It was as if the performers (especially the poets) used the cords of their hearts as pens with blood ink. Some of them quickly flung out their words, a few deadened the tone of their voices to lessen the emotional vulnerability of their pieces. But most of them lifted their chins and rooted their feet in the ground, as if to say “This is who I am; this is what I feel.” It was great.

The types of responses I heard from people after the Open Mic made me glad that this was a required event for our seminar class (and other seminar classes) to go to. If you’re not used to honest, deeply felt writing, you can feel shocked, even repulsed by it. Too vulnerable, too depressing. But as people become more and more exposed to such writing and performance, the beauty of it becomes more apparent and its execution more comfortable, therapeutic, even.