Outreach Jayne Albrecht

A couple of my friends and I found ourselves on a side of Missoula we hadn't ever been to. We stood outside of a square-shaped gray building made of cement on the outside. I had already accepted that we were about to discover a new level of the real world: Certain Doom.

Three days before, our Creative Writing teacher informed our class about a slam poetry reading in our town. Our teacher encouraged us to split into groups, write a poem, and challenged us to even enter the reading and share what we had to say. Slam poetry, a very emotionally charged writing style, was not all too difficult for us to achieve. We feared for the rights of women, the LGBTQ+ community, and the people of color in our country because of the administration who seemed to care for only cisgender white males. Not knowing what we were getting into, two of my friends and I enrolled ourselves to read our thoughts in front of a sea of strangers. I thought I could do it until I shifted my car into park at the venue.

Now, I have never been one for talking in front of groups of people, especially strangers. I grew up shy, dreading dinners and barbecues because I was afraid of kids my age. As a child, I hid behind my mother when I didn't know anybody, and as a...