Unmute

Who taught you how to stifle your truth? Was it when you were silenced in class by the teacher for being too talkative? Did you pretend you didn’t know something even when you were certain of the answer, instead remaining quiet because girls were likened to boys, or worse, were told they wouldn’t attract boys if too knowledgeable? Or maybe it was that time your father got harassed by police in front of you and he chose life through staying silent and taking it to avoid imprisonment or death. Did your mom maybe tell you to keep family’s business in the family and cause you to fear the consequence of disclosing painful details of the events that transpired the night before to a trusted friend or mentor? When did you lose your voice? Did you ever have it? More importantly, have you recovered it? 

Too many of us were brought up in situations where we had to stifle ourselves and what’s important to us because the world couldn’t or wouldn’t handle it with care and integrity. Whether I wanted to share my fears or something joyful, I often shrank myself so that others felt strong and seen or so I could guarantee my safety. This occurred with peers and adults alike and the only way I could regain my power for a long time was through the same violence enacted upon me. It wasn’t always reciprocal because I would occasionally flex on someone who was a lesser transgessor or completely not responsible for my pain, but who nevertheless didn’t see my fury coming. Silencing others is a show of force and a violent imposition. A fiery one since birth, I opted for physical violence until I learned how to masterfully chop people down verbally. Whatever seemed most effective at the time where I felt like a winner was my abusive strategy. Where I felt strong. Unfortunately I hurt a number of people and myself in the process. For years I did not understand how this volatile reactionary behavior stemmed from being silenced or made to devalue my opinion and voice. I’ve been blessed to develop my empathy, self awareness and to make amends to heal important relationships and myself, but one casualty of this early muzzling has remained: self-doubt. 

Contrary to how I’m publicly perceived, I am not a walking ball of confidence and strength. Often I fear failing and not being good enough. Being shut down by adults at critical moments in my development contributed to this low self esteem though in significant ways I’ve persevered and done well for myself. I can impress and connect with almost anyone and when I hone my craft, I’m on. But those sinking nights and doubtful days are regular occurrences. They scream, “why try?” or “who’s gonna notice?”, and “you don’t matter”. Being pitted against other girls/women, especially against women of color, by capitalism, all types of men and white women in a world that already discounts my skin color, name, history, sexuality and gender means always being speculative about whether I count at all. Also being hushed too often and spoken over when making points, or worse, being ridiculed for the simplest idiosyncrasies can do a number on the ego–the part that is needed for ambition, accomplishment and resilience. 

While it can seem hopeless and pointless, what’s been useful for my spirit is to share the hurt, the trepidation and the questions with trusted others. Having a therapist, life coach, a few dependable colleagues, mentors, chosen family and friends has done wonders for my ability to push through and accomplish feats in my adult life that I couldn’t even imagine as a kid. Putting my best into myself and the world despite the imposter syndrome that creeps up also enables me to remember how bad ass I actually am, that my contributions are worthwhile, and how I’ve got people rooting for me. We are not worthless, bad people, basic, or unloved. We have purpose, gifts to contribute and we matter. We are loved. We have created beauty and excellence and will continue to do so. Our mere presence is proof enough as to why we’re needed. These are some of my affirmations on hard mornings. But when you can’t do this for yourself, be sure not to isolate. Ask for help even if afraid. Tell someone you trust and let them guide you back to yourself. No one is perfect, we all go through hardships, and instead of silos we need community to balance us. I sure do, especially now when everything appears to be in flux. So where once I felt alone, I am now powerful in connection. Where I once was silenced and told or shown to shut up, the world now waits with bated breath for my tone, wisdom and experience. I am now the nurturing bellow of the shushed little girl. Through my values and resistance I am the megaphone. Not to oversimplify this necessary trauma recovery of being silenced, I am aware that there are myriad ways to recapture your voice so that fear, loneliness and stagnation don’t minimize or kill you. It will take many of us a lifetime to heal, rediscover and raise our voices as a prequisite for and consequence of our survival. By letting my people in when life hurts the most I am able to reconnect to myself and achieve a smidgen more of freedom and acceptance. We are mighty and it’s therapeutic to be reminded. So speak up, warriors.