Finding my voice

Speaking up and sharing my thoughts and beliefs has become more challenging as I’ve gotten older. The fear of being judged, criticized and ostracized have taken over my natural inclination to speak my mind. Especially in the current political climate, compounded with social media cruelty, it’s enough to make me want to curl up into a ball.

When I was a child, my tongue was fast and loose with no cares in the world. Nothing held me back from blurting out my opinion, forcefully at that. I was strong-willed from the womb and had a very strong sense of making sure justice was served. I would often exclaim “that’s not fair!” to my mother, usually when my brothers were receiving some sort of perceived special treatment.

As I matured into a young adult, I felt it a badge of honor to speak up for what I believed in and for those around me, especially when they weren’t brave enough to stand up for themselves. This sense of justice and honor culminated in my senior year of college.

In one of my classes, the professor insisted on having discussions each class with no lectures or educational focus. He would begin with a broad topic and let the class go. The problem with this approach was that one person used the class as her own personal soap box. She was very vocal and opinionated, unwelcoming other points of view. This went on for several classes before my classmates and I started to commiserate. We weren’t learning anything and it felt like a giant waste of time. I suggested we all speak up at the next class and ask if we could mix up the class format, or at the very least have some mediation so others could have a chance to speak. A untied front! Everyone agreed on this plan of action.

I couldn't believe no one was willing to speak up after I went out on a limb for all of us.

In the next class, as we started to veer off into the personal diatribe performed by our classmate, I politely interrupted and asked the professor if we could have a more inclusive conversation or allow for other points of view to be heard. The professor began to press me as to what my issue was. I said unfortunately we didn’t feel like we were learning anything by listening to one person monopolize the conversation. I mentioned we had discussed this as a class and everyone felt this way. He turned to the rest of the class and asked if that’s how they felt as well. Everyone was silent. I looked around the room dumbfounded, pleading with my eyes for someone to say something. He said it sounded like I was the only one who had a problem and would appreciate it if I didn’t disrupt the class any further.

I remember my face was beet red. I felt hot, literally and figuratively. I couldn’t believe no one was willing to speak up after I went out on a limb for all of us. All I could think to do was to gather up my belongings and storm out of the class. I felt utterly betrayed.

My well-intentioned request for a change in class format actually got me in a bit of trouble. I was called to the Head of the Communications Department’s office. I should also mention I was the President of the Communications Honor Society at the time. I will never forget the way Dr. B looked at me and said, “You know, as president of the honor society I really can’t have you walking out of classes like that.” He got it though. He validated my frustration and opinions about the lackluster class, while at the same time driving home that this was a teachable moment for me. Life wasn’t always peachy. There were going to be many things I wasn’t going to agree with, but I had to learn how to deal with them.

I think at that point I started to realize it wasn’t always best to speak up. Especially for other people, who will likely hang me out to dry. I’ve been on a continuum of sorts in terms of my outspoken disposition. Up until this point I was sitting on one end of the continuum in Speak Up City. But now I was moving in the other direction, toward Quiet Town.

Time passed and I got my first real, professional job. I instinctively became friends with my coworkers. I shared personal anecdotes with them, only to later have it thrown back in my face and held against me. I continued moving toward Quiet Town on the continuum.

As more years went by, I realized I share very different beliefs from those around me. I got in a few disagreements with close family, then later realized I was on an island and everyone was talking about me. They viewed me as mindless and disillusioned. So I moved farther toward Quiet Town on the continuum.

Today I will put myself out there, for better or worse, and take the criticism and scrutiny because I cannot stay silent any longer.

Finally, I reached the other end of the continuum and stopped speaking up altogether. My learned defense mechanism became staying quiet and keeping to myself. I typically never let people know where I stand on a topic. In conversations, especially with coworkers, I keep it light, feign interest, or remove myself from the situation when I can.

But now things are different. I’ve reached a tipping point. I can no longer keep to myself. I see too much hate, discrimination and pain to stay silent. We’re in very dangerous territory where women’s rights are being threatened. I’m tired of being scared and worried about being judged. Today I will put it myself out there, for better or worse, and take the criticism and scrutiny because I cannot stay silent any longer.

This venture – Contemplative Mama – is so much more than a website and blog. It’s me taking a stand and fulfilling what I’ve been set on this earth to do. I have so much to say and so much to share. I know I can help people with my words, and that’s what I’ve set out to do.