The girl sits down after her speech is over.
The podium is empty.
I look over in the team of three – it doesn't take much to notice them. Their pigment stands out from the rest of the room.
I see them searching through their books. I see them whispering ideas. I see them carefully eyeing the podium, imagining their future fate to arrive in the next few minutes.
Every college debater is full of angst. Every college debater is competitive.
But I see something more in them.
This wasn't just a trip. This wasn't just a competition. In fact, debate is not just a sport – it is a ground, an opportunity, a chance for a voice.
As they grapple with the pages of the book they pour their souls into each word. It's an opportunity. It's a chance. A chance not to be silent.
Everyone else – leisurely sitting around their room, Ivy league pride on their chest, their seasoned repertoire on the other – is too proficient. There's nothing fresh. No purpose. It's routine.
But their team – they stand out. Not just for the color of their skin, but for the sparkle between their eyes. Like a bird who hasn't yet taken flight. They make me curious. They make me question.
Their final speaker walks up to the podium. He looks around the room that responds with a cold silence.
And he speaks. He speaks for his team. He speaks for his school. He speaks for his town.
And for the first time, we are all here to listen.
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