The dilemma, she thought, of finally finding her voice was that it was not enough simply to speak. This voice, which had lain dormant in her for so long, lost under unrelenting responsibilities, an overdeveloped superego and the weight of roles such as ‘wife,’ as ‘mother,’ as ‘employee’—rarely ‘woman,’ rarely even ‘human being’- had become voracious.
What she thought was merely a trickle of words, activated by the injustices of the world and the ache it awoke in her heart had grown rapidly into the flow of a kitchen tap. When given some room, it then grew into the steady stream of water from a garden hose and then threatened to explode like water from a fire hydrant or perhaps with the ferocity of a river long damned, obliterating all real and imagined obstacles in its path.
She had not known, had not realized, that all of this lay inside her, coiled with tension, waiting for that small crack that would allow those first tentative words to seep out. She had exposed those first words to air, to light, cautiously, fearfully. Not knowing if anyone would see them, would read them, would connect to them, would understand.
It was thrilling and scary when she realized that her words had an audience outside of her own inner ear. But then that audience, although bigger than any other she had ever had, was not enough. The time she put aside for the words was not enough. Her voice, so long suppressed, demanded more and more. It whispered to her in the middle of the night, it spoke to her on her morning commute, it sang to her in the shower causing her to be late because she had to write these words down before they slipped down the drain, lost forever. The words started to call out when she at work, when she should have been doing other things, begging for acknowledgement.
She did not know what to do with all these words which were now shouting, cajoling, colliding into each other, racing through her brain, spilling onto the screen, written in ink on the margins of paper, on her very skin, always demanding more. Saying over and over again, a mantra that cut through the din “We are your truth. Your truth can no longer be contained. Your voice must be heard.”