Young people are often told they can change the world, but Axida Boerzhijin wants to know who that promise is actually true for. A student from North Carolina with a passion for public policy and advocacy, she has built her interests around helping people empower themselves. In her winning creative piece, “The Asterisk,” she gave that question a striking image: the small mark that haunts every youth empowerment statement.

Her views on youth voice are grounded in her own background and identity. She grew up in China but is ethnically Mongolian, and she moved to the United States right as the pandemic began, an experience she says shaped how she feels about youth voice. Today she is involved in several civic organizations and efforts, and her goal is to make change for those who cannot.

She hopes to pursue that goal at the intersection of public health, law, and policy, while staying close to her love of science and writing. Writing, for her, is a way of “trying to put thoughts into words,” inspiring people, and telling her story to show that change is possible for many people.

Her greatest influence is her mother, who pursued a career in public policy in China and could no longer do so after the family moved. Watching her mother adapt has taught Axida that “you can make do with what you have,” a quiet kind of bravery she hopes to practice herself.

That bravery has shown up in her own life. This summer, Axida won second place at the TSA national conference in a media production event, in which participants write and record a news piece. The event let her practice public speaking and communicating ideas to an audience, but what she values most is what it taught her about fear. The fear of being judged can feel much greater than the scrutiny she actually faces. Rather than waiting for that fear to disappear, she learned to focus on taking the first step and building confidence through experience.

At the center of Axida’s thinking is a gap between what young people are told and what they experience. Teenagers, she says, often feel a “cynicism and disillusionment” about their power. As children, they are told they can change the world, but that sense of empowerment fades as they grow up. Her response is to lower the bar for what change has to look like. “You don’t always have to be 100% confident to make a change,” she says. “It can be as simple as just joining a club.” Change, she emphasizes, “doesn’t have to be grand,” and it can empower others along the way.

Her own life has taught her the value of simply starting. Growing up, she had many doubts, especially after moving to a new country during a time when hope was hard to find. Her most important life lesson is to “just do it,” beginning with something small, like volunteering. She acknowledges that fear has held her back before, but believes that waiting for it to disappear can prevent people from pursuing what matters to them. “I know it’s hard to get over that fear,” she says, “but I think it’s important to take the first step anyway.”

But Axida is careful not to pretend that the first step is equally easy for everyone. She chose the asterisk as her central image because it captured something missing from the way young people are told they can change the world, especially in the United States. An asterisk signals that there is something more to the statement: the circumstances that determine whether someone is actually heard, including where they were born, what language they speak, their identity, and how much power they are given at birth.

Even so, she does not want the asterisk to be read as a pessimistic message. Rather than dismissing the possibility of youth-driven change, her piece asks readers to confront the unequal circumstances that shape it. “It’s just forcing us to be more honest about these situations, and recognize that nothing is granted and nothing is guaranteed.”

Axida has noticed that many Americans are raised to simply speak up. She finds that ease “admirable in its own way,” but believes the best approach pairs that boldness with nuance. Her childhood abroad taught her the opposite lesson. There, she says, “it’s all about conformity” and being as quiet as possible, which is why the protests over the Mongolian script stood out to her as so rare and so inspiring. Coming to the United States, she was surprised by how readily people protest, even over issues she thought wouldn’t matter. Now she sees even those protests as “just another way of getting your voice out and eventually creating change.”

What ties these ideas together, for Axida, is a simple principle: speak up even when you don’t feel ready. If the asterisk names the problem, that principle is her answer, and she practices it in small ways every day rather than through grand gestures. She once avoided speaking up and limited her social interactions, but she has learned that confidence is not a requirement. For her, speaking up can begin with recognizing that something deserves to be addressed. “It’s not that I’m confident I can change things,” she explains. “It’s that I don’t accept the status quo, and that gives me a reason to act.”

Her belief in speaking up extends to why young voices matter in the first place. They are a new generation entering society, with views that are “unique in their own way.” Adults and young people understand things differently, she says, and a healthy society draws from all age groups.

Her advice for any young person who feels the asterisk applies to them reflects that balance of honesty and action. You cannot be fully passive, she says, but you also don’t need certainty. “You don’t need to know whether your actions will make a difference; you just need to care enough to take the first step.” She urges young people not to get stuck in the cynicism of the current political moment. “You don’t have to know where it’ll lead or what you’ll accomplish,” she says. “You just have to be willing to begin.” It starts with one person willing to take that first step.

The asterisk, as Axida sees it, is not a reason to stay quiet. It is a reason to speak with open eyes, knowing the odds are unequal and nothing is guaranteed, and to speak anyway.

See her category-winning submission here.