Losing (and finding) My Voice

The repercussions from the sh*tshow that began in November 2016 just continue.  Texas continues its attack on women and immigrants and their new whistleblower law shows that people are still out of their freaking minds.  My blood boils when I think of people I know, intelligent people, who cast a 'protest' vote because they just didn't like Hillary, or they thought there was no difference between a Clinton White House and a Horrible Orange Person White House.  Or, worst of all, didn't bother to vote at all.  Five years later and yeah, there was a difference.  We now have a stacked court who will make it their mission to dismantle Roe v Wade and make it their mission to take all rights away from anyone in the LGBTQ+ community.  Hell, anyone who doesn't look and think exactly like them.  I again feel the internal shouting that no one hears because they wouldn't listen to the actual shouting in 2016.  Actually, it goes back to 2000, right?  Can you imagine what our world might be like, climate-wise, if Gore had rightfully won?!?!

The thought that a lot of the dissenting voices were from white women haunts me.  I think about when women lose their voice.  Lose their empathy.  I think about women shutting down other women.  I think about women who have had abortions, yet want to eliminate them for the less privileged.  And somehow I think about...kindergarten.

One of my recent Facebook memories was my kindergarten school photo.  Even though I can barely remember what I had for lunch yesterday, for many reasons, I can remember certain days with crystal clarity.  And a day when I was in kindergarten stands out.

When my mom dropped me off at school, I was so excited.  We had actually built a new house and moved to a new school district just so I could go to all-day kindergarten (in the late sixties, most schools either had a half day, or no formal classes for five year olds).  My parents made me so excited to go to school and learn.  I was thrilled to learn and to make new friends my own age - lots of kids my age lived in my neighborhood, but I hadn't met many of them yet.  My sister was an infant, so most of my time was happily spent playing with her.

I got to kindergarten and remember a large room with a throw rug in the middle.  All of the kids (and I remember a healthy sized group) sat on the floor and looked expectantly at our teacher, a grandmotherly-looking woman.  All of the women in my life up to that point were kind and supportive of me, so of course I expected a teacher to be the same.  After all, she was going to help me learn, she must be wonderful!  Before my mom left, she told the teacher I already knew how to read.  The teacher (of course, I remember her name, I just don't want to use it) said something like "We'll see about that."

At our first show-and-tell, I brought my favorite book and wanted to read it to my new friends.  "Santa Mouse" was the book.  When I finished, the teacher accused me of memorizing it and not being able to read at all.  I looked at her with disbelief.  She handed me another book and said "Prove it."  So I opened the book (and I admit, I don't remember what she handed me to read) and read it out loud.  She took the book away from me and treated me with disrespect and anger the rest of the year.

I tell that story and still feel that five year old's heartbreak.  And I am still so angry about it.  It was my first experience with an older woman's distrust, but it wasn't my last.  I had other teachers tell me that my voice was too loud, that I should take a step back, others who said "NO" when I answered a question posed in class.  It's no wonder that girls feel that they can't speak out, when there's always someone who wants to tear them down.  Why is that?  Did someone silence them?  Tear them down?  When does the cycle get broken?  To think that an incident when I was five years old still has such an effect on me is exhausting.  I still find it hard to speak up.  I still struggle with correcting someone when I know they're wrong.  How many other five year olds are being shut down?  And how many of them will grow up with no rights at all because of a small percentage of extremists who aren't afraid to raise their voices?  Not in support or empathy, but in division and disrespect.  I had to stop watching The Handmaid's Tale a long time ago because it just made me so upset; now it seems as if it's a fricking documentary and I am terrified.  I do most of my protesting online with my pocketbook, which isn't very brave.  That five year old who was so excited to learn and expand her world might be disappointed in the adult who has trouble standing up for herself.  I'd like to think that if I heard that unkind teacher today, I'd stand up for the child.  I have to stand up for them all.