The Power of Judgment (Part 2)

My family is sitting at the dinner table talking. I’m fourteen, still at the age where other people’s opinions don’t matter to me, where the problems of the world haven’t had an effect on me. My cousin has recently decided to double major in political science and aerospace engineering. “If she had decided to pursue engineering earlier, she could’ve gotten into great schools,” one of my parents comments. I wonder why that is, but the explanation comes soon after: she is a female and not many pursue engineering. Colleges want more females in STEM fields. It’s interesting how colleges try to initiate equality in their schools, but in doing so, end up isolating students by gender and color. They want more females in STEM fields so they can show others that women can do anything they want, but they have to make an effort to recruit females. Females won’t just be accepted on their own merit, but accepted because they are female.

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The Power of Judgment (Part 1)

She didn’t care what they thought of her. It was a Thursday evening, December 1, 1955. A 42-year-old black woman sat in the first row of the colored section on a Montgomery bus in Alabama. When the white section was filled, the bus driver asked her to give up her seat for a white man; she refused. Rosa Parks remained seated. White passengers were standing in the aisle, but Parks just sat. The driver called the police. At a stop, Parks was arrested. She knew she was judged for her skin color, told to stand up. But she refused to listen. The minute she stepped foot on the bus, they judged.

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The One Who Taught Me To Stand Up

I’m sitting next to the aisle toward the back of a Greyhound bus while my dad sits on the other side of the aisle. We’re on our way back to Latham from New York City. There’s 2% battery left on my phone. Crap. What am I gonna do without my music?

The driver makes an announcement in a slight, muffled accent, something about being considerate of other people and talking quietly while on the phone. I’m ready to settle in, knowing it’ll be a long ride.

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Dear Congress…

Dear Congress,

I have my share of political views, but I do not often share them publicly. However, since what I am about to address isn’t a political matter, I am not breaking my code.

I know you will hear about protests and people demanding change in the coming days. I know students are rallying and hosting walk-outs for gun regulations. I know there are celebrities posting on Facebook and Instagram demanding change. I know people are being encouraged to register to vote to change who is in office this coming year. I stand behind all these people because I am scared.

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The Fear That Follows

Knock, thump.

“What was that?” my mom asks. I stare at her. I don’t know. “Maybe someone’s at the door,” my dad offers. But it’s late. It’s 9:00, too late for anyone to come visit.

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