Unheard Voices: Breaking my Silence as a Traditional Teen in a Woke City
Evan Werner ’27
It is time—long past time—for the traditional American teens of New York City to step forward and declare: we exist. We are here. And we will no longer suffer. As our great and honorable president Donald J. Trump said in his second inauguration speech: These will be the golden years. And yet, while most red states may be experiencing these golden years—low prices, sensible school curriculums, and pride in our glorious flag—living here feels like we never left Biden’s 1984-like dystopia. The national landslide defeat of the woke agenda has inspired me to come out of the closet. I will no longer be silent. I will not let this oppression stand. I will be the voice of reason at Bard and I call on my fellow traditional American teens to join me in making the City great again.
The persecution of traditional American teens within New York City public schools is an unimaginable injustice. For years, my parents have sent me to the most progressive public schools, where the only thing I’ve learned is how to measure my privilege on the Privilege Chart. Here at Bard, it's impossible to avoid the leftist propaganda on the walls and in the classrooms. Students here are force-fed DEI-approved woke literature about people from every color of the rainbow instead of true American heroes like Paul Revere, Thomas Jefferson, and Andrew Jackson. And then, there’s the health curriculum. At fifteen, I sat through an entire class that, for all intents and purposes, should have been called How to Get Pregnant 101. They would send us home every day with condoms, ones I can only assume were paid for with hard-earned American tax dollars that should be going to our troops. If it’s not enough that they're practically throwing condoms at students as we walk down the halls, the wooden dildos in Drew Miller's class don’t make it any better—paraded around like sacred relics, as if they’re meant to replace the cross or the Pledge of Allegiance. Chances are they source the wood from repurposed Confederate statues, chopped down in a dramatic act of woke resistance. And the bathrooms? Toilet paper is as rare as a straight white male lead in a Netflix show, but the pad and tampon supply overflows. The woke left wants us to suffer, conditioning us for the socialist future. Personal property is outlawed, but government-issued period products flow like water. It’s menstrual Marxism, and I refuse to comply.
One of the biggest casualties in woke schools is the male students' masculinity. Before the reign of the woke, boys were thriving. They asserted their proper role as leaders in school; answering every question and running discussions. In the hallways, they were not shunned from displaying their masculinity fearlessly grabbing and gripping each other while fantasizing they were WWE stars. Now, they’ve been deprived of the rightful glory they once had. They barely speak in class, pushed to the corner like vintage memorabilia from America's glory days. Teachers never call on them, scared to provoke the woke brigade and start an emotional uprising. Our schools have abandoned the natural order, turning authoritative, strong boys—once proud leaders—into an endangered species. If this were a red state, we’d have federally funded sanctuaries—safe spaces for men, to exist without fear and ostracization.
Men being emasculated in schools is not even the worst of it. My friend’s cousin’s best friend’s boyfriend swears his school in Brooklyn raised PTA money—not for books, not for essential learning materials, but for kitty litter boxes in bathrooms. You heard me right, fully-funded, custom-designed litter boxes that provide a quiet, safe space for students to express their inner feline. Schools aren't even hiding their satanic agenda anymore. What used to be a place for children to learn has turned into a cult for gender diversity. These schools are now actively preparing for the next evolutionary phase of the woke agenda: transforming children into furries. And this is just Phase One. What’s next? Will they be installing scratching posts in classrooms? Will chemistry class be replaced with “The Ultimate Guide to Petting Yourself into Self-Actualization?”
My life, being the most unfortunate, means I cannot go home to where my ideas are respected- I never get a break from woke rhetoric. My entire life I've been forced to live in a tiny apartment in Spanish Harlem with two bleeding heart liberal parents. Since I was young, they have mercilessly pushed the liberal agenda on me. First, naming me Evan, dressing me in non-gender-appropriate clothes, and taking me to drag queen book readings at the mere age of 5. And the horrors didn’t stop there. Every summer, they would force me into their old, foreign-made Honda EV and send me away to a pro-union, communist youth camp in the middle of the woods in Massachusetts. On the drive up I was tortured with old folk songs by Pete Seger and Joan Baez, and when we arrived to the sea of counselors with rainbow-dyed armpit hair, my parents passively watched as the communists confiscated my candy stash and added it to the communal pool. I lay awake at night, the echoes of Joan Baez still haunting my ears, wondering if I’d ever escape this socialist nightmare. It was at that moment that I was reborn. No longer fearing the woke agenda but fully radicalized against it. I knew I had to resist. I had to fight back. And so, I emerged from the trenches of woke indoctrination and engraved the American flag forever upon my heart. Its stars guided me through the war on masculinity and the radical left’s latest assault on objective truth.
When I turned fourteen, I finally got my own computer. I was then able to escape the constant hum of NPR and Greta Thunburg that plagued the media my parents force-fed me. I found inspiration in true American activists like Charlie Kirk, Joe Rogan, and adorable grandpas like Steve Bannon, who empowered me to be the voice of reason in my woke household. One night, while choking down yet another soy-tofu construction my mom made, I suggested we get a Tesla to support our patriotic champion, Elon Musk, who the radical left is treating so unfairly. My father, too deep in his own feminist delusions, refused to acknowledge the superiority of the cybertruck. So there I was, left to fend for myself in a house where logic is lost, soy rules, and traditional American values are just a punchline. After my father shut my idea down, I returned to my room where I found refuge in the soothing angelic voice of Ben Shapiro as I imagine so many traditional teens in this city have had to do.
I know I am not alone in these misfortunes. So, I call out to my fellow traditional American students who have suffered the cruel oppression of woke indoctrination. It’s time we reject this unpatriotic brainwashing and restore good old-fashioned, unquestioning nationalism to New York City classrooms. Make no mistake: the woke regime has one goal—to dismantle everything we hold dear. They chip away at common sense, rewriting reality until little Billy becomes little Belinda, little Susie is encouraged to explore her many identities, and little Johnny is reprimanded for manspreading during circle time. We will not bow to their woke kingdom or worship at the altar of their transgender gods. We must resist—before it’s no longer he/him or she/her, but comrade/they/them in the great socialist republic of Woketopia. Throw all the condoms, rainbow flags, and wooden dildos at me if you must; I will stand strong, unscathed, united with other oppressed traditional teens, ready to push back against this madness.