As I sit down to write my first piece for The Justice, I can’t help but think about how to best introduce myself to you all — Brandeis students, my peers, who know a thing or two about dissecting the nuances of power, language and politics. This isn’t just my introduction to the student body; it’s also a preview of how I’ll approach political coverage as we roll toward the 2024 presidential election. Let’s face it — voting in this election will be more than just ticking boxes. It’ll be about power, language and who gets to claim both.

A bit about me: I’m a Politics and Anthropology double major with a focus on linguistic anthropology, which isn’t just a fancy way of saying I like theory. I came to Brandeis because I knew I’d have the space to blend the academic with the personal — to study how language shapes power, but also to understand why that matters for every single one of us. Because trust me, it does matter, and the 2024 election is going to put that front and center.

I’ve elected to weigh in on the upcoming presidential race, but if you’re reading this, I assume you don’t need me to remind you of its importance. Instead, I want to take a different approach: how does language — the everyday, the political, the exclusionary — interact with the power structures we’re voting on? What does it mean when certain voices get silenced, not just by policy but by the subtle ways we use language to shut them out? Stick with me. I’ll share some stories from my work, studies and personal experiences that might make you think twice about the power dynamics at play in the lead-up to November 2024.

The TQNC Queer Policy Roundtable: Language in Action

Not too long ago, on Sept. 30, I found myself sitting at a roundtable in Boston featuring the Massachusetts Commission on LGBTQ+ Youth. Among the topics that came up? The rise of book bans — targeting LGBTQIA+ content, no less — and not just in places like Florida (classic) but right here in Western Massachusetts. Representative Jack Lewis and Shaplaie Brooks, the Commission’s Executive Director, explained how these decisions were made by local school committees, meaning folks who could easily be your neighbors. That’s democracy at work, right? But it’s also the subtle erasure of voices before they even have a chance to speak — when books, knowledge, and language itself are deemed too “dangerous” for public consumption.

This erasure is compounded by policies that allow parents to opt-out of curricula that include LGBTQIA+ topics. These “opt-out” provisions may sound innocuous, but they create an environment where certain identities and histories can be excluded from education altogether. When education on this subject becomes optional, what message does that send about the value of those lives and stories? This “opt-out” dynamic subtly reinforces the status quo and sidelines marginalized communities, depriving young people of crucial knowledge about themselves.

Here’s where it gets even more interesting: the students in the room were on fire. Two high school students from Milford asked how the Commission could create a queer space at the Boston Public Library for LGBTQIA+ youth, noting that Gay-Straight Alliances in their schools are literally being renamed to avoid the stigma attached to being seen as queer. Think about that for a second. It’s not just about book bans; it’s about how words get coded to push people out, how the politics of language shape public space and public identity. And these high schoolers? They’re finding ways to push back, to reclaim those spaces. It was powerful, but it also raised a critical question: when people — especially young people — are restricted or denied access to knowledge about their own identities, what does that do to their political agency? Who do they become, and who do they vote for?

And as Brandeis students, let’s ask ourselves: When was the last time we really thought about how our local politics are shaping the spaces we take for granted? When was the last time we asked ourselves who feels safe in those spaces? Who doesn’t have to think twice about whether their identity is accepted — and who is navigating public places on constant alert? My point is, the issues we face go deeper than just presidential platforms; they exist in the language of everyday life, and they will absolutely show up at the ballot box in 2024.

Language, Power and Voting: Our Everyday Reality

Sitting in that roundtable as a nonbinary person myself, I couldn’t help but think about how this conversation directly impacts the way I move through the world. When I travel for work with my colleagues, it’s not just about finding places to visit — it’s about checking whether a venue has gender-neutral bathrooms, or if folx will face microaggressions just for showing up as themselves. The daily dance with language and policy is real, and trust me, it gets exhausting. Now, think about how those realities play out when we’re talking about something as monumental as an election. What’s at stake when certain voices are already muted before they even get to the polls?

I’ll give you a real-life example: I recently went to the Student Union’s Presidential Debate watch party (where the snacks were on point, by the way). The energy in the room was palpable, and it reminded me of something we covered in Prof. Jill Greenlee (POL)’s class on Gender in American Politics — whether we vote based on our personal interests (pocketbook voting) or with the larger good in mind (sociotropic voting). So many of us are quick to claim that we’re voting for equality or to protect the marginalized, but are we really thinking about the sociotropic implications of those decisions? Because let’s be real: it’s easy to say “I’ll vote for progress,” but progress means something different when you’re in the margins. When your right to simply be is under attack, it’s not just about checking a box; it’s about survival.

Call to Action: Don’t Sleep on 2024

To bring this home, I want to point out something I recently heard from D’Angelo Wallace (a commentary YouTuber with some of the sharpest takes out there). He was reflecting on the idea that “both sides have issues” in this election, a sentiment that I’m sure we’ve all heard at least once. And Wallace, in his brilliant way, said this: “None of this is false. But shouldn’t I be compartmentalizing that energy for after the election?” Because the reality is, one side is actively trying to strip away the rights of marginalized communities —  the right to access information, to vote freely, to live openly. So, yeah, we can criticize the system, but let’s make sure we’re showing up to protect what rights we still have first.

If you take nothing else away from this piece, take this: Language isn’t just a tool for communication. It’s political. It shapes how we see the world and who gets to participate in it. In 2024, we’re voting not just for policies but for the kind of world we want to live in — a world where everyone has the freedom to learn, to speak, to be. So, don’t just vote. Show up with intention. Think about who isn’t being heard — and what that silence means for the future.