Dear 2017,
Dear 2017,
Truth be told, I was dreading you. I felt like if I could hold on to 2016, the world I knew would be ok. I did not want your fear, your intolerance, your feeling of hopelessness, or your lack of compassion. You came anyway, but I did not expect all that you’d bring.
I found out that good times don’t strengthen us. Good times don’t test us and what we believe in or stand for because we aren’t necessarily called to courage. Good times may give us more love and happiness, but it doesn’t always ask us to truly reveal who we are; however, 2017, your fear, your intolerance, your hopelessness, and your lack of compassion awakened a part of me that was waiting to show.
That part of me found herself on a bus headed straight to Washington D.C. on January 21st. I was in a sea of over a million people marching, chanting, praying, loving, and desperately hoping that the world would hear us and our unwillingness to bend in our fight for humanity and social justice. You see, 2017, I was scared before. I was scared of using my voice because, to be honest, the world is mostly set up for people who look, love, and worship like me. There was a sense of anger from some around me for even wanting to speak up and step out. There was no way for me to stay quiet though when I look out over my classroom and see every type of human sitting in those seats with hearts just as beautiful as the next. There was no way for me to stay quiet when I was hearing so many of them being degraded and undervalued. I knew your voice could not be louder than mine, so I stood up and shouted above the hate that love is louder.
2017, you strengthened my resolve to be a strong female role model, not just a sweet and smiling face. I vowed when I left D.C. that I would never be relegated to the sidelines or overlooked because of my gender. I don’t want anything taken from men. I am not interested in guy-bashing, but I am fiercely determined in making sure that women and girls get a chance to be at the table and use their voices. That starts with me. 2017, I found my voice this year, and while it may waver at times, it’s passionate, resolute, and no longer satisfied with being quiet until called on. It’s not blustering. It’s thoughtful, knowledgeable, and ready, and in a year like this one, it’s needed. You’ve given voice to a heart and mind that needs to be heard, and with instances like Charlottesville, Puerto Rico, and #MeToo, you better believe this voice will ring loudly.
In all of this, you somehow pushed me closer to the people who feel like light. In fighting for what’s right and what’s in my heart, you’ve led me to people who do the same. For those who were already in my life, the bonds have become stronger. Some started the year as new friends and became family. They are ones who serve as constant reminders of who I want to be. They are ones who do not let me waver from the path I want to be on. They are the spark that keeps me going, and because of you, 2017, I have grown to appreciate them as much as they deserve. They are everything you weren’t.
So, 2017, while I may happy to see you go, I must thank you for showing me who I really am. I will be light when it’s dark. I will be the voice for the voiceless. I will confidently take a seat at a table and ask others not represented to join. I will be love during hate. I will choose connectedness over privileged. I will leave the echo chambers of politics and look for ways to be a part of humanity.
Sincerely,
ep
Truth be told, I was dreading you. I felt like if I could hold on to 2016, the world I knew would be ok. I did not want your fear, your intolerance, your feeling of hopelessness, or your lack of compassion. You came anyway, but I did not expect all that you’d bring.
I found out that good times don’t strengthen us. Good times don’t test us and what we believe in or stand for because we aren’t necessarily called to courage. Good times may give us more love and happiness, but it doesn’t always ask us to truly reveal who we are; however, 2017, your fear, your intolerance, your hopelessness, and your lack of compassion awakened a part of me that was waiting to show.
That part of me found herself on a bus headed straight to Washington D.C. on January 21st. I was in a sea of over a million people marching, chanting, praying, loving, and desperately hoping that the world would hear us and our unwillingness to bend in our fight for humanity and social justice. You see, 2017, I was scared before. I was scared of using my voice because, to be honest, the world is mostly set up for people who look, love, and worship like me. There was a sense of anger from some around me for even wanting to speak up and step out. There was no way for me to stay quiet though when I look out over my classroom and see every type of human sitting in those seats with hearts just as beautiful as the next. There was no way for me to stay quiet when I was hearing so many of them being degraded and undervalued. I knew your voice could not be louder than mine, so I stood up and shouted above the hate that love is louder.
2017, you strengthened my resolve to be a strong female role model, not just a sweet and smiling face. I vowed when I left D.C. that I would never be relegated to the sidelines or overlooked because of my gender. I don’t want anything taken from men. I am not interested in guy-bashing, but I am fiercely determined in making sure that women and girls get a chance to be at the table and use their voices. That starts with me. 2017, I found my voice this year, and while it may waver at times, it’s passionate, resolute, and no longer satisfied with being quiet until called on. It’s not blustering. It’s thoughtful, knowledgeable, and ready, and in a year like this one, it’s needed. You’ve given voice to a heart and mind that needs to be heard, and with instances like Charlottesville, Puerto Rico, and #MeToo, you better believe this voice will ring loudly.
In all of this, you somehow pushed me closer to the people who feel like light. In fighting for what’s right and what’s in my heart, you’ve led me to people who do the same. For those who were already in my life, the bonds have become stronger. Some started the year as new friends and became family. They are ones who serve as constant reminders of who I want to be. They are ones who do not let me waver from the path I want to be on. They are the spark that keeps me going, and because of you, 2017, I have grown to appreciate them as much as they deserve. They are everything you weren’t.
So, 2017, while I may happy to see you go, I must thank you for showing me who I really am. I will be light when it’s dark. I will be the voice for the voiceless. I will confidently take a seat at a table and ask others not represented to join. I will be love during hate. I will choose connectedness over privileged. I will leave the echo chambers of politics and look for ways to be a part of humanity.
Sincerely,
ep
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