Brace for impact and choose to be doused in icy water on a Thursday evening in North Quad. It isn’t exactly pleasant but it can be fun — your friends laugh, you laugh, the Instagram story gets shared, and for a moment, it feels like you’re part of something. But once the water dries, you wonder: what did this really do? The #SpeakYourMIND Challenge, a mental health awareness campaign launched by the University of South Carolina’s Mental Illness Needs Discussion club, has swept across campuses with a viral energy similar to that which powered the 2014 ALS Ice Bucket Challenge. The format is familiar: pour water, post a video, nominate others, spread the word. The cause is genuine, raising support for Active Minds, a nonprofit focused on mental health for youth and young adults. 

For every person who feels seen, there is at least one who doesn’t. For every joyful clip, there’s a quiet absence — someone watching a steady stream of laughter that seems distant and disconnected from their reality. This individual is usually part of the larger majority struggling with mental health and social isolation, the very community this challenge seeks to uplift.

Depression, anxiety, loneliness are often accompanied by social withdrawal, and it is not uncommon to experience an urge to pull away from others. Hence, it is less likely for people who are going through a hard time to participate in such challenges, and even less likely that they’ll feel seen or invited in. And that’s the crux of the problem: when inclusion is mediated by social capital, those who need visibility most are least likely to receive it.

“With these challenges it is hard to include everyone and make everyone feel included,” College first-year Lorena Chavez said. “Especially because you usually have just three nominations and it just goes around in your friend groups, … it does have the opposite effect than it was trying to have.”

Undeniably, involving people with large platforms helps campaigns gain traction. But when awareness itself is a primary objective, the campaign risks collapsing into an echo chamber. Particularly on college campuses, its reach becomes circular; well-meaning, well-connected students affirming what they already believe, to audiences that already agree.

“I realized it’s like this chain of popular kids being nominated from my school and high school,” College first-year Nishal Vijaykumar said. “When I was personally doing the challenge, I tried to nominate people who I think wouldn’t be nominated, to make sure that they don’t feel left alone. And I think that’s definitely something that people don’t talk about.”

That small act of awareness is powerful. But it also sheds light on something more fundamental: the structure of this challenge doesn’t naturally accommodate the very people it’s meant to uplift.

When the challenge was making its rounds in my social circle, I didn’t immediately pause to consider any deeper implications. I was simply giddy — excited to dunk friends in water and hope that something so outwardly fun and positive might have layers worth unpacking. It’s true that simply participating in a larger movement can feel joyful.

There’s no shame in that joy; in fact, joy can be a form of resistance. But when awareness becomes a spectacle, it risks becoming superficial. The mission blurs. Instead of inviting deeper engagement, the challenge may inadvertently facilitate disengagement as a form of moral licensing, where the act of doing something small, like posting a video, reduces the perceived need to do something bigger such as donating, volunteering, or advocating.

And still — the challenge works, in part — it sparks a conversation. But is that enough?

“Typically if you’re on social media, you probably are already aware of what mental health is,” First-year Rachel Diaz-Sanz said. “And I think that this is kind of redundant in that sense, in the sense that I feel like awareness is one thing, but it’s the first step. It’s like the zero-th step in the process.”

The challenge has also raised $407,077 as of May 1, 2025. That is commendable and it matters. But there is so much more to be done.

Conversations need to move beyond like-minded circles, and while fundraising is important, it should not come at the expense of a structure that further isolates people experiencing social isolation, who may be struggling with mental health.

Real advocacy involves focused outreach to people who aren’t already part of the conversation. It means asking why so many students feel disconnected in the first place. It means moving beyond “awareness” — the starting line — and toward accountability, care, and systemic change.

It also means confronting uncomfortable realities. A campaign model that worked well for ALS may not be the best for mental health, and the visible flaws may be a result of reusing the previous structure. It also raises concerns about potentially overshadowing the initial campaign.

“I don’t think it’s necessarily positive for someone’s mental health to have the turnaround time to do [the challenge],” College third-year Selena Frantz said. “It kind of takes something that was originally meant for ALS … maybe it could have been something a little bit different and maybe that that would’ve been a little better.”

But here’s the hopeful part: we collectively get to choose where this goes.

The #SpeakYourMIND Challenge doesn’t have to end as a fleeting trend. It could become a turning point, if we’re willing to reimagine what it could be. What if people rethought nominations, reaching out to those who may appreciate it more? What if we initiated conversations with people from different demographics, willing to have the difficult conversations? What if we seized the present moment as the ideal window to volunteer and educate, not just participate?

The right energy has been built up. We have an opportunity to match visibility with depth, awareness with action, and inclusion with intentionality. And once you finish toweling off, you get to decide how to make this a sustained effort.