“The sky is falling, the wind is calling; Stand for something or die in the morning” -Kendrick Lamar

I got a waffle and coffee last weekend with my freshman year roommate. It was nice to catch up with my first friend at Harvard, and after a few awkward small-talk questions, we began to talk with the rhythm and depth that we had when we were still rooming together. The conversation was all over the place; it went from what comes after college to the surprising similarities between Flume and Future.

Eventually, we began to discuss regional differences in America. The dialogue went something like, “The coldness of New England is reflected in the people.” I took this idea and ran with it, saying something ridiculously histrionic (an LA tendency) like, “Yeah, it’s reflected in the eyes of the people.” Saying something like, “The lack of warmth is manifest through the ubiquitous steely-eyed New Englanders.” As I continued to rant, I heard someone snort “steely eyed” under their breath and then burst into laughter. I turned around, ready to challenge whoever was mocking me. We made eye contact, and he said, “Sorry buddy, but I’m a lifelong New Englander.”

For a moment, I contemplated snapping back, “The fact that you’re wearing opaque glasses so I can’t actually see your eyes only reaffirms my point.” But, the rational side of me took over and I realized how childish that’d be. So instead of replying, I swallowed my pride and made some feeble remark about how my mind was wandering. I took the awkwardness in the coffee shop as penance for my callousness and left shortly afterwards.

All in, this pseudo-confrontation was relatively harmless. But in a different mode, it could be incredibly harmful. Imagine if my diatribe had been in the form of an article, with the official seal of The Crimson to validate the ignorance I was spewing. What scares me is the potential for writers, including myself, to influence and guide discussion. This is a big responsibility. In many regards, it can be beneficial when writing serves as a catalyst for discussion and growth. But writing can also promulgate impudent or subversive viewpoints. And the scary reality is that what should be a medium to spur dialogue can be distorted into a practice in promoting hate, ignorance, or bigotry.

It’d be so easy to say this encounter served as a lesson to be calculated while speaking, and even more calculated while writing. To speak of big words like journalistic integrity and extol moralistic truth.

But unfortunately, I don’t think it’s that easy. Calculated speech has never moved men to war, seduced a lover to bed, or brought people to God. No, it is the unabashed emotional truth that inspires, guides, and changes people. If you are always monitoring your speech, you are never truly saying anything.

Kobe Bryant exemplifies this. Tomorrow night, I’ll watch him, my childhood hero, finish his illustrious 20-year career with my hometown team, the Los Angeles Lakers. Kobe is going down in history as an all-time great. He is universally acclaimed for his intensity, his success, and his love for the game. But more than any other trait, Kobe will be remembered for what one person in this video says so eloquently, “Kobe what I love about you is your indifference to how people view you.”

Though my coffee shop experience reminded me how important it is to think before I speak, I don’t want to lose my voice in the process. As important as it is to be thoughtful before voicing our opinions, we can’t be afraid to do so if the message we truly believe happens to be hard for some people to hear. Kobe is loved because he knows this. He knew his potential and what it would take to fulfill his goals. He knew what it took to inspire those around him, and he pursued that ruthlessly. He never worried about rubbing people the wrong way.

It’s true: The pen is mightier than the sword in the hands of any gifted wordsmith. I’m new to writing, I’m definitely not a “wordsmith,” and what I have to say is probably not too virtuous, but I’ll be damned if I don’t speak my mind.

I’m not sure if I’ll continue to ramble on about New England, or other topics that I don’t know well. But when speaking on a topic I know, I’ll never abridge my beliefs for the sake of others.

So to the guy in the coffee shop, thanks for the opportunity to reflect.

And to Kobe Bryant, thank you for being you.

Jamie C. Stewart ’18 is a philosophy concentrator in Dunster House. His column appears on alternate Tuesdays.