When I think of the word rejection, generally romance comes into mind. To reject or be rejected, is to find out whether your heart will be broken or if it will fly. Recently, the noun has expanded its definition to something far more intimidating: whether I allow ideas to come through.

Approximately three weeks ago I was promoted to be the Editor-in-Chief for the Muhlenberg College Chapter of Odyssey. When I was told this, the emotion I felt first was, quite simply, surprise with a touch of joy. I was thrilled to be given this role, and I was excited to take the lead. Upon talking to my managing editor, I was aghast at how much work went into this that I hadn't known about. That was when the nerves set in. In an instant, I had gone from creating, providing content, to choosing whether or not it goes live, whether or not people will be allowed to read this in the first place.

Though I was daunted by the task, I was up for it. I diligently read the content my creators came up with, embraced their different ideas with enthusiasm and verve. Though I had made an effort to read all of their articles before, there suddenly seemed to be more at stake now that I was clicking the button that would send them to the managing editor and then out into the world.

Though I consider myself centrist, Muhlenberg lies in the middle of a very blue district. An article came out a few weeks ago that sparked an immense amount of controversy within the Odyssey Community. The article, entitled "My Child Will Not Be Allowed To Be Transgender," has been since removed, but not before severely stirring the community. Even now, responses, retaliations, and disgust are being quite clearly articulated.

Though I was not the one responsible for the publication of this article, I cannot help but wonder what the creator and editor must be feeling a month after its publication. The article has been met with a stone wall of opposition, and certainly not kind opposition. Terms like "uneducated" and "problematic" continue to be thrown, almost completely forgetting the fact that these people are human. I have never spoken to the author of the article, nor had I ever interacted with her or her community. However, had this article come in front of my nose, I am not sure what I would have done.

On the one hand, this specific instance is an opinion that my community vehemently opposes. On the other hand, unpopular opinions still exist. If we are not aware of such a mindset, how will conversation ignite? Then again, if it is hateful, should it be treated as free speech, or rejected because it is targeting a specific group? What if the author never meant to target the group, but merely wanted to express their opinion? That being said, would the response damage the author and discourage them from writing further? Does the author not know what they are talking about? What about the audience? Will they read this and remember or take a glance, write a Facebook post, and forget about it? Is it well written in the first place? Does it contribute to a conversation, does it add a different point of view? Does it just say "I don't like this" and move on? Is this useful? Will it help anything? Or will it just hurt? Or will it hurt and help?

The power of rejection is a power that I have unknowingly been given. And though I love my role, I can't help but feel a bit of uncertainty regarding this specific part of it. Taking that kind of stance, telling someone, "I apologize, but I cannot let this go through," takes a fair amount of strength that I don't think many know about. It seems so much easier to say yes than it is to say no.

In an ideal world, everyone is happy and gets along and knows what everybody else thinks. But, to a certain extent, an ideal world without moral dilemma would be a rather dull one indeed. I can't help but wonder, if there's nothing to be angry about, will happy feel anywhere near as good as it does right now?