AI in any field !!!
i haven’t talked about this yet because it still kind of stings, but i think it’s time i said something.
a few days ago, i participated in an MUN conference. i was the delegate of austria — something i took seriously, something i put so much effort into. the conference lasted from 8am to 6pm, and i showed up for every minute of it. i researched, wrote, prepared. when it came time to speak, i spoke like i meant it. because i did.
out of forty delegates, it came down to me and another boy, the delegate of spain. we debated for the last two hours while everyone else watched. and i mean this sincerely — he was amazing. we were both exhausted, but we kept going. i thought, no matter who wins, we earned this.
then it came time to submit our resolution papers. mine was over 7,000 words. i had written every single word myself. no shortcuts. no AI. just hours of reading, thinking, writing, refining — giving it everything.
but then the chairs announced that only papers that passed the AI detection checks would be considered for awards. and mine didn’t pass.
they didn’t pull me aside quietly. they didn’t ask if there had been a mistake. they announced it. out loud. in front of everyone. they said my paper was AI generated.
and it wasn’t.
and in that moment, it didn’t matter how much effort i had poured in. it didn’t matter how long i had researched or how well i had debated. it didn’t even matter that my voice had held up for ten straight hours in front of a room full of peers and mentors; because some algorithm—some faceless, soulless, fuckass machine—decided that my work didn’t sound “human enough.”
i cannot explain what it feels like to pour yourself into something and then be told — publicly — that it isn’t yours. that it couldn’t be.
and maybe they didn’t mean to humiliate me. maybe they were just doing their job. but i still had to sit there, in that room full of people, while everything i worked for was dismissed by a program that doesn’t know my voice. doesn’t know my effort. doesn’t know anything at all.
i didn’t stay for the ceremony. i couldn’t. i had my dad come pick me up early.
and i cried. not because i didn’t win but because i wasn’t believed. because my work, which i created with nothing but my hands, my brain, and my heart, was labeled a lie by a machine that has never written a thing worth crying over.
and i’m not angry at the boy who won. bless his heart—he got my number and actually called me to tell me i did amazing. and i believe him. he meant it. i’m not angry at the chairs either. they were just following the rules they were given.
but i am angry.
i’m angry at what this world is becoming. angry that we’ve let things get to the point where we have to prove we’re real.
angry that the people who use AI to cut corners, to plagiarize, to cheat—those people made it harder for those of us who actually care. who still believe in the slow work. the honest work. the work that makes your bones ache and your eyes blur from how long you’ve stared at the page.
i was accused of using a machine. but the accuser was a machine too.
and that, to me, is terrifying. it’s terrifying that we’re letting something this mechanical, this blind, decide who gets to be believed. who gets to be heard. who gets to be proud of the work they’ve done.
i’m still proud. because i know what i wrote. i know how hard i worked. i know what i gave. but it hurts. it really, really hurts to not be believed.
i think what hurts most is knowing this is only the beginning. that students and writers and artists are already being treated like suspects in the one place they’re supposed to be seen.
so let it be known: i was not silent. i was erased. and i will not forget that.
