I remember very well the day in which I dared walk into parliament in worn Chuck Taylors. It was the summer of 2009, and I was one of the participants of the national youth parliament.  At the time I didn't recognise the irony nor the symbol of my worn sneakers strolling in between the two sides of parliament. My Chuck Taylors, patterned with a hundred tiny skulls, represented youth in a place where it is rarely present.  My group, made up of 17-18 year olds,  was to discuss the right to life, a subject that is still quite sensitive among the population. It still has to be discussed in parliament even now, in the year 2010.

Sitting in that chair, in the place of someone else, I felt I had a voice for the first time. It was like my lungs opened properly, like my voice became amplified to twice its size. I felt like I could talk about everything under the sun. My group presented a resolution that was deemed to be bold even then. There were talks of abortion, the morning after pill, and the question of paternity amongst other things. I was thrilled to finally open discussion about subjects that had been taboo until then, subjects that our representatives are afraid to open even in these modern times for fear of public back lash. I was relieved that I had assisted in opening up talks, though I was aware that by pulling up the carpet I was exposing dirt that people were not really ready to talk about.

What I did not expect was the huge back lash that my group received on the morrow. We were talked about in news rooms, made the subject of speculation on variety programs and thoroughly whipped and generally criticized. In the comments section of a prominent online newspaper we were even called 'murderers', that we talked of things in which we had no experience. We were councelled to repent our sins, or else run the risk of burning in hell for all of eternity. I was stunned at the people's reaction, for in my estimation I had done nothing wrong. Was discussing something unpleasant considered to be criminal? It appeared that so was the case. I was a teenager, and such I could not talk about what I wanted. I could not express my opinion, because doing so would result in the majority of the population turning against me. In my life I was only expected to do two things: attend university on week days and get drunk at parties on week ends.

Such is the reaction of people when youths deign to get interested in things around them. They get labelled as being ignorant, as having no experience and thus as having no right to a voice. In a society where even unborn children have rights, it is almost funny how people are so censored. Youths in particular are censored even more than their elders. They are not expected to talk, to criticize a society in which they are half sitting on the outskirts. Even in this modern age of 2010, a youth is currently in court and runs the risk of going to prison for a published article that was considered obscene. And then they wonder why we are afraid to speak!

Apathy, the cancer of our society, was not born alone. It was planted in ourselves after we saw that it was better to remain silent. It is far better to police our speech and our writings, for even these can be dug up and used to our detriment in the future. When we are passionate about something, we are labelled as extremists, when we sit mute and still we are labelled as indifferent. All the while we wonder what we should do to better the image of youths, but then we are beat back by the reactions of the public. In this climate, I ask myself: Is it worth it to speak?