WE WILL WRITE THROUGH THIS

A YEAR OF YOUNG VOICES

2020 - 2021

There comes a time in everyone's life when they awaken—becoming aware of the world for the very first time. There is a moment when the mind perceives what their eyes could only see. The moment that we begin to understand. In the year 2020, children awoke to a worldwide pandemic, understood mass protests to racial injustice, and perceived political divisions that threatened the very fibers of our democracy.

In that moment of great historical importance— we might wonder how children processed and understood such turbulent times. "We Will Write Through This," shows how children responded to some of the most significant challenges to humanity. Through their poetry, personal essays, and historical analysis we are moved and empowered. Their writings are questioning. Thoughtful. Painful. Hopeful. These are stories that need to be told, now more than ever before. We can learn profound lessons from their experiences.

So then, in a world where a child's perspective so often goes unacknowledged, let their brave voices no longer go unheard.

— Jermaine Fowler

FOR LOUISVILLE

By Sloane Reinke, Age 13

After “There Are Birds Here”
by Jamaal May

There are people here,

people who love, see, think.

People with opinions and ideas, and have the right to share them.

I don’t mean people who strive for violence.

I don’t mean people who seem like they don’t have souls, have hearts.

I said people.

I mean the people who take peaceful action to see the change they want,

who will stop the violence because they care about their city.

I am trying to say that these people are good people, and even though there is corruption

here,

even though some people go around disrespecting people here,

there are still good people that care about the city they call home.

The people I mean are determined to see a change.

The people I mean don’t listen to those trying to tear them down.

The people I mean want justice for wrong doings,

justice for hate.

The people I mean don’t read from the book of violence,

they read from the book of peace, and love, and all things good in this world.

There are people here,

people who love, see, think.

There are people here.

Do you see them?

IF I WERE PRESIDENT

Victoria Roberson, Age 13

If I were president, I would make it a safer place for people of color, like me.

I would make all feminine hygiene products free.

If I were president, I would also ban racism and police brutality.

I would also ban schools from making students wear uniforms.

I would expand the variety of plant-based and vegan foods, and make them taste better.

I would help invest in small businesses.

I would allow teens to vote; they’re a part of this country too, right?

Healthcare would be available to everyone,

and basic needs would be available to everyone.

I would also ban homework because students are stressed,

and they have more things to do than just school,

like sports, jobs, watching over siblings.

FEAR

Lucas McCraney, Age 13

Fear. What is fear? Fear is waking up not wanting to leave the house because I know that people like me lose their lives because of our skin color, or who we love, or what we identify as. Fear is having a part of me die with those lost due to police brutality.

Fear is ducking down in my seat every time I see red white and blue lights. Why do I fear the colors of my own flag? That flag comes from a home not made for me. A home that has been broken since before I was born. If this home of mine has laws against domesticabuse, why does everyone in it keep witnessing more and more victims?

Fear is talking with a shaky voice every time I speak the truth. I have fear, but I am not made of fear. I am made of strength, bravery, wisdom, beauty, pain, poverty, and perseverance. I cannot be one without the other. My face and voice are brought out by others overcoming their fears. We all speak through our fears, but we are not fear. Don't see me or people like me as fearful. See us and hear our voices. The true beautiful people we are will not be silenced by our fear. Fear will always be there. Will we continue to let fear tell our stories, or will we overcome fears and tell our own stories?.

THERE IS
LOVE HERE

Neveah Sheckles, Age 13

After “There are Birds Here”
by Jamaal May

For South Louisville

There is love here.

Not the love of crime, drugs, and money,

but the brotherly love that is shared throughout the years.

We fight and sometimes things get crazy, but only ‘cause we care

but we'll always make up,

because there is love here.

Shots fired is what you hear on the news.

Not at all knowing

that today's DaDa's birthday.

That's what the fireworks are showing.

Our block represents him with his favorites

red, black, and blue.

You see the "hatred" of the "hood" but

I see the love and the rest of us see it too.

And yes bad things happen.

But not because of hate,

but because of love and bonds that have been tested and broken deciding another's fate.

We all cry together in these terrible times.

Wish the mothers of lost and dead children nothing but peace in their lives.

Why?

Because there is love here.

Mrs. Carter watches all the children play manhunt,

all the girls and boys of M Street.

You won't see this on the news but everyone's happy.

The mothers laugh with Mrs. Carter spilling the tea.

The fathers are inside watching football and smoking.

The streetlights come on and the kids sit on Boogie's front porch.

We laugh and make jokes about our game.

We're all tired and stinky so we call it a day.

My mommy tucks me in my bed where I comfortably lay.

That's my South Louisville.

You may call it ghetto, dirty, unsafe.

I call it happy, carefree, and my favorite place.

J. Cole said there's beauty in the struggle

now I understand.

And in case you didn't get the point,

what I’m saying is,

there is love here.

SHOUTOUT

T’errah Griffith, Age 14

Shoutout to the students who know exactly what they want to do in life.

The students who have high expectations for themselves but can never seem to meet them.

Shoutout to the students who can spend all day worrying about assignments and still get nothing done.

The students who try their hardest to feel interested but their phone is right there.

Shoutout to the students who never turn their camera on, ‘cause I know, it’s just weird like that.

Shoutout to the students who can think of a million things at once but have trouble with formulas.

y=mx+b guys.

Shoutout to the students who lie to their parents and say there’s no work so they can play video games.

Yeah, me too.

Shoutout to the students who need help with their assignments but can never work up the courage to ask a teacher.

Maybe send them an email.

Shoutout to the students with their backpack defense in a couple days and still have done nothing.

Let’s help each other.

Shoutout to the students losing sleep from thinking too much about what you could’ve done today.

It’s okay, you can try again tomorrow.

Shoutout to the students stressing over high school because Disney Channel lied and said it was perfect.

Just be yourself.

Shoutout to the students who are just like me, confused 80% of the time but somehow still functioning.

One day, you’ll be content with your choices.

I STAND

Rachel Hesse, Age 15

I understand that I will never understand what it's like to be you.

I understand that I will never go through the same things you go through.

I understand that my ancestors, my grandparents, and my parents have never gone through what yours have gone through.

I understand that I have privilege because ofthe color of my skin, my religion, the way I dress, the way I speak, The way I act, the things I have, and my sexuality.

I understand that I will never fully understand what it's like to be you.

To be abused and killed because of your race.

To be harassed and threatened because of your religion.

To be name-called and beaten because of your sexuality.

What I do understand is the way it feels to be catcalled and leered at,

To be terrified of walking alone, especially at night,

To have expectation after expectation piled onto my shoulders,

TO be told what I can and can't do.

And if you feel anything like I do, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry that people who look like me yell slurs at you

and threaten you

and make the world unsafe for you.

I understand that I will never understand what it's like to be you, but I stand with you.

I stand with you against racism and oppression.

I stand with you against bigotry and white supremacy.

I stand with you against homophobia and toxic masculinity.

I stand with you against Islamophobia and antisemitism.

I stand with you against hate.

BLAZE ON

Sofia Louisse, Age 14

I once knew a female leader. She was cold and mean but everything was in order. She wore a black pantsuit. Eyes like a panther. Her employees all feared her. No one went near her. She hated all men. But all women too. Someone told me that’s just what female leaders do.

. . . pause . . .

What?! Of course not. This is just a thought that someone else brought into your mind. The wrong kind of person. That’s why you assume the worst then, right? You want to bark before you bite. But, guess what, boys aren’t dogs. A woman isn’t a catastrophic creature. That’s why we’re off to a good start. Let’s stop with the lowly labels. Women are just as able as men. You can’t just assume that if your female leader looks wrong, she is wrong. These are the double standards. That’s what’s going on. It’s about equality. Shout out to the coalition. A bunch of women and men on a mission. We want to make things right. Shed some light on these issues. It’s different for both.

In one room, you have a man in a polyester suit, sitting at a desk so shiny, it’s a mirror. Sometimes you close your eyes and wish you were here.

The next room. You open a wooden door. She’s sitting there in the closet room, the desk covered in scuffs. Out of your word, she has become.

Both were capable but one was a woman. You say sexism is dead. My dear, it seems they misled you. All the hands that fed you, they out led you. You thought it was better, but it's not. Look at how far women got, though. These women have soared above the odds. You give them applause now, but did you yesterday?

This is the error we make. We need to start young, knowing that everyone deserves a shot. You saw how hard it was. And they make it through. Now we need to support them. Help them soar so fast through soft puffy clouds. Like cotton candy. Be sweet. See what’s right in front of you. Support them because there’s love in you. Because they need it too. Women are just as capable. Feminism is inescapable, but in that way that traps you in a hopeful hug. Pulls you in with a gentle tug. We just want to give some love to the women who work. The female leaders in the world. You’ve been through the storm but now, it’s worth it, girl! Here’s to hoping we start making the world strong. But for now blaze on.

Scan QR code to pre-order your copy of *We Will Write Through This.*

**Two hundred and eleven young people contributed from 27 zip codes in Louisville.**
Forwards from: Attica Scott, *Kentucky State Representative*; Jon Cherry, *Photographer*; Josie Raymond, *Kentucky State Representative*; and Bruce Ucan, *Mayan Cafe Owner and Chef*.

THE DANGER
OF POSITIVITY

Ally Howard, Age 13

Positive. All my life, I’ve been taught that positive is supposed to be a word of praise, of gratitude. It is a word that I have always yearned for, longed for. Not this time. Now, I am Hester and that word will be permanently emblazoned alongside my name.

Tendrils of uncertainty swirl and wrap around my mind, searching for any rational thoughts and replacing them with convoluted ones. I rifle through them all as my Ford stalls; its brakes grinding to a halt. Who had done it? Was it the waiter with the sun-kissed skin and warm, kind eyes? The ice cream scoop from our favorite shop down by the marina? Or was it a stranger, a passerby blissfully unaware of the illness they carried?

My brother and I sit in silence—not the comfortable silence we often enjoy while cruising down winding country roads, but the deafening kind—the suffocating kind, stifling as the humid summer air escaping from my slightly cracked window. The petulant word once again reverberates through my skull as static cuts through the heavy silence like a knife. Just another radio host droning on and on about infection counts and hospitalization rates: numbers I had heard twice, then a handful of times, until finally I could recite them in my head as easily as my multiplication tables. Now we were one of those numbers. One of the infected.

I force my eyes to focus on the expansive asphalt before me—a blur of unfamiliar buildings, people, and road signs flashing by. My knuckles have gone bone-white on the steering wheel. I know that with my clouded judgment, all it would take is one more stray thought to send me spiraling off-road. Next to me, my brother reaches for the air conditioning knob, now weathered with age, and I embrace the cool air seeping out of the vents as it dances upon my skin.

I had heard that the test was the worst part. A technician covered head-to-toe with layers upon layers of protective gear having to stick a swab so far up your nostrils you fear it might reach your brain. But the test wasn’t the worst part. The discomfort and the pain from the test only lasted a matter of seconds, but this, this was the worst part. This was complete agony. The gaping mouths, the raised eyebrows, the judgment. The stares so piercing that they bore a hole in the back of my head. This was the worst part.

Or so I thought.

Fourteen days. Fourteen days without any contact with the outside world. Complete and utter isolation.
Life as I knew it, frozen in time. The uncertainty I would experience for the next 14 days. The fear I would experience during those 336 hours. The loneliness that would fester over the course of those 20,160 minutes. What I would soon realize is that those two weeks—that was going to be the worst part.

“Ally, go.”

The sound of my brother’s deep voice snaps me out of my haze as a field of green floods my vision. I quickly release my foot from the brake pedal, and my car’s engine faintly hums in response. The drive lasts for what seems like hours, mile-long stretches of land slowly fading away into nothingness. The word continues to linger near my ear like a mosquito in the summertime. Positive. The one word that holds enough power to change your life forever.

DEAR VOTER

Josie Wright, Age 11

Dear Voter,

I want you to know that your vote matters. Those are probably words you’ve heard already. Even I, a kid too young to vote, have probably heard them hundreds of times. Your vote matters. You might be tired of hearing it. Maybe you’re thinking, "I already know my vote matters! I’ve already voted! Why do I have to keep hearing this?" If that is the case, great job. If it isn’t, you might still be thinking, "No, it doesn’t. My vote is just one in millions. My vote won’t determine the result of the election. It doesn’t matter." If you believe your vote is insignificant, do you also believe your ideas and opinions are insignificant? Do you believe you are insignificant? You aren’t. If neither of the scenarios above applies to you and you’ve never heard or read the words “Your vote matters” or even someone just telling you to vote, you are not living in 2020, but you should still read this entire letter because this information will always be relevant. There will never be a time when your vote doesn’t matter.

Now that I have persuaded you to vote (or not, if you were already persuaded by someone else), I will go into more detail about the significance of voting. Remember that when you vote, you’re not just voting for a candidate who will represent you, you are voting for a candidate who will represent your community, whether that be your country, your state, your county, your city, or your neighborhood. You’re choosing someone who will represent every part of your community. Every person, plant, and animal in your community. Every candidate you vote for will have power if they win. You need to choose someone who you trust with that power, someone who will use it for good. I’m not going to name any specific candidates because I don’t only want this letter to be about the present. It’s also about the future. Your vote matters.

But you need to know that voting is not the only thing that you can do to change the world. Your vote gives you power, but so does your voice. Use them both to make the world a better place.

Sincerely,

Me (Josie Wright)

Gen Z HIGHLIGHTS MADE MY 2020!

Magadelenis Fuster, Age 13

Who would’ve known that the generation that ate Tide pods as a trend would be the generation that fixes the world. We, who stand together, because we only have each other, because we grew up with each other—so close, yet so far. We’re actually moving forward in fixing society’s problems; and I hope we eventually fix them all. I know I want my generation and future generations to go through what I or others have had to deal with all their lives.

This past year, well two years, I just say it’s one because it doesn’t feel like more than one—2020 really went “Kachow, I’m speed!” Anyways, recently I’ve gotten a deeper appreciation for my classmates, people on the internet and this generation. Many may say social media is bad for your mental health—I beg to differ. I learned that if used healthily, social media can do more good than harm. Social media keeps us all connected and that’s what I appreciate about Gen Z during this pandemic. You all made this entertaining and life changing, opening my eyes to new points of view.

The way you laugh at everything, life or death—pandemic, pranking a cult-like president gives me hope that as the future inevitably falls upon us, we’ll fix things with chaotic energy and comedy. The way you say “mood” or “same” to every horrible thing to making fan edits of Anonymous is so amusing, yet so telling and iconic about this generation.

You, Gen Z inspire me to strive for change. I see the way you protest, the way you deal with the problems in this world makes me want to do the same. Hundreds of people on the road to win our ongoing battle against social injustice. My favorite thing about this is my classmates getting passionate about certain problems— I enjoy watching, I love to engage.

Looking chaotic is the new Gen Z fashion—kissy face emoji, kissy face emoji, heart emoji. Crazy scientist hair to go to Walmart without a care what anyone may surmise. But it’s not a fashion show I came to see—but the comedy. Gen Z you’re confident yet insecure, bold yet shy. You throw tear gas back to cruel cops, but are too afraid to ask a waiter for a straw.

I could sincerely go on and on about the reasons you made my 2020. I thought there was no hope, but one glimpse at you—Gen Z—made me realize that you can change this world’s fate because you grew up aware and in the aftermath of other generations’ problems. Also that future advertisements will probably have nothing to do with what a company is advertising . . . but never mind that, I feel as if you’re underappreciated for everything you’ve brought to the table so far; and since times are rough in 2020.5, I, as a fellow Gen Zer, would like to say, thank you, and we will get through this.

DEAR WORLD

Lillie Gernert, Age 13

Dear World,

We lost a lot this year, that’s obvious.

We lost friends, family, and role models.

We lost too much.

But we fight back.

We stand tall while taking the punches.

We get knocked down, but we stand back up, our skin already bruising.

We push past the pain, the sadness, we don’t lose hope.

We scream and shout, voicing our opinions.

Demanding to be heard, to make things better.

Our voices alter others, but we do more.

We gather and work together.

We feed the hungry, we work to save our planet.

We try to make the world a better and fairer place for people of color,

women of color, members of the LGBTQ+ community and women around the world.

Sometimes people try to stop us.

Our voices falter, we become silent.

But we never stay silent for long.

We will always fight back.

LIGHT OF HOPE

Helena Smith-Pohl, Age 12

Waiting.

Anything?

Nothing, a year drags on.

Another day sad and alone.

But as all plants bloom,

as does a new year.

A new start.

A new day has begun

to become the sun.

There is no time to be a shadow.

As life goes on and on,

a light of hope that shines on everyone.

CHANGE

Habsa Ahmed Mohamed, Age 13

From the start of last year our lives have turned inside out. Beginning with rumors of war between Iran and the US to our lives taking twists and turns like a rollercoaster.

Today our lives are still different, not being able to see friends and family, having to do everything virtually. And millions of lives have been lost, due to COVID-19, murders, injustice, or just normal diseases. But nevertheless we lost many this year.

There have been so many things that made us feel like we are at this breaking point. This feeling that made us think that with everything going on we may never return to normal. And what is normal?

Normal is definitely not how we’re living right now, but we have to make this our everyday life. And this normal, may hopefully be temporary. It might take months or even years to get back to how we used to be. So don't think about the hardships we have dealt with. Think about the changes we have made and the many more changes we will make.

We don't want to return to the normal racism and injustice. Where people can body shame and look down on others because they don't reach society's beauty standards. Where people intentionally hurt others for their own selfish reasons. Where treating others differently because of the single story you have of them is natural. We don't want to return to that normal. Because in that normal people get hurt whether it's intentional or not.

We want the normal where people get to hug each other. See families and friends without worrying about catching the virus. Be able to bring each other up and not down. The normal where we don't judge someone at first sight, where we can normalize standing together and voice what we think is wrong. That should be our normal. And we are the only people who can change the present to make a better future.

I know we are still in this difficult place in life and we are able to adjust to change. Yes, we are in a pandemic, but has that stopped us from learning? Has that stopped us from working? Has that stopped us from waking up every day, ready to do our best?

No, it hasn't. And that shows that when we do make change, we will adapt to it. Because, even if we are at our lowest, we will still climb up to the top. Even if the whole world seems to be crashing down, we will still stand up strong. Because at the end of the day, it is we who have the iron fist.

As life goes on, let’s not just waddle around and let life
go by us, without doing anything. Let's make a change while we still can. Together. For our generation, and the ones after.

REMEMBER

Amora Fowler, Age 14

Dear World,

Do you remember? Remember when we were all united? Remember United We Stand, Divided We Fall? Remember when we could go to the store without a mask? Do you remember? Do you remember when we could go take a walk downtown and not worry ‘bout a thing? Do you remember?

Remember when we raged and protested? When we broke those store windows? That wasn’t a protest. Do you remember when we made signs and walked down streets peacefully while yelling out George Floyd and Breonna Taylor? That was a protest.

Remember walking into the store without a mask? Remember that? Now we wear a mask, some of us anyways . . . and we do that because some of us care about others.

United We Stand, Divided We Fall. Sometimes I think of Divided We Stand, United We Fall.