Silent Voices

Recently, I was sent an email asking to partake in a Christian religious group meeting whose name I will leave anonymous. It was a group I had been a part of and had decided to move on from because it was full of those who, I believe, hold belief in the inerrancy of the Bible – a view I strongly disagree with. Yet the email captivated me. The sender suggested looking at Psalm 142 before their next meeting – a meeting I felt drawn to.

I instantly wanted to know what Psalm 142 said and found all four Bibles I own. Only one of which I paid for as it was a text for a class I took.  I received the other three from church groups I have gone to – one from each group. Interestingly all four Bibles are different translations.  I love to read different translations to get a feel for a passage or verse. So I read and read and read again. I held them next to each other. I looked at the footnotes and extra information. I compared words and phrases – glanced at the psalm before and after.  Looking, searching for the most complete view of the passage – a view which invariably changes with the reader’s interaction with the text.

The whole Psalm is about finding refuge from life’s difficulties especially when we feel like no one is there to help. It is about speaking of your troubles and finding security in/from God.  (What we might call within feminist and queer studies the politics of location, belonging, and home.)

In the versions I read, two of them started with the words “with my voice” repeating the phrase in the second line. Those three little words “with my voice” made me think about the importance of voice and being heard or more importantly speaking up. It also made me question:  Who has a voice? Whose voice gets heard? Who is allowed to speak and who must remain silent?

All my life (my almost quarter of a century) I have struggled with this “speaking up being heard using my voice” concept. As a child, I routinely hid behind my mother’s legs and made her do my speaking for me. When I was forced – sometimes literally pushed to interact with people – my voice barely made it above the sound of a whisper. I only said what was necessary, no more. This may be surprising considering I am speaking to you now – telling you personal details, using my voice but even today it is something I struggle with.

So it is not surprising that these three words “with my voice” also made me think of silence and how we use silence sometimes to avoid conflict, or to protect ourselves while at the same time some people fear silence (those awkward pauses on a first date or large groups that remain silent for any length of time).

Somehow, I have believed that my silences would protect me – shield me, guard me – and my heart. Though - I’m not sure what from.

In the United States “we have a right to remain silent”  because “anything we say can and will be used against us in a court of law.” It seems this law is set up to protect us and that protection comes in the form of silence. But aren’t your rights taken away by the very silencing it enacts or by giving us this right to remain silent are we not stripped of our right to speak without persecution. (“If I remain silent then I won’t have to deal with your homophobia.”  “I won’t come out yet. I will keep quiet and let my silence protect me.” “I won’t correct your statement of “roommate” and “friend” because as long as I remain silent about who I am - I am safe – safe from your judgment”)

Audre Lorde has said on “The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action,” “my silence had not protected me. Your silence will not protect you.”  But my silence has always been my refuge. My silence was my way of avoiding life’s difficulties. My silence was my security. How could that not protect me? 

Question: When people refuse to answer a question and say “no comment” does their silence really protect them? Or does this ‘silent protection’ create a space where speaking is cautioned because what they say will somehow come back to bite them in the butt?

Answer: I don’t know. What I do know is that here in Psalm 142 at the very beginning we are told to use our voice. So I ask you to consider for a moment, “What have you done with your voice lately?”  where have you been talking … what have you been saying…

I asked myself the same thing… What have I used my voice for lately?

My list was insightful to say the least. I’ve been complaining … about my family, my friends, my now exgirlfriend, my incredibly small paycheck, students that were making my life difficult, my professors that ask more and more of me – professors that want me to speak up more – talk more – say brilliant things – participate more because I have not been using my voice.  But I have been using my voice I say … to talk about myself. I’ve been voicing my complaints. Also, I have been using my voice to speak of the injustices I see and to complain about the state of the world. I have been using my voice to give lectures and teach about systems of oppression, LGBTQ rights, popular culture, art, activism and deconstructing Disney - things that being a graduate teaching assistant have given me the opportunity and responsibility of teaching to others. A weight I have come to really enjoy despite its stress.

I ask you what you have done with your voice because Psalm 142 starts with your voice. Not with someone else’s voice but your own voice. There is great power in voice and the ability to use your own voice to define yourself - to speak your truth. Agency is something that has often been denied to those outside the dominant group holding power.  Women have a particularly hard time with this where we receive messages about when and if we should speak. We are more likely to defer to someone else, to use more fillers and to ask for confirmation while speaking. Right? Not to mention the voices of other oppressed societal groups that often go unheard whether they are speaking or not. Currently with LGBTQ rights, I see people using their voices trying to assert their agency in defining their families, looking for their refuge but being denied. As a member of that community, it pains me to know that I am denied agency when my voice goes unheard, a silence that does not protect me.  

“With my voice” also makes me think of the privilege one has in being able to use their own voice to “cry out” or “pour out complaints” or “tell trouble.”  And it makes me think of all those individuals who do not have the privilege of their voice being heard within society simply because they do not belong to the dominant group. It seems to me this Psalm asks, begs, demands, us to use our voice to speak, to cry out, and tell of the complaints and troubles we face so we can find refuge. Yet, is it not also asking those whose voices do get heard to speak or complain about those whose voices are routinely denied because of their identity within our society - those whom "no one takes notice of" whom no one seems to care for? (Not to use our voice to speak for them but to ask for their voices to be heard so they too can find refuge in their agency.)  When you “cry out,” “pour out complaints,” or “tell trouble” to God are you only speaking of your own personal difficulties or are you using your voice to make supplication for those who do not speak because they have been taught to remain silent?

Silence is easy – using your voice – now that takes courage.

Find your voice - use your voice because “with your voice” you can change the world.