I
sometimes find it ironic that I want to become a Journalist, yet I hate public
speaking. It’s not the speaking that I dislike, but the unwavering attention of
an audience that makes me freeze up. I hate walking into class late. I hate
having to perform onstage. I hate any activity in which I worry that I am being
judged. The only thing I hate more than
public speaking, however, is being afraid of something. Refusing to allow my
apprehension to get the best of me, I joined my high school’s competitive Slam
Poetry Team last year.
As
I mentioned before, I don’t mind the speaking aspect of public speaking. As
long as I can remember I’ve loved words. I’m known for being very talkative,
knowing plenty of big words and being able to memorize countless song lyrics.
Most importantly, though, I’m known for my skill and love for writing. I’ve
been writing poetry since fifth grade and it has always been a creative outlet
for me. In middle school, my teachers always praised my creative writing skill
and friends would ask me to write poems for any and every occasion. I loved
letting others read my work, but I could never muster up the courage to perform
it.
During my senior year of high school, my best
friend created the Competitive Slam Poetry team and urged me to join. The team
would work all year, writing and critiquing one another’s poetry leading up to
the competition: Louder Than A Bomb in May. During the competition, schools
would send their best writers to perform their poetry onstage and be ranked by
judges and an audience of several hundred people. I hesitantly joined the club
and began the long process of overcoming my fear. Countless times, I stood in front of my
classmates and read to them, but the result was always the same: my hands
shook, my voice wavered, I talked too quickly and I couldn’t look my audience
in the eye. I began to get discouraged, thinking I would never be comfortable
sharing my feelings in front of a crowd.
A
few weeks before the competition, I suddenly had a revelation and wrote the
best poem I had ever written. Instead of focusing on my own feelings or
emotions, I wrote a heavy piece about gun violence in Prince George’s County. I
had never been so deeply saddened or impassioned until I heard the stories of
the six children who had been murdered in my home county. Through my anger and
frustration I wrote my poem titled “The Devil’s Favorite Number”, questioning
the senselessness of killing and called for people to stand against gun
violence. For the first time, I believed my words could make a difference in
the world. When I performed the Devil’s Favorite Number I wasn’t anxious, I
wasn’t worried about whether people would judge my voice or my writing. My only
concern was making known the stories of the children who had died.
I
performed The Devil’s Favorite number to an audience of around 200 people on
Sunday, May 4, 2013. I learned that day
that by focusing on issues that truly mattered to me, I could control my
nervousness. I realized that the words I spoke were not about me, but were for
the benefit of my community. I couldn’t be nervous because I had a job to do;
there were people who needed their stories told and it was my job to tell them.
I know now that I can be a great journalist if I remove myself from the
equation and dedicate my time and talent to educating the world and speaking
for people who do not have a voice. My poem received 10s from numerous judges
and a standing ovation from the audience. Most importantly though, my poem
taught me to be selfless in my writing and let the words speak for themselves.
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