Throngs of high school students, all dressed in varying degrees of formality, rush through the hallways like miniature tempests. Their tailwinds bring about bursts of hot-headedness and finger-pointing, rapport and laughter. This loud chaos of such a tournament is ironic; such a diverse group of people, from those crying in the bathroom after a brutal loss to those celebrating wins with their team, have in one way or another converged at a random high school for a unified purpose: to debate.
A scene less depicted, though, is all the backbreaking preparations that come before. Hours of research stretch from the afternoon into the wee hours of morning, and obsessions over debate evidence overshadow all other thoughts. It’s wearying and exhausting. Yet, at the end of the day, I find that all the work is somehow worth it for the garnered skills. Debate teaches problem-solving—real problems and how to veritably solve them—and that simple reward is enough.
In fact, a common statistic thrown around the debate community is that 10% of all debaters become policymakers, people who solve actual issues affecting massive demographics. The skill of identifying problems and configuring policies to alleviate them is one uniquely gained from debate and especially important for students today. That’s why I teach children at my local Chinese cultural center debate: without this program, many would lack the ability to effectively form arguments and defend them logically, crucial skills in any environment. Being able to spread these hard-earned techniques and subsequently seeing the kids impassioned about my favorite activity has been one of my proudest accomplishments.
Normally, debate, from paying for coaching to attending prestigious tournaments, is an unnecessarily expensive activity, so many interested students are excluded before they even truly begin. This form of low accessibility has been an increasingly detrimental barrier to entry to the event, and by volunteering to coach the next generation of high school debaters, I hope to lower this barrier to any degree possible. In the same vein, through the Germination Project, I plan on raising awareness for and distributing vital resources for those struggling with opioid addiction.
My passion for this began where most others’ die: first period health. The class had begun with a short lecture on the types of opioids, but much of the content quickly reduced into a faint buzzing in the back of my head. What had piqued my interest, however, was when the teacher began passing out what looked like little blue pH test strips. Eventually, I learned that they were test strips for fentanyl, the main driver for drug overdose deaths. Because fentanyl contamination within illicitly purchased opioids is so common, accessible fentanyl test strips are the difference between life and death. What could be even more important, however, is Narcan, an easy-to-use spray that reverses opioid overdoses in minutes. Even if it’s applied to someone who is not overdosing on opioids, Narcan will still have no side effects. It’s easily the best option to fight the opioid epidemic.
Tragically, like debate, the issue with these solutions lies in their accessibility. Treatments and preventative measures for addicts are few and far between, and those that do exist come with massive price tags. Consequently, many who seek out treatment on their own are priced out by it, unable to receive the life-saving medical resources. With the guidance and support of the Germination Project, I would organize seminars informing people in areas with high overdose rates on how to apply Narcan on an overdose victim. In addition to this, I plan on coordinating Narcan and fentanyl strip distribution to the same areas. As overdoses are described as the number one cause of accidental death, these simple actions are key to benefitting Philadelphia holistically.
Moreover, the overdose crisis affects the most vulnerable since it is also the number one cause of death for homeless individuals. I recall that once, on my walk to school in Germantown, I noticed two police officers standing over an unconscious man with a syringe in his hand. While walking past, I heard them call in that the man had overdosed on heroin that was presumably laced with fentanyl. This shockingly harrowing scene during something as mundane as my commute confronted me with the brutal truth of just how inaccessible harm reduction for these individuals was. If passerby had access to Narcan to reverse his overdose, or if he were able to access fentanyl strips to test what he was injecting, this scene would likely have turned out very differently.
Accessibility—or lack thereof—is considered a prerequisite to all other arguments in a debate round because it does not matter how beneficial a policy is if the people cannot access it. Therefore, building projects to break down barriers to entry, whether with Narcan or debate, has long been a goal of mine. My work in my community is only the start of what I hope to be a dynamic future in helping others unlock opportunities that were previously not even considered. After all, without constant endeavors to increase accessibility, many would never be given the chance to experience the true pulchritude of the world, like the beautiful chaos of a tournament where so many different people gather just to debate.
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