Here we are. The inauguration of our 45th president is less than a week away and most of us don’t really know what to say. It seems that polite discussion has dissolved into Facebook rants in all caps; for two years my Twitter feed has been filled with political memes and honestly, I am tired. I have been tired since twenty-three separate candidates announced themselves to the world and faced off in the first debates. This was my first opportunity to vote in a presidential election, but my excitement quickly turned to dread as that November morning drew nearer. Perhaps it was because this was my first chance to shape my country, the first time I got to learn and evaluate and make my own choice: everything seemed so desperate. Every article I read, every news program I watched, every person I spoke to did so with a sense of finality. Like the outcome of this one day would change our lives and our country forever.

But on November 8th, 2016, the sun rose. I cast my vote, I held my breath, and I watched as the country made its choice. And then, the sun rose again. The great catastrophe so many had spoken of didn’t come. It didn’t matter who had won because the world spun on anyway. So I did what could do. I got up, I went to class, and thought in the words of a great fictional president: “What’s next?”

Many are happy. Others are angry. And while sadness and pride and disappointment and anger are perfectly valid emotions- they are not very effective. While photoshopping politicians’ heads onto lizards or yelling at distant cousins on Facebook is cathartic, it is not productive. We can shout “Not My President!” all we want, but the fact remains: in the eyes of the law and our Constitution- he is. He may represent our views, he may not. He may inspire us or he may terrify us. But on January 20th, Donald Trump will become our President. While there is nothing we can do to change this fact, we are not entirely powerless. We have forgotten that our country was founded on the idea that we- the people -have the power to affect our government, and not just on election day.

Democracy is not a passive system. It requires the active participation of the people, not only to work but to thrive. Democracy allows us to choose our representatives, to communicate with them and let them hear our support, our concerns, our questions. Questions like “Why is the average ACT score in my state a 19?” “Why is our state the only one in the country that’s never elected a female to Congress?” “What can we do to protect LGBT youth?” and many others. The job of a politician is to answer to the people. How can they answer if we don’t question?

If we don’t continually communicate and question our leaders, we are willingly giving away our power. The power of the common people is not limited to once every two years or every four years. We carry the unlimited power of speech, of sharing our voice and joining it with others. This is where social media can be an incredible force if used correctly. We have a wealth of information at our fingertips, but unfortunately, most of us don’t take full advantage of the technological powerhouse we carry in our pockets.

I am very guilty of this. It is so easy to re-tweet, to share, to like, then close the app and forget. But change does not come through hashtags and upvotes. Like anything worth having, it requires effort. Decisions are made by those who show up. This is not to say that social media is worthless. The ultimate power of social media is organization and communication. Through these hashtags, through a combined message, people can join together, can find others around the world who support their ideas. But once they come together, what do they do?

The best and most effective way to communicate with an elected official is a handwritten letter. A handwritten letter cannot be scanned by a computer like an email or social media message can. A handwritten letter cannot be deleted or trigger an automated response. It must be read by a human being. That’s why, dear reader, I am giving you a challenge. In the next two weeks, take an hour to sit down and write a letter to an elected representative: local, state, or federal. While writing, consider this:

1. You don’t have to be a constituent of the representative you are writing. If you’re a student attending college away from home, the actions of the local government affect you too. The same applies to representatives of different states. If another representative has a great solution for climate change, let them know that you support them and will be encouraging your own representatives as well.
2. Be polite. It is okay to be angry, it is okay to be critical of our elected officials, but profanity and insults will get you nowhere. Do not mask your intentions, but communicate them clearly and graciously.
3. Get informed, and stay informed. Follow the social media of multiple news sources, from the right and left and everywhere in between. Read news articles in line at the coffee shop and talk to others on forums. Allow yourself to be open to new ideas. If you’re conservative, talk to someone who is liberal, and vice versa. Not to argue, but to understand the opposite point of view.

According to the Broadway musical Rent, the opposite of war isn’t peace, but creation. The peaceful transition of power is part of what sets us apart as a country, but even more so is our ability to create. Music, art, film, organizations, charities, we are a country of creators- and I believe we can create a better world for ourselves. It begins when we decide to participate in a system founded on the belief that we could do just yet. So whether you think the next four years are a fight or a victory lap- let’s create something new together, one day at a time.