I ruined my 4.0 GPA. The grade point average I accumulated over the last four years tainted by one single class. “Advanced Placement English Literature & Comp.” was the title of the class that almost destroyed me. Allow me to paint the picture before you. It’s my senior year, I finished all my required classes in the previous years and even completed 8 college dual enrollment courses a few months prior. I was beyond proud of myself, however I had one underlying issue. I was an overachiever who tried to shove everything on her plate. So instead of cruising through senior year I chose to give myself three advanced placement courses out of my four course semester. I was given AP Environmental Science, AP World History, and finally AP English Literature & Comp. On top of this heavy workload I was editor in chief of my classes yearbook team, while also juggling my final year as a varsity cheerleader and 12th grade class president of my school. I thought dual enrollment prepared me for my times like this. That was before I met HER. The teacher other teachers referred to as “The Dragon”, that would be the lovely Ms. Hixson. Ironically she was everything but lovely from the first day of class. She was meticulous with her work. Every answer to every was expected to be nothing less of perfection. She didn’t overlook a singular error and she left no room to question. Looking back at my time now I can say I had become lazy. With my amount of other workload I thought she would cut or slack or ease off the huge amounts of workload but she didn’t. Her class was hers alone and so I could find no handouts when asking. And so I studied hard, put the extra time and effort into her work that I should have from the start. She was the first B I can admit I let slip onto my report cards in over two years. It was an infuriating feeling to experience, but it also made me realize my own errors. I learned how to push through the dragon and no longer cling to the comfort of excuses. I learned the risk of excuses and how to rise above and learn from failure.

“What’s your body count?” is an average question you may hear a high school student say in the cafeteria or even the hallway of my school. This “ body count” they are referring to is the number of sexual partners they have had. What used to be considered a private topic has somehow formed into a means of bragging. In most cases, the higher your “body count”, the higher your social status becomes in the ranks of high school. You automatically become a little cooler and a little more sought after with each growing number. However, all sec is not safe sex. The percentage of protection used amongst teens of both genders in America are both under 65%. This trend has become concerning to me as teenagers normalize the act of multiple sexual partners without regards for the importance of safe sex. Once said teenager engages in unprotected sex, it increases risk of potential diseases and unwanted pregnancy. Some diseases that could be potentially spread through these acts consist of Chlamydia, Gonorrhea, Syphilis, HPV, HIV, Herpes, Trichomoniasis, and Hepatitis B. These diseases can lead to serious health complications, sores, and discomfort. These issues do not only affect individuals but can quickly spread among the community. I didn’t fully understand how this could affect me until I watched people around me experience this firsthand. One of my friends, Aniyah, got herpes from her boyfriend at school without having intercourse with him due to her previous infection of the disease through multiple partners at only 16. Those two people were both in my class. Seeing someone close to me experience this made me realize how close I could have unknowingly been placed in the same situation while dating in high school. The influence of peer pressure in a high school setting can lead to risky decisions in hopes to “fit in” or gain popularity. At my school, any information about sexual education was a brief glance rather than an introduction to the actual effects of these decisions. Because of this, I feel as though many of the students in school may not fully understand the risks they faced. To help improve this problem and reduce spread of sexually transmitted diseases, I propose all high schools in Georgia require a semester-long program with a full curriculum highlighting the importance of sexual education. Schools could help create student led spaces where peers are able to have safe conversations openly discussing topics of safe sex. Providing students with accurate information and open spaces can help transform risky behavior into informed decisions that can help improve the community.

I’d like to die in a mahogany casket. That was my first thought as I began tracing the quiet cobblestoned path to my grave. Entering an eerie type of silence you can hope to only find comfort in moments before the destruction. Once death collects me, I hope at least I get a say in the wood that cradles me below. Cedar always felt… dull. She never quite stood out. And Oak—well, there was plenty of her to go around. But Mahogany? She’s different. Bold, a vibrant force that you couldn’t ignore. She took up space and never once apologized for it. Nothing like the chameleon of a person I had morphed into. Changing my colors to blend in with those surrounding me. I was but a mere river, always moving to the current of someone else’s rhythm, yet too afraid to take control of my own wave. I found myself catering to the next person's expectations after another. And so I took parts of those I admired, trying to scrape together my own version. But, when I looked in the mirror I was only faced with a girl that would never feel like “me.” I wasn’t actually dying but trying to find the confidence to just be me. Waving my fingers over the edge, I continued digging into this newly discovered hole. I willingly dug my own grave. Because for the first time in seventeen years of living under my mother’s roof, I finally spoke the forbidden word: “No.” For years, I let others dictate who I was “supposed” to be—especially her: my mother. That’s what she was, after all. She only did what mothers could do—she loved, she guided, and she tried her best. But her love came with weight, and with her guidance, pressure. She raised me with both love and expectation, interwoven together so deeply over the years, it felt hard to breathe. Seventeen years ago, at only 18 years old finishing up her first semester of college, she fell pregnant with me. Choosing to raise me, she left her studies behind, forced to create a life to provide for us both. She fought so hard for me to not follow in her footsteps that I never felt like I could stray from the molded path she created for me. I couldn’t breathe. My lungs felt as though they were closing in, and all the air left the room without telling me. Did they know this would happen to me? I could no longer give in to that fantasy that was killing me. And so I uttered the forbidden word. Some say your life flashes before your eyes in the moments before death approaches. But for me, death smiled. Tears began to prickle in her eyes as her warm embrace welcomed me. It wasn’t the end, but a beginning. A funeral for the version of me that never stood out because she spent all of her time trying to fit in. For most of my life, I believed shrinking myself was the price of happiness. That blending in was the safe alternative to standing out. But in burying that shadow, that once version of me who lived in self-doubt and fear of rejection made room for a girl who’s no longer afraid of taking space. The one who no longer measures her value in performance but her own authenticity and integrity. I am mahogany. Bold. Vibrant. Unignorable. And I will never apologize for that again.