“In a voiced community, we all flourish.”
I’ve been reflecting on this gem of wisdom penned by Terry Tempest Williams in her latest book, “When Women Were Birds: Fifty-four Variations on Voice.”
“Each day I begin with the empty page,” this writer-activist concludes, keeping mystery, paradox, imagination, and a listening ear close by.
Women, in particular, can suffer maladies of heart, mind and body (and some, rather serious) because they feel/have felt mocked, maligned or silenced for their unique viewpoints and proclivities.
Some of this “baggage” is imposed upon us by those who pupport to love and care for us; at the same time, those of us victimized have (sometimes) clung feverishly to our “wounds,” well-worn and comfortable, yet long outgrown.
What does it mean to have a voice TODAY?
The answer could be as different today as from yesterday.
Last week for me, it meant writing and then recording this commentary for Vermont Public Radio.
It felt necessary to articulate my angst and sadness at the limitations placed on women (solely due to gender) in the church I call home.
Through this process of criticizing something I love so dearly, I winced and struggled and oscillated, but in the end I could rest with a peace and contentment that my unvarnished truth had been spoken–and in a respectful manner.
And so it goes … for the incarcerated women I will meet around the circle this evening who voice themselves into being week-to-week … and for all of us, who write and speak and act through the fear and trepidation. Our communities really do flourish and bloom when our individual voices sound.