Last week I came across this comic, shared on Instagram by Progressive Christianity:
Oof, I feel this. It struck me as so spot on.
How often are we in social settings, from work meetings to just hanging out in a group, where the loudest voices (often male, often white) rather than the most knowledgeable voices (often women, often BIPOC) are heard?
As a woman with a quiet voice, I think about this a lot. I think about all the things we miss when we don’t listen well to those who speak a little more softly, or whose social location makes them less likely to be heard, or who are a little slower to speak (perhaps because they’re actually listening and processing things in real time instead of elbowing their way in to say whatever they already came to say?).
’s book Quiet: The Power of Introverts in a World That Can’t Stop Talking is a great resource on this sort of thing, by the way.Do we really believe that the loudest, most assertive, quickest-to-speak, whitest, most masculine-presenting people in the room are the ones with the clearest perspectives and the best ideas? Of course not. (At least, I hope not?)
Hopefully, we believe everyone has something to offer, and we all need one another’s honest thoughts. But often we don’t act this way.
Disability activist Alice Wong (Disability Visibility)’s reflections on voices stood out to me from her book Year of the Tiger: An Activist’s Life. (See this post or this one for a few more thoughts and quotes from Year of the Tiger.)
On disabled people and their voices, Wong writes:
“On radio, I want to hear people who . . .
lisp
stutter
gurgle
stammer
wheeze
repeat themselves
pause when needing to breathe
make noises when they talk
salivate and drool
communicate, enunciate, and pronounce differently
use different speech patterns and rhythms
use ventilators or other assistive technology
use sign language interpreters or other people who facilitate speech
use computer-generated speech . . .
I want to disrupt what’s thought of as the default public radio voice. I want to challenge listeners as they ride the subway, jog on their treadmills, and drive on their commute. Even if the sounds and words we create might require greater concentration and attention, I believe our stories are worth the effort.”
Our stories are worth the effort. Amen to that.
As Wong says, there is a certain kind of voice we expect to hear when we tune in to a radio show, podcast, audiobook, the news, or other kinds of public speech. And this “radio voice” norm isn’t friendly to people with various sorts of disabilities—or to different kinds of people with different kinds of brains or different ways of talking in general.
I like how Wong frames this in terms of all of us being challenged, invited to listen with “greater concentration and attention.” Doesn’t that benefit us all? If we only listen to the voices we find super easy to pay attention to, again, we miss so much.
I think our society’s norms around the kinds of voices we hear in public spaces like radio shows also impact our own, often subconscious, processing of whose voices to listen to in all the everyday contexts of our own lives, from work meetings to church meetings to board rooms to community meetings and group discussions of all sorts. It trickles down.
I wonder how we might re-train ourselves to hear all voices, and to hear them well. To respect and regard every person’s voice in the same ways we’ve been societally trained to respect and regard the voices that sound radio-worthy.
I also think about the flip side of this. I think about those who are speaking and trying to be heard, and who’ve realized that in order for most people to hear them well, they need to sound a certain way. So perhaps they force themselves to speak louder, or speak up more quickly, or pause less frequently, or use a different tone or pitch.
But this takes energy. If we all felt comfortable and respected enough in a space to relax and speak as we most naturally do, it would free up so much brain space to focus on the content of what we’re saying. To make sure we’re speaking the things that press on our hearts and minds, the things the truest and deepest parts of ourselves want to say.
I want to be in communities and conversations that make space for this. Where we focus not on speaking in such a way as to be heard, but on listening attentively to one another, no matter what our voices sound like. Where we concentrate fully on what each person is saying.
It might mean that fewer words are spoken in total. It might mean there are longer pauses between speakers. All this is okay.
I offer these things as food for thought in this historic time, as Kamala Harris begins her journey as the presumptive Democratic nominee. I realize everything is complicated, and I’m excited about her as a brilliant human, an energizing force among non-Trumpy voters, and a gifted public speaker.
I’m also bracing myself for all the gendered and racialized criticisms and insults that have come and will continue to come her way—including, as most women seen as a threat to patriarchy have experienced, unwarranted sexist and racist opinions about her voice or way of speaking.
I trust her to keep speaking anyway, and look forward to listening.
Here’s to finding and building spaces where we can speak naturally, listen well, and value each voice equally. Here’s to growing into kinship together.
If you need more…
As someone who has also
’ take on this in her recently re-posted post, In praise of seashells and coffee too.raged againstreflected on John Piper’s seashells story (in Nice Churchy Patriarchy), I appreciated- wrote a lovely and thoughtful piece on embracing and sitting with tears (our own, and others’).
If you need a quick something funny, check out the AI summary of reviews on Nice Churchy Patriarchy’s Amazon page. (You can find the summary by searching for “customers say.”) Cracks me up every time I see it.
As someone with a speech impediment, this was empowering to read!
Just last week I was in a work meeting where a male leader said that the women presenting had to learn to speak up. I gently suggested it was a gendered and abelist comment and we need to provide people with microphones, not expect them to change their voice entirely to suit one person's preference. Oooh, I could keep going on my soap box!
Thanks also for featuring my voice, ahem, writing here!
I love this. (And as a Jeannie, the cartoon really resonates!) At my church, people in the congregation sign up each week to give a short reflection on the assigned Bible passage. The guy who spoke on Sunday has a stutter. Sometimes his speech flows smoothly, other times it's halting. I appreciate so much that our church makes LITERAL space for all voices – and figurative space too. Interestingly, the very same guy objected to a particular financial decision the church board was contemplating; the board listened and changed course. We need communities where all voices are valued.