For the last four months writing here on Lifezette, I’ve critiqued liberal ideals, modern education standards, and delved into philosophical concepts, but these articles have all failed to mention the beauty in being a conservative. I, myself, am a conservative in a liberal state on my own journey pursuing truth while maintaining utmost dignity and respect for myself and those around me.
To be conservative is, at its core, to recognize that not everything old is outdated, nor is everything new inherently better. The philosophy itself grew from the belief that generations before us had accumulated wisdom worth preserving—a belief I have increasingly come to appreciate in a culture that seems determined to replace everything at once.
What fueled me in my own pursuit of truth was the murder of the late Charlie Kirk. His death reminded me that life is too short to not stand up for what you believe in. It’s undoubtedly cliché, but it’s also incredibly true. After September 10th, I co-founded a TPUSA chapter with one of my teammates. Our efforts reached more people than we could ever imagine. In fact, the number of those impacted exceeds 3,800 people. Think about that. What two individuals started has made an impact 1,900 times themselves.
Thereafter, I began interviewing individuals for Common Ground Campus and writing articles here on LifeZette. My doors have opened so wide, I can no longer see the lock that held them together.
I have even had the opportunity to meet people I once only knew through a screen—figures I admired for their courage, convictions, or willingness to speak when doing so was unpopular. I have seen Erika Kirk, Pete Hegseth, Alex Clark, Nick Shirley, Savannah Hernandez, Rob Schneider, Will Witt, and others. A year ago, I could not have imagined standing in the same rooms as people I had looked up to from afar. Yet those opportunities came because I was willing to step outside of my comfort zone and build something of my own.
I now seek higher education with a school rooted in the principles I have held fast to. I am privileged enough to see the direction I wish to take my life and career in, and I am immensely grateful that, by the power invested in me by God, I am able to see clearly and act without hesitation. I have put myself on a mission to serve others in the way I have been served by God.
But like many others, when I began to be outwardly proud of my beliefs and values, I lost friends—a lot of them. I was graded more harshly by my teachers, lost support systems, and most of all, I felt like I was shoved in a corner because I was one amongst few. In spite of the threats made at me by adults and peers alike, I knew I was beginning to do something. I didn’t know what at the time, but I knew I was carving the right path.
I thought it would be impossible to thrive in a liberal environment. I thought no one would stand by my side other than my parents. I thought opportunities were only reserved for those who fit certain narratives. But the thing about being a minority—a true minority—is that when you’re in a position such as mine, you learn very quickly to make opportunities. I’ve spent the last year building connections one by one, for I had zero connections prior.
I do not want to spend my life surrounded exclusively by people who think like me. What would I learn from that? What would I be challenged to reconsider? If I truly believe that I am pursuing truth, then I should not be afraid of questions. Truth does not become less true because someone challenges it.
This is perhaps the greatest misconception about being a conservative in a liberal environment: that the goal is to win every argument. It isn’t. The goal is to pursue truth. Sometimes that means standing firm. Sometimes it means listening. Sometimes it means realizing that the person across from you has a perspective you had never considered. And sometimes it means remaining respectful even when respect is not returned.
Every conversation has taught me something. And that is the irony of feeling like an outsider. I once believed being the minority would make my world smaller. Instead, it made me build a larger one. I had to find people. I had to create opportunities. I had to introduce myself, start conversations, ask questions, and put my work into the world before anyone knew my name. I had to become comfortable being uncomfortable. And somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing being different as a disadvantage. In fact, it has also given me something I would not trade: the confidence to know that I can stand alone without being lonely.
I once thought I needed an environment that agreed with me in order to thrive. Now I realize I needed an environment that challenged me to become someone capable of standing for what I believe.
My state may not reflect all of my beliefs. My school may not either. And the people around me certainly do not have to. But I do. And perhaps that is the most empowering reality of all: realizing that you do not need to be the majority to make a difference. You simply need the courage to begin.
