As I left home to board my flight back to Yale this past Spring Break, my mother grabbed my arm just before I walked out the door. She told me her usual requests and advice: take care of yourself, put your health first, let me know when you arrive at the airport and when you land, have the greatest time and always remember who and where you are. I nodded and walked away, but she held my arm firmer and drew me back, leaning in close. “And be careful about what you’re writing at the YDN. Lay low for a while.” 

I nodded my head. We both knew what she meant. 

In my AP U.S. History class in high school, I learned about the term “bully pulpit,” used to denote a public office or authoritative position, often the presidency, that grants its occupant an exceptional opportunity to speak out on any issue. As a columnist for the Opinion desk, I am in a somewhat similar position. I have a platform. I can address any issue I would like. But this comes with a major caveat.

For better or worse, the News gets more attention than your average college paper. It is subject to frivolous criticism on Fizz just as much as it is subject to scrutiny from alumni, Ivy-eyed organizations and perhaps, at times, the federal government. In short, people in my position must constantly and conscientiously fulfill two roles: first, as a collegiate newspaper that sparks campus discourse about issues as mundane and trivial as what we see making its rounds on Fizz; and second, as an widely-read paper with a mandate to discuss big, serious issues. Issues that, in some cases, put our names and livelihoods in jeopardy.

As a student journalist, my writing must toe a fine line, between addressing first-year imposter syndrome at Yale to writing about the impact of wildfires on my native Los Angeles.

A slew of complicated mandates emerges: be serious, but not too serious. Wield rhetoric without being tacky. Be strong in your opinions, but qualify every word lest you offend somebody or hurt somebody else, or perhaps blacklist yourself from a job that you’ll want a decade down the line. Be prudent and judicious, yes, but also speak of controversy quietly.

Write so you can walk down the street safely.

The responsibility I hold is not necessarily of a dual nature, but it has drastically different levels of scrutiny. I knew that becoming a columnist for the Opinion desk would come with its fair share of criticism from my peers; in this business disagreement is a part of the game. But the firmness of my mother’s grasp told me she wasn’t worried about what my peers were critiquing on Fizz.

This powerful bully pulpit from which we speak may be more aptly named the Bullied Pulpit; we can affect change with our journalism, but the consequences of our words make us targets on campus and off, interpersonally and nationally. The gap between being perceived as an instigator rather than an initiator is a mere misstep. 

Journalism must of course be respectful, accurate and prudent in how it disseminates both truth and opinion, but there is a line between courtesy and cunningly contrived culpability. There is a difference between knowing better and knowing better given circumstances that should not be.

In this world we live in right now, voicing a belief apparently requires caution. Doing so can be socially “dangerous” due to the scrutiny we face amongst peers online, but this has always been the case. What has changed is the scrutiny we face beyond campus. Exercising the power of our voices can be dangerous, legally and personally. Now more than ever, we must be smart about how we speak and careful about what we write. We must be aware of our audience, which may now include the federal government. Our job has become far more political. In this present world, we cannot forget that we speak from a bullied pulpit. We cannot allow ourselves to be the cost of outspokenness.

There is much to question and oppose. Answers to these questions and encouragements of these oppositions are begged during times when even the most opinionated fall silent. 

As a staunch advocate for candor, truth and advocacy in itself, I shudder to recommend self-censorship as a solution to this issue. But I would be wholly irresponsible to advocate for flagrant outspokenness when the threats we face are far more permanent and far more damning than normal backlash. Depending on the situation, education, citizenship status and familial livelihood could be at stake. I urge you to exercise caution. 

I cannot give you perfect guidance. Every case is unique, every person is different. I am once again reminded of my mother’s wisdom. The best advice I can offer you is what she told me: lay low for a while.

MIA GORLICK is a first year in Pierson College. Her fortnightly column,“Beyond the Headline,” explores all facets of life, micro and macro, mundane and major, that shape the lived experiences of the people that shape Yale. Through her writing, she gives words to the shared human experiences that lie beyond the buzzwords, and establishes a platform and forum where she can exercise the power of her own voice and in doing so, encourage and inspire others to do the same. She can be reached at mia.gorlick@yale.edu.