Sydney Jezik

Sydney Jezik | Essay

1st Place

Communications

Sydney Jezik is a senior studying political science, with a minor in communications, at BYU. She submitted an essay about her experience reporting from the Utah State Legislature with Deseret News.

To Help Them Understand

By Sydney Jezik

Being a journalist is weird sometimes. You feel like a fly on the wall — trying to go as unnoticed as possible so circumstances can unfold naturally. You sit and watch, pen in your mouth or your fingers poised above the keyboard, and you listen and you learn — and you stick to the facts rather than getting emotionally invested or picking a side.

Right now, I’m trying to do just that, but it’s tough. This is the most emotionally tense of the bill hearings I’ve yet attended in the course of my Deseret News internship at the Utah State Legislature.

The proposed law at hand is complicated but worth explaining: It would prevent transgender students from rooming with students of the gender with which they identify. It stems from a conflict between two roommates, one of whom was transgender, at a Utah university. The cisgender roommate took issue with the dorm assignment. The university would not ask the transgender roommate to move, so the family of the cisgender roommate launched an online campaign against the university. The campaign caught the attention of state representatives, who brought the legal bill to bear.

Public comment is allowed at hearings. Usually, just one or two people speak. But today there are two gigantic lines — one for people in favor of the bill and one for people against the bill. Every seat is packed and emotions run high. I sit tucked against the back wall, listening.

Supporters of the bill include many Christians, like me. One man passionately testifies to the legislative committee that only two genders exist, citing his religious beliefs. A woman who previously served as the church youth leader for the cisgender roommate opines that it is immoral to mix transgender and cisgender students in dorms.

Opponents of the bill include many prominent Utah LGBTQ+ advocates and friends of the transgender student. One such girl weeps as she shares a story of discrimination and harassment during her college education. And she is not the only one crying. Both roommates, who sit up at the front of the room, have shed many tears today. So have both their mothers, who sit by them.

When the hearing ends, the representatives vote, and half the room breaks into celebration while the other half of the room mourns.

I watch carefully. There is, to my view, no overlap between the two sides. The side that got their way congratulates one another with their backs to the other side. The other side hugs one another and wipes tears, telling each other it will be okay.

Again, I feel like a fly on the wall, invisible to the real, life-changing drama in front of me. But flies must buzz and annoy, and I feel annoying as I break into the drama to conduct interviews. As I get up, I remind myself: Keep your heart out of it. Be fair.

I first approach the roommate who “won” the vote. They stand with supporters, smiling, clearly exhausted. When I introduce myself as a reporter, they nod politely, then hesitate.

”I never wanted to go this far,” they admit, eyes going toward their crying former roommate across the room. “I wanted to feel comfortable where I lived.”

Their words are raw, unpolished. I imagine myself in their shoes. I thank them for their honesty and record their words with care.

Then I cross to where the roommate who “lost” sits with their mother. The latter’s face is streaked with tears, her hand clasping her child’s as though she can shield them from the world.

“I just want my child to be safe,” she tells me. “I don’t want them to be turned into a law, or a headline, or a debate.”

She describes the hate mail filling her child’s email inbox — the toll the ordeal has had on their family.

After I’ve spent a few more minutes with both sides, officials usher everyone out. As I leave, I wish I had more time with everyone there.

I hadn’t wanted to get emotionally involved. I’d wanted to be fair — that’s what reporters are supposed to be. And in one sense, I can already do that. I can write an article giving equal space to both sides. But fairness is not just equal time. Fairness also means equal understanding — with the heart. And while I naturally understand the side whose spiritual beliefs align with mine, my heart is opening after hearing the other side.

Both of these sides have Jesus Christ with them. Both sides are valid and real, and neither side deserves to be hurt. Both sides should be left feeling loved. I can imagine Jesus holding their hands, encouraging them, loving them. It fills me with the desire to be His hands here.

This experience changed me. I entered thinking my job was to observe. I left realizing my calling is to witness. This has shaped how I see my future. I no longer simply want to report facts. I want to build bridges. If we are to become like Christ, we must learn to humanize one another — to make our friend’s troubles our troubles, to esteem another just as we do ourselves.

President Reese often speaks of inspiring learning — learning that changes your life. This was that learning. I had stepped into the real, painful collision of belief, identity and law. I felt pressed to choose sides, but I discovered another way: I could love them both. I could follow Christ.

As a disciple of Christ, I would be my brother’s keeper. Being a journalist helps me do just that. Before I write my article, I close my eyes to pray. These are Your children. Help my writing help them.

If my writing helps people understand one another, I will succeed as a journalist. If it helps them love one another, I will succeed as a disciple. Because of my internship experience, I improved in both journalism and discipleship.