My friend asked me why I didn’t speak up.  I thought about it, and realized it’s because I felt it was useless, as though this person had an unchangeable state of mind. I guess I didn’t think it was worth the effort of a few simple words. “She’s not a whore. You’re wrong.” I’ve always felt that I’ve been a quiet person, prone to avoid tension and conflict. It’s something I’ve been trying to fix. I’m an idealistic person, someone who values the form of government championed by President Obama, or the TV show The West Wing. It’s why I want to pursue a career in government and public service, so that I can make someone else’s life better. But this event has me questioning my ability to do so. How can I fight for the rights of others, facing all manners of opposition, if I can’t even tell one person why they’re wrong for calling someone else a whore? In writing this, I’m not trying to atone for my inaction. I hope it serves as a reminder to myself that I have a voice.  My silence isn’t simply not talking; it could be subjecting others to more disrespect, more intolerance, and more pain. I wonder how many instances of inaction happen everyday, and not just at Latin. Maybe someone tells a joke that you know is hurtful, but you laugh and shrug it off. Maybe a racial slur is said, but you don’t think it’s a big enough deal to say something. Your own judgment will make the decision, but I assure you, silence hurts more.]]>