Acorn

Issue date: 2/29/08 Section: Opinion

Media Credit: Kelsi Bitgood

There's a girl on campus whom I care very deeply about. No, I'm not talking about romance here-rest assured that any current lady folk pulling at my heartstrings are all off-campus-I mean someone I care about as a passionate individual who always stands up for what she feels is right, even when others tell her that it's wrong. Someone who I continuously seek out advice from because I always know that she'll tell me what's on her mind rather than what she thinks I might want to hear. She is someone who stands behind her convictions. Actually, come to think about it, she's someone who has many of the same ideals that I hold very close to my own heart.

This girl is a little bit different than me, though. She's brunette while I'm blonde-well okay, fake blonde. She's reserved while I'm a burst of uncontrollable energy. She's subtle with her passions, while I'm flashy and showy with them. And then perhaps the most cited difference between the two of us around the student body: She's a devout, conservative Roman Catholic and I'm a queer activist.

I've often heard from students that they feel like she and I are without a doubt the two most intense students on Drew University's campus. Personally, I feel like my reputation was well-earned through years upon years of self-righteous moments in campus activist history that could only possibly be summed up by the melodramatic tune of "Eye of the Tiger"-sorry, class of 2011, I feel as though in my old age I've toned down to the verge of becoming boring. Her reputation, on the other hand, was earned by simply being passionate about her own faith.

We as a society are drawn to passion. Whether or not we choose to embrace them, ridicule them or despise them, we are continuously drawn to the ones who make intensity look natural and effortless.

After all, the passionate are the ones who make things happen the way that they do. These individuals are the movers and shakers. Everyone else is simply standing by and watching it happen.

In this sense, however, the leader can also fall far too easily into the role of entertainer. As a society, we have a tendency to romanticize activism to be something more than it truly is. We also have a tendency to create our leaders out to be the people we want them to be, rather than the people who they truly are.

When I stop to say, "hello" to the girl described in this article, looks of shock and disbelief cross the faces of those passing by. Followed by such looks are often expressions of disappointment.

The token queer and the token Catholic actually get along and even respect each other. No campus showdown will ever come of it.

This story may seem incredibly boring to you, for as much as we are drawn to passion, we are also drawn to conflict and drama. Things that revolve around love and acceptance seem rather boring in comparison-don't they?

Isn't this at the heart of activism? To learn to love and respect one another despite our differences? To strive for acceptance and diversity of opinion? To care about the individual above all else?

I don't believe that it's much of a shock that I respect this student as much as I do. The role of the activist is to be both teacher and student at the same time.

We have all been given a piece of information to pass along to others. At the same time, we must continuously be open the information that is being passed on to us.

Only when we come together can we all begin to make sense of it all.

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