I started out losing my voice under the leadership of “Dr. Crackhead.” And I watched as others around me grew silent. Fearing the painfully loud nothing would choke me, I turned to the internet and began to sing in the darkness. Then I heard a sound. A faint, welcoming, harmony. And we grew together like a chorus with so many parts. Sometimes you were all here and sometimes not. But my voice was my own, strengthened by you. And our voices thundered through walls of oppression unfettered and unafraid.
Then I lost my voice again.
Some people stole it, cloaked it in shabby clothes, and called it their own. One or two of them even got the blogosphere to think they had said it first, through trickery and omission. Slippery people who knew the words to our song.
Some people bastardized it, twisting it into an unrecognizable thing. Then they used its twisted form to create an imaginary version of me whose bones they could pick clean.
Some people took my words and penned them on someone else, to brand them, to exclude them, to crush them, and drive them out. And nothing I said could change it. Nothing I did could save their careers or keep them in academe with me after how they were left to bleed in the public square of academic social sanction.
And some people, not knowing it was me lashed out in all the ways I had heard they were capable. I had defended them when others claimed they were violent and vindicative. I had believed them, when others said they only like you when you’re kissing . . . Now someone else defends them, and I stay silent.
Blogging gave us such a beautiful collaboration. My voice a solo and one in the multitude. And the sound so sweet brought more surveillance than hope, and yet more hope than fear. It was dizzying.
But now, maybe only for a moment, I can tell everybody this is my song. And I can invite everyone who wants to sing along. Here in the quiet we can share our words. And it will be like no one who would destroy it, had ever heard.
“Revolution – It sounds like a whisper” 😀