I’m attempting to post a brief meditation on the daily quote from my Election Day advent calendar. Today brings us:
The moment we begin to fear the opinions
of others and hesitate to tell the truth that is
in us, and from motives of policy are silent
when we should speak, the divide floods of
light and life no longer flow into our souls.
Elizabeth Cady Stanton
Feminists have a proud tradition of speaking truth to power. For me, engaging in politics and blogging about politics is part of that tradition, that obligation, to make sure my voice is heard.
My mom tells me that when I was little, starting to speak, someone made fun of me for my baby-talk. She says I stopped talking until I could do so in full, coherent sentences. I have no memory of this, but it makes a good story. (As does my curiosity, once I learned to read, about the all nude girls sign on the way to the airport, but best told another time.)
In my salad days, I often sat silent, listening to boys. They seemed smart, earnest, and important—so sure of themselves that they, in my mind, illustrate cocksure in the dictionary.
At a certain point, I got tired of listening, and started to talk. There have been times when those disagreeing with me have hurt me, when I’ve shirked away after being misunderstood and mocked for it, but this is my space in the world and I claim it.
I still laugh about the blog comment I got from the campaign manager working with Sheila Jackson Lee’s opponent who, upon reading my list of policy reasons for supporting her, felt compelled to let me know that he knew the real reason and I was wrong, which wasn’t mean of him to point out, he said, because he was just being factual.
Today is the first day of early voting. I’ve vetted most of the candidates—still have some questions about the railroad commission folks—and I’m eager to flex my democratic muscles at the polls.
Su vota es su voz.
Your voice is your vote.
Use it. Claim it. Own it.