If you read 34th Street's recent feature on Penn's peace movement and attended the Penn Forum debate on the war, you might think that our campus anti-war activists are all male. This misrepresentation must be corrected. People should see this community for what it is: an even mix of males and females from a variety of social and political backgrounds, working together to materialize our dissent. We must make it clear that anyone is welcome to join in this important work. Everyone's voice will be heard. Here are a few audible -- female -- voices. "This is a horrible, horrible thing, but I'll admit it: I voted for Bush." Natasha Mitchell, once politically uninvolved, is the newest Penn student to place herself at the forefront of the movement. "This is the first time I've been involved in anything like this," she says. "And the one thing I hadn't counted on was how much of a blessing it is to find people who feel the same way you do. It really takes away the feeling of impotence to come together as a group and make something happen. Maybe it'll only affect a few people, but that goes a long way." This is coming from a woman who, even when she joined Penn Students Against War in Iraq, only wanted a minor role. But soon enough, her sense of duty drove her to join the steering committee. "We have no choice but to live as a world, multilaterally. That's our responsibility. I honestly believe this, particularly since I helped put this person in office." Jen Coleclough didn't vote for Bush. She didn't vote at all -- she was too young. In high school, this subdued but smiley young upstart worked with Amnesty International, writing letters and painting protest signs to fight capital punishment, racism and homophobia. Arriving here this fall, Jen naturally joined Penn for Peace. "Activism for me has the dichotomous effects of satisfaction... and exhaustion...." Luckily, she seems more satisfied than exhausted. For her, the cause is worth the stress. "Living with happy, well-fed tunnel-vision would be nice... but unprogressive, for Pete's sake!" Katie Clarkson, a Nursing sophomore, finds herself in a peculiar bind. She opposes this military offensive, but her brother is a captain in the Marine Corps. "I joined the anti-war movement," she says, "because, although I support the military and others who are willing to risk their lives to protect the rights of American citizens, I just don't think war makes sense.... The government has yet to show any hard evidence that we have reason to invade Iraq." Katie, a bubbly marathon runner, defies the reactionary notion that anti-war activists inherently disrespect the sacrifices of military personnel. "I fully support my brother and what he does for a living, defending our country so that people like me can feel safe to voice our opinions." Our next activist, who asked to be called "M.B.," has taken full advantage of that safety, even though it seems increasingly dangerous to voice dissent in this country. M.B. got an early start at activism, writing a column about environmentalism in her town paper at age 14. She always had a passion for politics and spent her high school summers working on Capitol Hill. A "classic Democrat," she loved her party, loved her country and thought that neither could do wrong. Then she learned about the School of the Americas, a government training camp that teaches torture tactics to South American militants. Then she chose to work with public school children in Newark, N.J., one summer. Comparing her experiences at cocktail parties in D.C. with the impoverished classrooms of Newark, M.B. was outraged. So when she came to college and started fighting University ties with sweatshops, she was "working from a point of anger." M.B. experienced a turning point when a mentor said to her, "Are you doing this because you hate Nike or because you love the workers?" She realized that her activism must come from a place of love. A founding member of Penn for Peace, M.B. consistently works from that place. And it's especially useful on Penn's campus, which she appreciates: "It's not like at Berkeley, where you can just say anything and that's that. Penn demands a higher responsibility. We have to make a better case than your typical radical group." But that standard has its pitfalls. "Everyone is moderate these days since the atmosphere of centrism and bipartisanship has taken over," M.B. says. "No one wants to express strong arguments or strong passions because they want to appeal to everyone." But clearly, Penn is becoming a place where you can express strong passions and still appeal to a wide range of people. From a Democrat who voted for Bush to a seasoned activist who can quote Foucault, this anti-war community is diverse, dedicated and, thankfully, growing. Dan Fishback is a senior American Identities major from Olney, Md.
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