I often get mad at myself for having opinions, but never doing anything with my opinions. Instead of doing literally anything with them, they sink down to the bottom of my pockets and become overshadowed by candy wrappers, fast-food receipts, and a few spare cents.
When I came to UC Berkeley, I was thrilled at the thought of seeing people braver than me. People who could spend their opinions without the hindrance of fear. If I could simply break through to that circle, then I’d find the “right” time to express my thoughts. If I could find the “right” opportunities by finding the “right” organizations, then all my opinions would thrive. I needed excuses to keep waiting, to keep letting my opinions sink.
As the first semester passed me by, so did many remarks of the unhoused here. They were society’s pests that had no real pest control. They were the right-hand men of the boogey-man. They were simply not human. I couldn’t believe how many students were disgusted by the unhoused. While there’s nothing wrong with wanting to be cautious outside, to ultimately villainize an entire group of people — real, living people with fleshed out stories of hardship and sorrow, joy and nostalgia — is wrong. And whenever I was in a conversation with a peer who had these views, suddenly, my opinions seemed to poke out of my pockets.
Still, I shoved my opinions down, keeping their true depth to myself. The most I did was disagree with people, telling them that the unhoused deserve better, before going on with my day. During this time, I was waiting around to see more outspoken people. If I could just find the right person to aspire to be, then I’d be able to share my opinions properly, the way I truly wanted to do. At UC Berkeley, they say the campus is full of the next-generation innovators, creators, carers. They’ll change the world. They’ll make their own paths for people to follow. And it’s not that I don’t believe that, but I started to realize that many people were more like me than I originally thought, frugal with sharing their opinions or perhaps lucky enough to not need to form one.
This is when I started getting mad at myself. I have opinions, of course I do, but I’m not doing anything with them. I’m not giving back to the community, I’m not trying to advocate, I’m not even thinking about change. But, if I’m so mad, why don’t I start? Why don’t I try to find ways to give back, to truly mean what I say and do? After I got over my first semester slump, I turned my anger into action.
“Why don’t I try to find ways to give back, to truly mean what I say and do? After I got over my first semester slump, I turned my anger into action.”
Sienna Villalobos
The first thing I did was see what I could give to the unhoused. What organizations are good here? What shelters are nearby? If I have enough money myself, why not give them food with water? Secondly, I stopped stalling on finding organizations where I could express myself (which led me here!) because waiting for the right time was procrastination. Lastly, I backed myself up. Why would I be afraid if people thought I was too vocal? Why wouldn’t I be proud to wear my opinion? Why wouldn’t I want to be myself?
Although my steps are small, they’re steps nonetheless. I want to be the advocate for people who’ve had their voices shunned for so long because, growing up, I always felt that my voice was shunned. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I don’t want to wait. I don’t want excuses to cover up the passion I know I have. I want to be the change I’ve always wanted to see.