VOICE

I sat cross-legged on my unmade bed, staring hopelessly at the cursor. Blinking, blinking, blinking, as it waited for me to fill in the blanks. I hoped it would do that on its own. I pulled at the drawstrings until my hood squished my face. Why did I agree to write this speech? Of course, I knew why. It was an unreal opportunity, something I wanted to do yet, I felt dejected. All of the ideas and motivation I had for the speech were erased from my mind. “AUGH” I screamed to my empty room and empty brain. I basked in the blue light of my computer screen and frustratingly sighed as I began to type a sentence introducing myself.

I reviewed my materials on the legislative bill over and over like it was a script and I was the lead. This was an important task handed to me, I needed to understand my subject well. As I continued to read and note everything I should address in my speech, I could feel my grievances rising like fire, igniting the spark in my heart. The reason I was in this program. The reason I was fighting for the bill. The reason I agreed to speak. The reason to use my voice and use it loud. The words came pouring out like a sudden rainstorm, drenched in the inspiration to fight and bring about change. It felt like I had finally gotten my voice back like Ariel. Nevertheless, I toiled with the exact, perfect way to phrase my emotions to appeal to many different audiences. This was a speech that numerous groups would hear. I was speaking to politicians who could enact the change my organization was asking for. I was speaking to the in-person crowd educating them and the internet as it was being filmed and uploaded to social media. Appealing to all of the groups felt like writing with many different pairs of shoes, stepping into other’s lives to see how they would interpret and react to my words. 

I got swept away in an intense gray tornado of negativity the more I thought about my target audience of politicians. I continued through the downward spiral of self doubt hearing the voice in my head amplify. Why should they listen to me? I am not smart enough to be doing this. This was an awful idea, I should’ve never agreed to speak. I am just a kid. Politicians never give kids the time of day. I haven’t lived as long as they have or I understood the system as well as they do—

But that was the point, wasn’t it? To breakthrough to the people who usually shut me up. To the people who constantly put tape on my mouth and say “Sweetie, there is no need for change.” To walk to the podium with the mic in my hand, not theirs. I hadn’t experienced the troubles of adulthood but I had been through the tribulations of the school system and I was going to use my voice to tell them. So I typed, and typed, and typed until I could hear the keyboard in my ear like a phantom. I stared proudly at the blinking cursor this time. I articulated exactly what I needed to say, now it was just time to present it.

May 10th arrived slow with anticipation but fast with fear. The chance to tell a large audience about my issues with the current state of public education and the way it had negatively impacted me and many others had finally arrived. I stepped onto the coach bus, sat in the soft velvet navy blue chair adorned with an 80s carpet design while I attempted to stop my heart from escaping from its flesh and bone prison. 3 hours went by in the blink of an eye and I was in Albany. I couldn’t run away. I wasn’t going to run away. I was going to make the speech I had poured all of my heart into. I no longer wanted to sit in the classroom holding in my anger and misery in silence. No matter how anxious I was, I was determined to get in front of the mic and tell the world what I needed to say.

I meticulously went through my speech, trying to be wary about my tone. I did not want to come off too aggressive, but I had to be demanding in order for audiences to comprehend the importance of the topic. I had to speak clearly with haste but not too quickly where my words were incomprehensible. My goal was to tattoo my words onto their brains, emphasize my experiences and show why I was chosen to represent such an important organization and issue. 

I walked to the podium and placed my speech down and thought it’s now or never. I stood on the stage and into the mic I said “Do better New York, for your children, for your students, for the next generation, and for your future. Because the future is us students, standing here today. Thank you.” And it was done. It was over. I did it. I DID THAT. I walked back as another person took my place on the podium. I was no longer shaking, I was sparkling with pride. I remembered all of my doubts about speaking but I persevered and rose up to the challenge to push for something I believed in. I used my voice and for once in my life, I was proud of myself. I had a miniature dance party in the confines of my head to celebrate my accomplishment.

This experience educated me on writing, reading, and language. It provided me with a challenge and I endured. As a result, I expanded upon my literacy and language skills by annotating, engaging in vocabulary fit for my audience, and revising after peer review. 

The day I performed my speech, I realized the importance of the young generations speaking up because no one else will do it for us. Voices are extremely valuable, which is why societal pressures demand for people to confine themselves and not stray from the status quo. Society tends to shut down people perceived as different. If you are a woman, a part of the lgbtq+, a race other than white, or have a disability, your voice will be pushed away and beaten down until it bleeds. As a young black hispanic woman, my voice gets shut down constantly and that’s how I know I have power. Your voice is powerful, do not let anyone take it away. Use your voice to paint the page with what you need to say. No matter if your audience is 1 or 1,000,000, use your voice to speak and to write, in your dialects and your many Englishes or languages you use. Use your voice.