Yelp!

(February 9, 2015)
On Friday, February 6, 2015, an assembly met to discuss House Bill 1135 in Colorado. The bill proposed legislation allowing for physician-assisted suicide. My mom and I were present for the assembly, which lasted about 12 hours.

Coming into the new year, I chose a phrase that I wanted to define my 2015. One of my weaknesses is telling others how I feel – most especially when I am frustrated or upset about something. Consequently, my phrase for this year ended up being: “Express Yourself.” (cue music!) After having written a letter to the representatives on the committee for the bill, I was made aware that the assembly was open to the general public, and that people would have the opportunity to speak before the committee. My first response was, “I wrote my letter, that is enough. Plus, I would have to prepare something overnight.” I talked with my mom about it later in the evening, and she said that she felt like she needed to say something. She was scared because she doesn’t feel like she knows very much about politics.

We decided to at least go and sit in to listen. As we found our seats, my mom asked if I had signed us up on the list for people to give a 3-minute testimony. Honestly, I was going to wait to hear what other people had to say before I committed to anything! But, upon her request, I nervously put both of our names down. “I guess now I’ll need to come up with something to say” I thought to myself. We sat and listened to hours of testimony given by doctors, lawyers, members of organizations devoted to care for the disabled and home-bound. Meanwhile, I was writing down my own thoughts. I kept thinking, “All of these people – on both sides of the issue – are giving relatable, intelligent, and very moving testimonies. What difference is my voice going to make?” I jotted down more thoughts on my iPhone.

As I read my testimony over again and again, making edits along the way, my mindset began to shift. Early in the afternoon, after a lunch break, I entered this thought into my notes: “Other people have very strong, intelligent arguments. Mine is not one on legal or medical grounds; however, it is MY OWN and NOBODY else has the testimony that I have. Therefore, I must offer it.” That was an incredibly empowering thought for me. Still, I was nervous. I went back and forth between introducing myself to the committee as a citizen who has never addressed an assembly before. I thought better of it. That would only shake my own confidence and sabotage my own testimony. I would share my thoughts with fervor, speaking with the confidence of a veteran.
The actual testimony did not come out verbatim what I had written, but that played to my advantage because I made strong eye contact with each of the committee members over the course of my speech. Here is what I had written out, that will give you an idea of my testimony:

My testimony is, quite frankly, less about medicine or legislation, and more about the mindset and direction of our culture. What message are we sending to my generation and generations to follow with this bill? I  want to talk about virtue, specifically, the virtue of courage. Now, I’m a runner, so I like to think about life as a marathon. Pretty easy analogy. When I think about this bill, I envision someone running a marathon and getting to the 25th mile. Exhaustion sets in along with muscle failure. This bill calls a cab for that runner to catch a ride to the finish line. Is that courageous? Or would it be more courageous for that same person to keep putting one foot in front of the other, with people on the sidelines cheering them on? That person would do everything in their power to finish the race, even crawl if they had to. I ask you now, [members of the committee], to consider which of these two scenarios displays more courage and more dignity for the human person when you decide whether or not to pass this bill.

With that, I thanked them and awaited their opportunity to ask questions. Thankfully, there were none! I walked back to my seat standing a little taller. I had spoken my piece. We still awaited the outcome, but I knew in my heart that I had fulfilled my role to the best of my ability. I was proud, the good kind of proud.

Later that evening, we watched the local news. The bill was defeated! I was elated! I was on the winning team! Did my efforts alone sway the vote? Probably not. But my voice was heard, and I know that it made a difference. I felt like Dr. Seuss’s Who, whose one small, “Yelp!” combined with the voices of the other Whos, saved their small speck of dust from destruction.

So many times in my life, I have allowed fear to keep me from speaking my point of view. I don’t expect to always have things go my way in the end – though I will not hide how excited I am that they did this time! – but this experience taught me a very important lesson. I hope those who read this will also be instilled with the confidence of knowing that NOBODY else has YOUR voice. Your perspective is valuable because it is yours. Whether or not people agree with you or not is not for you to worry about. I encourage you to speak – respectfully – into issues that matter; whether it is in your personal relationships, or in the public sphere. Your voice matters. Take courage! Stand up! Be heard!