You May Not Like My Impact, and That’s Okay
A teen’s struggle to define impact amidst our crazy world
Preface
Impact.
I’ve spent the majority of my summer pondering what that word means to me.
As cliché as it sounds, I’ve always dreamed big; as a young girl reading Sonia Sotomayor’s autobiography and envisioning her rise from the Bronx to the nation’s largest court to watching AOC’s moving speeches rallying her district and nation, I’ve looked up to change-makers who have broken barriers to make the world a better place than the one they were born into.
As much as I pretend to be stoic and unfeeling, I’ve always been deeply touched by the plight of others. From a young age, I remember crying during Heidi when she’s ripped away from her grandfather, sobbing when I read about toddlers being ripped apart from their parents on CNN, and weeping when I’d been told a relative I’d never even met had died. As I’ve aged, that emotion within me, coupled with disgust over the current state of affairs, have sparked a desire to act upon these issues.
The spark
Post George Floyd’s tragic death when Black Lives Matter protests started to erupt around the nation, I began to see friends posting about BLM, mass incarceration, and politics on their Instagram stories more regularly. At first, the posts were extremely meaningful and I would swipe through the individual slides to educate myself about the problems they were addressing, but eventually, I felt like the true desire for change was being lost amidst the flurry. As our Instagram feeds returned to normal — kids posing with their friends at the beach — people often posted about “advocacy” in between the standard “like my new post” stories. Although I’m sure many of their intentions were pure, I felt as though a lot of the posts were being obscured by guilt — slacktivism. As inconsequential as it sounds, I began debating whether I should post something; would I be complicit and part of the overarching problem if I didn’t, or would my post come off as another teen trying to seem “woke?” And thus began my journey to define what change means to me.
Questioning
It just so happens that around that time, I had started exploring Criminal Justice Reform books for debate. Through those resources, I discovered concepts that intrigued me, from carceral capitalism to the transition between slavery to Jim Crow to mass incarceration. This summer, I attended a debate camp, where we read critical, ‘radical’ texts about the underlying problems of the prison system, from anti-blackness to black sites and colonialism. From there, I started to view the world in a different way, recognizing the deeply rooted systems that perpetuate inequality. This exploration fundamentally shifted my view and philosophy of the world, as I began to feel conflicted and question things I thought I knew about myself; I’ve always maintained a desire to be a prosecutor and then a judge (not a coincidence that this was Sotomayor’s path, as I idolized her since I was a child), but here, I was surrounded by people who dismissed the idea of a “progressive prosecutor” and frowned upon the idea of reform at all, since much of the violence against marginalized people of color had been state-sanctioned. After all, they argued that pandering to politics in any way would forgo and corrupt revolutionary change (and subsequently, compromise important ideals), and I saw some truth in those arguments.
Too
On the other hand, I had been phone banking for the majority of the summer, calling potential voters in Virginia and urging them to vote for certain candidates I believe would, at the very least, steer the country in a better direction than their opponents. On my first day of phone banking, I felt a little anxious, stumbling over the script, and squeaking “Hi, I’m Michelle…,” hoping they wouldn’t hang up immediately. Throughout the experience, I only managed to talk to 20% of the voters I called — and many of the conversations were short and abrupt — a quick “thanks!” before a hangup. Eventually, as I hit my 1000th call, phone banking almost became a chore; I knew I was making an impact of sorts, but it did not feel meaningful.
What really intrigued me were the few voters who fundamentally disagreed with my views. I felt like I saw a new side of the political spectrum I hadn’t interacted with before, as how I live is relatively sheltered and homogeneous in terms of political affiliation. And with that, I came to realize how deeply divided the nation truly is. There was no realistic way to enact the change I wanted to see without incremental change (which, yes, included my phone banking). On a more personal level, fresh out of debate camp, I decided to test the waters and have conversations with my family about these topics — immediately, they dismissed me as being “too naive” and “too idealist,” and my sister even joked that I’d be poor in the future because I’d just do public work and not make any money. As a child, I’d been pretty neutral on most matters as I constantly strived to be the peacemaker, always wanting to please everyone, but I eventually came to the conclusion that pleasing everyone is a vicious cycle, always draining and never producing. Feeling quite unsettled at that point, I realized this journey of self-discovery was much more convoluted than I had originally imagined: I’d been considered “too much of a realist” by some and now was dismissed as “too idealist.”
Impact
And that brings me back to impact.
As I explored these topics, I was conflicted. Sure, I believed in many of the concepts, but what could I, a sixteen-year-old, do? And even if I was an adult, what could I actually do? As I explored more nuanced topics, I began having discussions with others who believed in the same concepts as me who also emphasized the idea of pragmatic change. They argued, “sure, things are messed up, but while others are busy theorizing, people out there are suffering and dying from material violence — violence that can be fixed.” And I took this argument to heart. This epiphany triggered a chain reaction of throwing myself into researching the news, reading all types of articles and books, and participating in campaigns whose platforms I believed in.
I truly do believe that anyone and everyone can enact change in the world; from a micro-level to an international level. I’ll always be regarded as “too” this and “too” that, so the only thing I can be is unapologetically myself.
You may not like my impact and that’s okay.
Maybe my views are still “too neutral” or “too extreme,” but to me, they’re an imperfect, messy blend of my values with a touch of “how can I help make them a reality?”
As I emerge from summer 2020, I understand the importance of formulating my own opinions and my own views. I take all the contrasting ideas and stir up my own beautiful concoction of thoughts, opinions, and ideals; it will always be changing and adjusting, but what will always remain constant is the fact that it is purely mine. And I will always fight for what I believe is right, even as my definition of “right” constantly reworks itself.
I still don’t understand the true nature of impact and how I fit into its complex dynamics, but what I do know is that this will be an invigorating, lifelong journey of discovery.
