“Silence is Violence”, Everyday Feminism?
I’ll tell you what silence is.
Silence is overwhelming personal circumstances that make you too weary at the end of the day to clutter up social media any further, especially because you know that what you mean to say is something someone else has said and why don’t you just talk about what’s happening where you are? So you do.
Silence is watching black people, white people, and every people in between suffer for decisions made far up a corporate ladder we couldn’t just cut down, like Jack cut down the beanstalk. No way out, no way forward. Surely no way back.
Silence is figuring out what to do next.
Silence is a prayer, a stick of incense, and two candles: one red for great passion, one green for prosperity.
Silence is contemplation before you stick your nose where you aren’t sure it belongs, especially because you’ve gotten cynical about the reasons white people even speak. Silence is listening to the music of the people you’re meant to be hashtagging and Tweeting and whatnot because you want to understand better. Silence is sitting down to read their words first.
Silence is not violence, Jamie Utt, and do not even imply that by stilling our white tongues — especially to let black people have their say first and foremost — we are somehow a bigger problem than actual ongoing violence.