The editor would like to thank all involved for their time and effort on this edition of The Voice.

The opinions expressed in any Sweet Briar College publication or other forms of media are not necessarily those of the students, faculty, staff or administration. Therefore, Sweet Briar College is not responsible for its content.

Editorials represent the opinion(s) of the editor(s) and/or staff/guest writer(s).

This site was designed and is maintained by Caroline Baxley. Please email any questions or comments concerning the web site to her.

Talkin' about my generation
By Natalie Pye ’07
STAFF WRITER

I have a confession to make - I have forgotten genocide. Now I’m not exactly renowned for remembering important events (just ask my father who received his birthday card from me last year a full three days after his actual birthday), but I am a self proclaimed tree-hugging, bleeding-heart, Volvo-driving, NPR-listening liberal who knew the lyrics to “Blowing in the Wind” before those of “My Country ‘Tis of Thee.” On paper I look like the stereotypical student who can barely be bothered to attend class when there’s a rally to be held or a hunger strike to attend. I hardly seem the type to go days without devoting any thought to the systematic slaughter of an ethnic group. However, the fact remains that I have forgotten about a genocide and, worse still, I am far from being alone.

Like most people my age, I learned about the Holocaust in school, read Anne Frank, have seen movies like Hotel Rwanda, and have been inspired by hearing world leaders vow “never again.” However, like the world leaders who seem to need to repeat that “never again” speech after some new incident of man’s inhumanity toward man, I am coming to realize that good intentions alone are not enough to prevent cruelty of epic proportions. It’s not that I want people to suffer, it’s just easier sometimes to wrap myself in the comfortable cloak of issues closer to home; my family, my friends, my future, my deadlines, even next week’s episode of Grey’s Anatomy.

When Darfur does surface on my radar, I am momentarily consumed by guilt; how could I have forgotten the unimaginable terror and suffering of these millions of people? How could I have been blinded for even one instant by my own comfortable lifestyle? It is easy to channel the blame into anger, even fury, towards the world leaders who seem to have so much power yet do not give their full-throated support to the victims of ethnic cleansing. To blame “the media” for using it’s unparalleled infrastructure to bandy partisan barbs rather than giving non-stop coverage of the genocide until something meaningful is done to end it. At the end of the day, however, I know I have only myself to blame.

When confronted with world events that could be considered my generation’s Vietnam, I find that, when confronted with the chance to act, I (and the majority of my peers of all political stripes) lack the willingness to fling myself far enough into a cause enough to bring about real social change. We can’t take all the blame ourselves, but nor should we try to shunt it off entirely onto third parties. Our apathy, my capability to forget genocide, is indicative of a larger issue. In an era where we are connected with the world on an unprecedented level, where thousands take fate by the reins and decide the next American Idol, I wonder why we aren’t using this tremendous tool to greater effect. My great-grandmother saw women get the vote, my grandmother remembered the outrage against McCarthy’s blacklist, and my mother saw the end of Jim Crow in the south. What will my daughter be able to say of my generation?