Gibson Goodrich
Discuss an accomplishment, event, or realization that sparked a period of personal growth and a new understanding of yourself or others.
For most of my childhood, I thought our TV only played Saturday Night Live and Alabama football games, so in 6th grade, when I walked into my living room and saw a presidential debate, I was confused. My parents sat on the couch watching two resoundingly different candidates talk at (and over) one another. I took a seat between them. I didn’t comprehend most of the dialogue, but I was transfixed because I noticed the anxiety on my parents' faces and sensed a peculiar intensity in the moment.
As a 12-year-old, I sought certainty in the world, so I attempted to simplify the debate I had seen. After talking to my parents and reading some headlines, my takeaway was that one side of the country favored higher taxes in return for more government spending, while the other enjoyed lower taxes and had been upset for the last eight years.
Politics isn’t so hard, right?
Things felt more complicated after the election results came in. Consternation, stress, and aggression seemed to be the new norm. It seemed to me that something had failed in the world of adults, so I began to seek explanations. I went down political rabbit holes, reading countless articles and watching every Vox explainer video my middle school self could absorb. I became worried about the state of democracy nationally and internationally with issues such as Brexit, Venezuela, and Russian interference in our elections.
Attempts to discuss this at school were met with strange looks from friends, so I brought my worries to the dinner table with my parents. They were probably more interested in what I had to say about soccer practice. As a result, I became reserved about my interest in current events and government in high school, even as I continued to investigate the volatile world of politics.
When I was given the opportunity to spend the fall semester of my junior year at the School For Ethics and Global Leadership in Washington, DC, I jumped. It was a school like no other. Our classes encouraged thought-provoking debate between me and my classmates, 23 fellow juniors from around the country. For the first time, I had a group of friends who would talk for hours about the world, from topics like race relations in America to China’s belt and road initiative.
In Washington, I realized that my dive into politics over the last five years had been a blessing and a curse. Though I had learned a lot, the political landscape gave me the message that the goal was to demonize other viewpoints. I thought politics was a game in which the two parties fight each other, and the winner gets to make the loser miserable for at least four years. I saw my knowledge as a sword and my ability to devise arguments as a way to wield it.
In my cohort, I saw that our swords were powerful, but fighting only resulted in injury. Approaching politics as a study helped reduce hostility. Perhaps “I don’t know” is not a common phrase in Washington, but hearing it from my classmates and saying it myself allowed me to put down my sword and actively listen to different opinions. I found that listening created a space where ideas could grow and evolve. Instead of constant opposition, I started to see overlap and common ground among our positions.
In college, I want to study public policy and international relations. Instead of being a politician who acts like an intellectual gladiator, I want to be a leader who understands that our most prevalent issues cannot be solved by simplifying matters with slogans and charged rhetoric. I want to promote inquisitiveness, understanding, listening, and humility. Not only do I think this will help our nation's politics, but it will also prevent the next generation of potential leaders from picking up the same sword I once did.