Voice

Voice 

   Sometimes my thoughts about a subject may originally preface as feeling abstract or jumbled around. Sitting down to ponder it, talking with others for reference and perspective, and then creating art or writing it out is a way to both sort out what I'm feeling and also to share my thoughts. This process often takes time, but once done, is a release for me. It's a means of sharing my heart, of being open and honest, and when it comes to many matters, a way for me to express what I want to see for the world around me.

   While some may prefer not to share their views of such things publicly, they do so for their own reasons. I share in order to inspire others, to find others of like-minds, and to learn from those who don't agree. I feel most comfortable when I can be open and it's when I feel my most genuine. It wouldn't even matter so much if many people read it, but the process alone of putting my thoughts onto paper and putting it out into the world means something to me. It means bravery. It means authenticity. It means sharing my story. It means using my voice.

   Most often, these blogs, essays, or speeches are met with a sort of understanding. When I used to write openly about my personal fight of being a codependent, people would contact me telling me I had inspired them to take on their own battle. While this felt rewarding and inspired me more, it also made me feel "normal," like the things I was writing about affected far more people than just myself. It made me feel like what I was writing mattered and not just for me, but possibly to other people too. I saw that the more I wrote, and not just the funny candor, but about the real aching, deepest kinds of pain I could feel, the more people would open up to me in return. I learned through writing that when I was at my most vulnerable and a story-teller of my most nitty gritty of real life truthfulness, that I was then on a path of my own self-growth.

   With praise and understanding, there were also those that expressed disagreement. Most times, this has been done with respect, yet sometimes without. What I've learned about disagreement is that disagreement is okay. It's unrealistic for everyone to agree on any one subject. A group of 100 could stand around a fenced yard and someone could proclaim, "The grass is green!" Many might agree, but a few might shake their heads back and forth and point out that it's actually more of a yellow hue. Another group of people might point out the fact that there are several patches of grass missing and that it is rather muddy, thus making the area an equal amount of brown tones as green. And in listening to each other with respect, in time, the consensus may differ or change and hopefully even improve. Perhaps the new proclamation may even be that the grass is a greenish-yellow hue, but that due to the lack of grass in some areas, a new technique in the yard maintenance would be taking place. In many cases, disagreement brings growth. Healthy debate brings growth. Each detail of both sides can be brought up and examined. New perspective is put on the table. A new story is shared.

   I’ll never forget an important light bulb moment I experienced while in high school English class twenty years ago. I had written a paper about why I thought the foster care system was so great. My reasoning was based from my own personal perspectives of having a foster brother that we’d since adopted. Told by doctors that he’d never walk, never talk, and never eat by mouth, I was proud to share in my essay that with love, he could now do all of those things and more. Put into groups of two by the teacher, I traded papers with the boy across from me and we began reading each other’s words quietly. And as I read his, I felt a cycle of first anger and frustration, then shock, and then a new understanding. His paper was ironically about the foster care system and why it was so awful, based on his own horrific personal story of being a foster child passed around from home to home of abuse. It challenged and opposed everything I’d written about in my own piece, yet we’d both spoken our truths. Neither of us was wrong, yet the descriptions and labels we’d provided for the same system were vastly different. I call it a lightbulb moment because I realized then just how vital perspective could be. We developed a friendship and further exchanged stories with each other, comparing and accepting an entirely new and expanded version of what we’d once thought. 

   I appreciate a difference of opinion. We each have our own story, weaved with separate perceptions, thus sparking different ideas, needs, wants and beliefs. When we allow ourselves to fully open up and listen to someone else’s ideas, we not only help the other person to feel vindicated or to have a release, but we also allow our own minds to grow. In respectful conversation, this can occur for both parties. There are times though when I will personally argue a point after listening. Those are times when I know something to be false with fact-based evidence or if someone’s words hinge on another’s human rights. How we argue is important though if we want to continue being heard. 

   Born in 1980, I can’t help but to be amazed at how far this country has come regarding equal rights. Having lesbian mothers, I grew up understanding what discrimination was. We were to call my mother our “roommate” in public. And Heaven forbid if the ARMY found out. They weren’t allow to marry. They felt uncomfortable holding hands or showing affection in public. To the outsiders, beyond the walls of our home, she was after all, our roommate. When they wanted to foster to adopt, they were advised that they’d have an easier time doing so for a child with special needs. I received death threats for having lesbian mothers. I lost friends and was unable to attend certain sleepovers for fear of turning the other girls gay. I wasn’t gay. Gay isn’t even something that can be “spread.” I wasn’t “contagious.” Yet, the assumptions people made from fear of the unknown became solid fact for them and thus I was judged accordingly. I grew up shy, afraid to speak out, terrified to unveil my authentic self. 

   When I see things like the #metoo movement, or Black Lives Matter, or gay marriage becoming legal and discriminating bakers being held liable and transgender equality slowly transitioning into a more understood and accepted subject, I’m delighted. It means that we’re listening to perspective. We’re growing and expanding. Furthermore, if I hear opposition toward equal human rights, a boastfulness of artificial superiority most often based on color, sex, culture or religion, I share my own story. It might not be listened to or heard, but it means I’ve put my own perspective out there and fulfilled my own responsibilities of exposing myself, thus leading me to a place of personal fulfillment. I’ve learned through experience that using my voice helps me on my own journey toward authenticity. 

   The thing that bothers me most when expressing myself is not actually opposition to the things I share, but rather what I personally refer to as the “shut-down” tactic. It goes a little something like this: “What’s with all these liberals flapping their jaws and doing nothing?” Or... “Wonderful. You’re sharing your opinion. But that’s not really doing anything.” Or even... “What are you actually doing to help because chatting about it is worthless.” I’ve tried to understand some perspective as to where these kinds of words come from, and it’s most often not from a place of genuine nature, but rather that of fear because usually my story or my perspective has challenged what they have always thought to be true. And when we experience that fear, it’s frustrating and so we often initially will strike back instead of attempting to listen, discuss or expand. What these words are attempting to do is to instill a sort of guilt or shame. They’re not meant to inspire, but rather to make us feel as though we aren’t enough, that what we’re doing isn’t enough. I realized something else just yesterday and when it hit me, I had to message a friend of mine right away. “I think people who attempt to instill shame in others are those that feel shame themselves.” They’re not listening. And because listening is equally if not more important as using our voice, then not doing so also inhibits the path to our authenticity. The cycle of it became so clear in front of me. 

   Voices inspire. They empower. They bring us knowledge. They show us what it’s like to walk in someone else’s shoes. They bring about new ideas. Voices are the spark behind movements. They are the creativity behind creations. So to shut them up them would be to stop growth. If using one’s voice and listening would direct us to authenticity and truth, then to muffle them would lead us to a lie. 

   To play devil’s advocate in a further attempt to understand the tactic beyond a shaming standpoint, I’ll compare the value of “thinkers” versus “doers.” What is the value of a “thinker” without a “doer” and that of a “doer” without a “thinker?” Without the thinking, the spark, the creative thought, or the perspective, what is it exactly that the “doers” are “doing?” Because the truth of the matter is that if the “doers” are just “doing” without the process of gathering or expanding, then isn’t their “doing” rather dangerous? So is either good without the other? Is it not obvious that both are needed in this world? And is “thinking” and “using our voice” and “listening” in itself actually another form “doing” as well? In addition, who is to assume that most people aren’t actually both “thinkers” and “doers” anyway? 

   One of my favorite quotes can be found in Dr. Seuss’ Horton Hears a Who. “A person’s a person, no matter how small.” I like to view this quote as though our voices are representative of who we are and that we each collectively matter. When someone attempts to shut us down, or to not validate us, we sometimes become afraid to speak again, but it’s in those moments, in my own personal opinion, that it’s the most crucial to have our voices. 

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“This," cried the Mayor, "is your town's darkest hour!

The time for all Whos who have blood that is red

To come to the aid of their country!" he said.

"We've GOT to make noises in greater amounts!

So, open your mouth, lad! For every voice counts!”

~Dr. Seuss, Horton Hears a Who