I have a few confessions: I am a feminist, I believe that race issues are still very prevalent in our nation, and I tend to lean more towards the left side of politics (and, in some conservative Christian circles, I might be considered liberal).

But you wouldn’t know that about me.

I am the girl who sits in the back of her Theology of Gender class, quietly fuming while the rest of the class talks about dressing modestly and gender roles. When I’m on Facebook I wince at the articles that talk about #AllLivesMatter and how feminism is ruining Christianity instead of commenting on the status or messaging the person who shared it. I stare in horror as more and more people from back home start to show support for Donald Trump and the wall he plans to build around the border.

I am not helping anyone by ranting to my roommate at the end of the day who shares the same views that I do. I only get more and more frustrated by the change that I do not see happening in the community, or even in our conversations.

And for that, I am sorry.

I am sorry that I am hiding in fear of conversations that are going to be tough. Biola wants us to have the courage to have convictions, and although these convictions might not be the exact same as Biola has, I am still called to courageously have conversations about my convictions with people who are not in agreement so that we can learn from each other.

I am sorry for letting the fear of stepping on someone’s toes stop me from talking about injustice. I have allowed nonverbal communication act as my only way of addressing issues. I cannot hide behind a keyboard or pen for most of these conversations. Change happens in the everyday conversations with people who are in your circles.

Silence can cultivate bitterness, and bitterness will accomplish nothing but more strife and take us further from a solution.

I read a quote from Patrick Henry the other day, “Should I keep back my opinions at such a time, through fear of giving offense, I should consider myself as guilty of treason toward my country, and of an act of disloyalty toward the Majesty of Heaven, which I revere above all earthly kings.”

If I am silent, I cannot be angry when the world around me shows no signs of change. I cannot depend on the people who share my convictions and are more “outgoing” than I am. I have to be a part of the conversation, because even if we share the same views, we are going to come to our mutual conclusion from different angles.

I am sorry for my silence, and this article is the first step towards breaking it.