By Laney Konz, Staff Writer
In any other circumstance, I might be enthusiastic about writing this opinion piece.
I am a senior, graduating a semester early and embarking on a new chapter in my life. As the Newswire seniors do each year, I am writing my final goodbye. And yet, I am sitting here, staring at a blinking cursor, overwhelmed by the uncertainty of my future — the future I have long been fantasizing over and making plans for — a future that is now plagued with sorrow and pessimism.
We are living through the inevitable and ever-growing climate crisis. Our leaders stand idly by while funding the genocide of the Palestinian people. Women’s access to reproductive care and their right to bodily autonomy are threatened.
Laney Konz walks out of Xavier’s labyrinth and into a new chapter of her life post-undergrad.
Our president-elect is a convicted felon, an extremist, was found liable by a jury for battery pertaining to sexual abuse, has faced numerous sexual assault allegations, is a climate change denier and has no regard for the truth if it threatens his image. His weaponization of the ignorance of Americans has built him the platform he has now. He profits off of the backs of working Americans — meanwhile, he promises tax cuts to the wealthy.
This doesn’t even graze the surface of the issues we are currently facing and will eventually face. Somehow, amidst all this, I am supposed to preach about my gratitude for my time in Newswire and my excitement for what lies ahead of me. To say that I am optimistic would be a lie. But I am not without hope.
In an opinion piece I wrote last year about leaf burning on campus, I explained how I have come to understand hope. I spent a semester in a class taught by Dr. Van Horn, wading through daunting issues like climate change, police brutality, fast fashion and how our attention is declining due to the demands of capitalism and limitless connectivity.
Laney Konz celebrates the start of her freshman year with a commemorative Buenger Hall picture.
Despite feeling frustrated by all these issues, I still left the class with hope — not possessing it, like it is an object or feat to be attained. Rather, I left the class with an embodied sense of hope. I was making hope through my actions — investing in my future by acting in a way that directly benefited myself and those around me, including the land beneath my feet and our non-human kin.
I said in this opinion that “to bear witness to the damage done and to continue on despite the overwhelming disconcerting future of our planet is a form of hope.” To slow down, to bear witness, to encounter one another – that is a hopeful form of resistance against the foreboding future that lies ahead.
And that is where I am now — sad, scared, overwhelmed, frustrated, but also committed to finding hope.
So, although this is a darker goodbye than I would have liked to make, it is my hope that you feel empowered to make hope in your own right and that your pain and grief for your future urges you to act. It is imperative that you do not allow the pessimism to become avolition or apathy.
Most important of all, we must meet each other halfway, stepping out of our echo chambers of belief, and stand face-to-face with the other that we have been told to fear. I can’t help but wonder how different our world would be if we simply lifted our heads from our screens and witnessed the people around us.
When you stand face-to-face with someone, you see the human in front of you. The invocation of fear from our leaders has been their weapon — and they’ve been successful. But I have good news: the other you have been told is your enemy is, in fact, your neighbor.
Encounter is our power, our shield, our weapon of love.
So yes, our future is uncertain. I am scared. But through it all, I am committed to resisting the urge to give up by tending to the present turmoil and reaching out to those around me.
My friend, my neighbor, will you join me in my commitment?