, guns, and LGBTQIA+ rights—used to be the quickest way to figure out where someone stood politically. Now, conversations often shift toward immigration, the economy, and transgender rights.
Where I struggle most is when someone claims politics don’t affect their life, so they have no opinion. I understand that many people were raised in households where politics weren’t discussed, but the reality is that it’s nearly impossible to avoid now. If you have any form of social media, news coverage is everywhere. Saying you’re unaware of what’s happening in America today isn’t realistic. At this point, it’s not a lack of awareness; it’s a demonstration of ignorance.
I have more respect for someone who disagrees with me but can defend their beliefs than someone who refuses to engage at all. I can’t understand how staying neutral or uninformed helps us move forward. Archbishop Desmond Tutu said it best: “If you are neutral in situations of injustice, you have chosen the side of the oppressor.” Neutrality right now isn’t harmless, it’s dangerous.
People love to reference horrific moments in history, like slavery or the Holocaust, and ask where they would have stood. We don’t need hypotheticals anymore. While we haven’t reached those extremes on American soil, we’re seeing patterns that echo the past. You don’t need to ask what you would have done then, you can look at what you’re doing now.
Many people, especially college-age, care more about curating the perfect Instagram feed or keeping their social circle comfortable than sharing anything that reveals their stance on current events. I genuinely applaud anyone who makes speaking up part of their routine.
Wherever you stand on immigration, border control, or your opinions on Donald Trump, we’ve entered a moment that is bigger than politics. This is about humanity. Staying silent in the face of unregulated power and force threatens democracy and everything this country claims to value.
I may never be the first to raise my hand in class, and I still don’t enjoy confrontation, but I’ve learned that speaking up isn’t about comfort. It’s about responsibility. We’re living in a moment where choosing not to engage is still a choice, and it carries consequences far beyond our personal bubbles. Whether we like it or not, politics shape the world we wake up in every day, and pretending otherwise only protects the systems that harm the most vulnerable. Using your voice—online, in conversations, in the smallest ways—won’t solve everything, but it’s a step toward the kind of future we claim to want. If we care about humanity, justice, and the values we say define us, then silence can’t be our default anymore