Thank You, The Spectator, Stuy, and Joan Didion!

On my first day of junior year, my English teacher shared the following quote by Joan Didion with our class: “I write entirely to find out what I’m thinking, what I’m looking at, what I see and what it means. What I want and what I fear.”

Essentially, Didion writes to process; she writes for herself. When I read that quote, I had just finished writing an article for Issue 1 of The Spectator, and I had spent a lot of time imagining (and fearing) what readers’ reactions would be. Didion’s words made me wonder: am I writing for myself? And if not, is my writing still valuable? 

I worried that my article, which urged Americans to maintain their pride in their American identity, even if they disagree with the actions of the American government, would bring me criticism. If you’re wondering why I feared I would be outcast over an article about American patriotism, I agree that in hindsight it was unnecessary fear, but I have never seen anyone stand for the Pledge of Allegiance during the morning announcements; I have only heard people scoff at it. 

The Spectator is read by our entire school community. It is also indelible: this writing will be printed on 300 physical newspapers, put on the internet, and archived. So while The Spectator may not feel like a big deal if you’re reading a copy on the escalator, it feels like a big deal to the writers. This is, by and large, a good thing. It keeps us accountable. When writing, I edit relentlessly. I remind myself, on repeat: make sure you write what you mean; be specific; do not leave the potentially controversial ambiguous. Share your opinion with tact. Reread and revise until you are certain that each word is defensible.

But if I worry more about what people will say than about what I want to convey, have my precision and caution become self-censorship? If my goal is to share my opinion and promote free speech, what good can I do by writing something that doesn’t fully express my ideas? My editors routinely suggest that I spend less time on my counterargument because I am too caught up in pacifying potential critics to make my point. While I have always technically written for an audience, my goal hasn’t always been to please them. We can handle not being pleased, and those kinds of conversations are far more interesting when handled with maturity.

What I would have said before I became a writer for The Spectator was: if my writing sparks controversy, so be it. Controversy is productive and need not result in permanent conflict. Still, that is easier said than done; in reality, writing is nerve-wracking. 

A day after I read Didion’s words, Issue 1 was released. As much as I had hoped that my writing would resonate with people, I don’t think I really believed it would. But to my surprise, my peers came up to me in the halls, not to tell me my article was a bunch of garbage, but to tell me that they enjoyed it. I did not, in the days that followed, get cancelled.

With my work published and my fear allayed, I was able to see my own process with a clearer mind. I do, like Didion, write to find out what I am thinking. Realizing how happy it makes me when my writing resonates with someone taught me that what I want is to share my opinions in a space where speech is valued. It isn’t praise that brings me fulfillment so much as the feeling of being involved in a discourse where what I have to say is taken seriously.

I can also now clearly see what I fear: that people won’t accept my beliefs, and that that might keep me from writing. I wrote “Don’t Give Up on America” not only to share my opinion, but to prove to myself that I wasn’t too afraid to do it. It feels silly and melodramatic, but when I sat down to write this, I told myself I would be honest, and so I am admitting that writing for my high school newspaper scares me. Yet I am still here because I love doing this. I write for myself.

Thank you for not only reading The Spectator, but for also reaching out to the writers and editors who put effort into it. What readers of my article did for me was small: all that really happened was that a few of you told me you liked it. But in doing so you reminded me that we strive for a community where speech is free. What more could I ask for?

In my initial article, I highlighted the benefits that patriotism, and living by American principles, have to offer our society. I stressed the importance of the First Amendment and encouraged you to share your own opinions (even the radical ones) in the name of building the America we want to believe in. I urged you not to give up on America and your American identity, because it is worth fighting for, even when doing so is hard. But sometimes, it is hard for me to identify what, exactly, in my life, is a direct product of my “American identity.” What, on the day-to-day, am I fighting for when I call myself an American? I could stream Taylor Swift songs from Britain; I could make Texas barbecue in Taiwan.

The most American thing in my life is, in fact, this. We are so lucky to have The Spectator, a truly free outlet for student journalism in this American school. I had to live and write about it to realize that for me, writing and my American identity are inseparable. Again, retrospectively, I can say that I can’t believe I didn’t understand this about myself before. What Didion wrote about herself is true for me, too: those discoveries are the power of writing. Life is full of surprises, and writing helps me find them.