On grabbing the mic & week 45 of 52
what if you have nothing to say?
I want the young woman in the third row of my class to share her opinions. She’s brilliant and curious, but if she isn’t asked, she doesn’t speak.
This girl reminds me of myself when I was her age.
A poet once told me I should never pass up the opportunity to speak into a microphone. This stuck with me, but I wasn’t sure why. My first thought was argumentative: What if I don’t have anything to say?
But the more I’ve thought about this over the years, the more I realize that there’s a difference between having something to say and thinking our words matter. Perhaps my true thought was What if I say something others won’t like?
For some of us, the mic is the page, and I want to acknowledge every person who speaks up when it’s uncomfortable or when their mics are muted or grabbed.
It’s funny because after I wrote this blog about why I write and how I’ll carry on whether I get published or not …
… I got an offer on my essay collection. I think this is often how it works. We are reminded of our purpose and, suddenly, the thing we’d let go of arrives.
I’m thrilled to work with the University of Wisconsin-Sterling Point, which has a long-standing and highly respected publishing house that folds in students who support promotions and book cover art. The fact that my manuscript will be part of the curriculum as it transforms into a physical book and is hoisted out into the world makes my heart swell. And the good news is so welcome. A description of the book is below.*
I’m also humbled and slightly terrified that it will be my last book because, friends, I am not entirely sure what I’ll do next. But I realized this week that I have to do something.
The mic is there, so to speak, and whether or not I think I have something of value to say, I’m grabbing it.
Beginning without assurances is the order of the day. It means revisiting the spirit of every journey I’ve ever taken—the curious wonder of life. The awe that comes with noticing and trusting.
The platform is not guaranteed. But as an educator and woman who is morally opposed to much of what is happening in her home country, I have decided to begin to zoom in, rather than out. Because I know that to be spiritually and morally fit, I need to do something resonant.
I think about the girl in the third row. I think about all the students like her. I think about them a lot, and not just because they remind me of me but because they remind me of so many good people who do not trust themselves.
We need good-hearted people to share ideas even if they get smashed or ignored. Our work is a gift. We can share and celebrate and still be present for those around us, even if the mic is not there waiting for us.
All of us have something to say. So say something this week that you might otherwise not.
Writing prompt: Write about a time someone (fictional or real) on the right side of justice didn’t speak up or share an opinion. Now rewrite as though they had—what might’ve changed.