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Forward, Not Back: My Pathway to Rhetorical Citizenship I came to college like most kids come to collegescared stupid, but with a smile on my face and hands wringing with possibility. I had absolutely no idea what I wanted to do with my life, except that I wanted to do something, anything, that would end up worthwhile. I started by joining the first student group that harassed me enough to warrant my attention, the College Democrats at UCF, and being a part of that organization has opened my eyes to all of the different ways I can get involved in my community. In my Rhetoric and Civic Engagement class, however, I learned what it means to be involved in my community. I have learned the significance of rhetorical citizenship and can underline the difference between simply showing up to events and being an active participant. Because of this, I feel a little more grounded. I came to college knowing nothing, and I might leave college only knowing a little, but I have a better understanding of the kind of person that I am, and what I want to do with my life. The power of rhetorical citizenship is reflected within the words themselves: "rhetoric" and "citizen" are incredibly loaded words, with thousands of opposing definitions that will most likely never be reconciled. With "rhetoric," you have one of the most intense battles of morality that has ever existed in the study of language. Isocrates, renowned defender of rhetoric, defined it as "the ability to think, reason and to act" (203). To Isocrates, to teach rhetoric was to equip youth with a tool that could be used to dismantle any faulty logic and passionately fight for what they believe in. On the other side of the coin, there was Plato, philosopher and student of Socrates, who considered rhetoric to be a "false art" and a "dangerous form of manipulation." He worried that

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rhetoric was simply a slew of fancy words being used to gloss over an argument with no logical basis, and fought valiantly against its teaching amongst Athenian youth (Palczewski et al. 11). The textbook Rhetoric in Civic Life offers a healthy combination of these two ideas: in history, there are those who utilized rhetoric for the common good (for example, Winston Churchill). And then, of course, there are those who utilized rhetoric to call for genocidal obliteration (see: Adolf Hitler). The book defines rhetoric as "the use of symbolic action by human beings to share ideas, enabling them to work together to make decisions about matters of common concern and to construct social reality." This is a fair definition, lacking any implications of morality or immorality (5). Rhetoric, by itself, allows us to communicate goals and work together. Whether those goals are world peace or genocide is matter of concern best left to the people. In my experience, rhetoric proves to be useful in all aspects of life, whether it be persuading my parents to let me leave the house for college or collecting a petition for environmental regulation. It is at once the ability to hone an argument and the ability to deconstruct one. It is, most importantly, the ability to reach out to people and find common goals. It is also the ability to reach those goals. What it means to be a "citizen" is another battle on its ownis it a legal term, or a state of being? Are you a citizen because a document tells you that you are, or are you a citizen because you helped a child cross the street? It seems to be that scholars are beginning to move away from "citizenship" as a purely legal term: political theorist Shklar defines it as "active participation," whereas legal scholar Linda Bosniak likens it to an "experience of identity," where people involve themselves in public life due to shared cultures (Wan 34). Being in college has taught me that these perceptions go hand in hand: my citizenship is

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strengthened by the culture I have immersed myself in, and leads me to be more participative in my daily life. Being surrounded by College Democrats, by students who share my ideals, by students who will stand up and fight for those with no fight left in them, leaves me in a place where there is no other option but for me to care, to take action. I was born and raised a citizen of the United States, but I did not learn citizenship until I was thrust into a movement more powerful than papers. And so, when we put these two words together, we have "rhetorical citizenship." A powerful phrase with weighted imagery, Isocrates defended rhetorical citizenship as the most ideal form of participation. Sam Leith, author of Words Like Loaded Pistols, wrote that "knowledge of rhetoric equips you, as a citizen, both to exercise power and resist it" (15). In our class, we discussed obscure ways of being a rhetorical citizen, including the simplicity of occupying a space and the alarmingly difficult practice of rhetorical listening. There are several different ways to practice rhetorical citizenship, and many more ways to dissect the phrase, but there's one definition, constructed from my own experiences, that I keep close. The definition slowly came together for me during my work with Project Bithlo. When it was time to initiate a service project for my Rhetoric and Civic Engagement class, I knew immediately that Project Bithlo would be perfect. It wasn't until completion of the assignment, however, that I could pinpoint exactly why. It not only got a classroom to get out and volunteer, but it also allowed me to carve out my own definition of what it means to be a rhetorical citizen. Project Bithlo, a non-partisan initiative set forth by the College Democrats at UCF, is a student-led mission to support the nonprofit work of United Global Outreach to transform the community of Bithlo, a town just a few miles east of the University of Central Florida. A once

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prosperous and beautiful town, it was hit incredibly hard by the Great Depression and the government has since turned its back on the community. Without clean water, effective transportation and nearby grocery stores, the citizens of Bithlo have essentially been left to rot. So far, the efforts of Project Bithlo include sending out volunteers to tutor at a private school for children, raising money for new building developments and facilitating landscaping projects in order to beatify Bithlo. Because I was involved in the organization before I enrolled in Rhetoric and Civic Engagement, I took on the role as the "point person" for Project Bithlo in my class: I shared all updates, upcoming events and made sure all volunteers knew what they were getting into before they started tutoring. I provided meeting locations, opportunities for getting more involved and directed everyone to where they needed to go. I made sure that no matter what I was doing for this assignment, I was giving my all. My original intent in bringing Project Bithlo to class was to, in typical college-activistspeak, help the "less fortunate." But while I sought involvement with Bithlo in an effort to instill hope and change within their community, I learned, very quickly, "their" community must be my community in order to actually make a dent. Instead of simply going to tutor for the allotted two hour shift, I stayed a little longer to play with the kids. I further entangled myself with Bithlo 's affairs, I made conversations with the citizens, and I no longer did the bare minimum to feel good about myself. My experiences with Bithloat once emotionally draining and ridiculously motivationalare the experiences that have shaped my definition of rhetorical citizenship. Rhetorical citizenship, as I have come to define it, is the act of immersing yourself in your community and using communication to listen to and express common causes and achieve goals. In Bithlo, rhetorical citizenship was as much about physically showing up to plant trees and pull up weeds as it was about writing press releases regarding days of action in the

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community. It was as much about sitting down and listening to a child talk about his or her day as it was about updating Project Bithlo's facebook page with photos and anecdotes. All of these actions were symbolic in that they represented a greater cause and contributed to building a strong sense of community. Every definition of rhetorical citizenship that I have read has proved to be correct, from Leith's vision of power to Isocrates' notion of participation, and every definition works together to build the silhouette of the rhetorical citizen. However, the most important understanding I've taken from my class project is that rhetorical citizenship is an ongoing practice, and being a rhetorical citizen is not a costume you can put on for a day and then take off when it best suits you. You have a responsibility to continue engaging your community and applying the knowledge you've gathered through experience to shaping your surroundings. "Immersing" is the buzz word in my personal definition. You have to put yourself in the middle of it all, and most importantly, you have to involve yourself in the goals you're trying to achieve for your community. Using your experiences, your words, and your involvement to spark change is what makes you a rhetorical citizen. This is what separates the rhetorical citizen from the rhetorical vacationer, and this is why I have stuck by Bithlo in the manner that I have and why I championed Project Bithlo to be the service initiative our class took on. My initial reason for volunteering at Bithlo was to give back to a charitable cause. But to refine my rhetorical citizenship, according to my own definition, meant I had to stop looking at the people of Bithlo as charity cases and start looking at them as people who need help in the same way that I've needed help, that my friends have needed help, and that everyone that has ever existed, has needed help. It is Matthieu who stated "Public audiences are often difficult to move; clear measures of success or completion are difficult to find" (Mattheiu 31). And to me,

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that has never rung more truly than in the case of Bithlo, where my press releases don't mean anything to its constituents, where my volunteerism does not mean clean water and my tutoring does not always mean a child will be prepared for the test. But effectiveness and clear, outlined results are not what makes me a rhetorical citizen. It is my tenacity and my willingness to stay in Bithlo and fight for transformation. It is the way that I have immersed myself in the community, it is the way that I sat down and listened to what Bithlo needs, instead of mapping out my own plan for a community I originally had no hope of understanding. By being in Bithlo and committing myself to volunteering there, I got started on my symbolic pathway to rhetorical citizenship. I wanted to reach out to them, to make a difference in their community. It was not until I began to see that I was not an outsider of their community, a white knight swooping in to solve all of their problems, that I became a true rhetorical citizen. I used my ears, my words and my actions to find common ground with myself and those who live in Bithlo, and with this in mind, I can now stand in solidarity with the community of Bithlo to begin transformation.

Works Cited Isocrates. Isocrates I. Trans. David C. Mirhady and Yun Lee Too. Austin: U of Texas P, 2000. (excerpt)

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Leith, Sam. Words Like Loaded Pistols: Rhetoric from Aristotle to Obama. New York: Basic Books, 2012. Print. (excerpt) Mathieu, Paula. Tactics of Hope: The Public Turn in English Composition. Portsmouth, NH: Boynton/Cook, 2005. (excerpt) Palczewski, Catherine Helen, Richard Ice, and John Fritch. "Rhetors." Rhetoric in Civic Life. 1st. Strata Publishing, Inc., 2012. 149-175. Print. Wan, Amy J. In the Name of Citizenship: The Writing Classroom and the Promise of Citizenship. College English 74.1 (2011): 28-49.