this is incredibly rough i’m sorry. i’m probably going to use a different topic

In 1973, the Supreme Court ruled in its famous case, Roe v. Wade, in favor of protecting the right to access abortion. The ruling generally decriminalized abortion across all 50 states, allowing women to terminate a pregnancy until the fetus was viable. This typically meant that abortion was legal until at least the twenty-fourth week of pregnancy. However, this case remained controversial until it was overturned in 2022, meaning that abortion was no longer protected at a federal level. States now have the power to regulate abortion as they see fit, leading to large discrepancies between states.

Since Roe v. Wade was overturned, states such as Texas and Alabama have created laws so restrictive that they have led to the deaths of women who were not able to get abortions even in life-threatening circumstances. If left to their own devices, state governments will continue to limit abortion access and threaten the well-being of their residents.

Personal is Political: People have pointed out to me and my roommate how often we do this thing where we cite something we read in high school in reference to a real life situation. It’s hard for me to explain, but basically I’m considering telling stories in my life and then tying them to a poem or some kind of literature that discusses a greater issue. I think it’ll make more sense when I actually write it.

Civic Issue: I’m still planning on discussing the abortion debate and highlighting the different arguments on both sides that make me believe that choice should come first.

NOTE: i know its rough i dont wanna talk about it <3

I was in preschool the first time it happened. I remember trying to find the words through tears to explain to my mom why the kids at school had been so cruel to me that day. When I finally found the explanation – it’s because I’m Indian – all I got in response was denial. But I remember knowing even then that I was right.

I wasn’t being shoved into lockers or called degrading nicknames. The bullying I knew was far more discreet, implicit, and effective. In elementary school, it came in the form of “missed” invitations to birthday parties and stolen toys on the playground. It got louder as I got older, and the culprits got cleverer. By middle school at the same district, it was applause meant to humiliate me and my Brown friends as we entered the cafeteria. Explicit songs centered around my ethnicity and screams of my name down hallways, just because my name amused them. By the time we got to high school, the blatant racism had subsided. Everyone knew who their friends were and who to avoid, so actual conflict was rare enough that I didn’t even think about the fact that I was Indian everyday.

The heart of the story takes place on the dance floor of senior homecoming. I remember feeling anticipation rise again between songs as everyone waited to hear what (typically hit-or-miss) song the DJ would choose next. I remember looking around the decorated gymnasium in confusion, trying to place the melody that started playing. I remember recognizing it and thinking I was going insane. The DJ was playing the song “Chammak Challo,” a popular Bollywood classic and a staple in every Indian household. Never in my life had I imagined that a song that I usually heard in my living room would ever play at a school dance, and what I saw next bewildered me even more. I watched as everyone resumed their mosh pit dancing, with a few modifications to replicate the steps that the Indian students in the middle of the floor were using. No mockery, no prejudice, no malintentions. And as I watched these peers of mine, who I had known since preschool, singing and dancing and appreciating my culture, it occurred to me that I didn’t actually know the words to the song. I knew the melody, I knew the chorus, but I didn’t understand the words because I didn’t speak the language. So as I joined my Brown friends in the middle of the dance floor, a new feeling replaced that confusion and fear that I originally experienced when I heard “Chammak Challo” playing: shame.

Since then, that same shame has hit me in waves every time I had to confront the reality of the situation. Every time someone asked me if I could speak my mother tongue and the answer was no. Every time my friends discussed a Bollywood actress’s marriage, and I didn’t know who they were talking about. Most recently, when I visited India, none of my family members could understand my heavy American accent.

Prejudice is embedded into my earliest memories. I’ve always known this, but only as I was standing on that packed homecoming dance floor did I realize that it was my own hatred that lingered there. The other kids at school were mean, but their cruelty was temporary. Any long-term damage was caused by my own internalized racism. I stunted my own growth by subscribing to the short-sighted belief system of a couple bullies that rendered me inferior to them. By refusing to speak Marathi until I didn’t know how anymore and mocking my parent’s Indian accents when we were in public, I thought I could distance myself from my Indian-ness. Little did I realize that one day it could be seen as an asset instead of an imperfection.

Luckily for me, I had this epiphany at 18 and not 80. I’ve been working towards celebrating my culture more and more everyday, from proudly wearing henna and posting pictures in Indian clothing on my Instagram to working with my dad to pick up some of the language I lost. While I once believed that the only way I could ever be “normal” was by denying my identity, I’ve since learned otherwise. I believe that only you can decide who you are and that embracing the unique parts of one’s identity can enhance their life.

This I Believe:

1. One of my ideas is to talk about respect and how American attitudes toward the concept are shifting. The importance of respect was always stressed heavily in my house when I was growing up, and I think it’s a wide topic that I can narrow down on later.
2. I’m also considering highlighting all the ways that I notice waste in my life at Penn State, the consequences of it, and how we can improve our choices to limit waste.

Personal is Political:

I’m still not completely sold on a topic for this, but I’m considering tying several stories to the theme of echo chambers, and how they can be dangerous. I think that specifically with the internet, it’s becoming easier and easier to be “radicalized” to a degree in any belief. This could relate to political indoctrination or just the perils of the TikTok algorithm.

Civic Issue:

1. I feel very passionately about reproductive freedom and protecting the right to choose. I’ve done a lot of research on the debate about abortion, and I think I can uncover interesting arguments on both sides.
2. Education, specifically at the elementary age, is so important, even outside of the debates about progressive vs. traditional curriculum. I think that how we teach students of that age can heavily impact the trajectory of their future academic experiences and their lives in general. I think that learning psychology is so interesting, and I’d like to learn more about it.