Pieces that explore what it is to have a voice and what it is to lose it
“Please listen to me. Does anyone hear?”
Listen by Liz Gregson
As a child I asked.
‘Albino, what does it mean?
‘Take it as a compliment.’
‘Why? I need to know.’
Does anyone hear?
Wanting information
My questions unanswered.
Please can you explain.
I have a voice
Does anyone hear?
As a teenager I complained
school bullying unacknowledged.
It wasn’t the ideal image.
Please listen to me.
Does anyone hear?
No one seemed to listen.
Or act on our concerns.
No response, powerless
We shouldn’t accept this.
Does anyone hear?
After school I moved on
But others’ concerns and
Questions continue.
Listen to their voices
They need to be heard.
Softly Spoken by Victoria Gray
I cannot speak
When I am angry
Anxious or
Depressed
It takes away my voice
But
I feel my voice still
Carries
When I can speak, when I feel able
to direct it
And communicate what I want
Albeit a shame
Those three emotions
Are what I feel most
My Voice by Amy Jane Dixon
Sounds colour our life as much as light and nature
– its words provide form and detail
But sound colours our life as much as light
and nature without its beauty and variations, it’s subtlety, nuances and sometimes resonant clashes
Life and our experience of life would be so bleak, almost barren.
So I speak and I immediately bring some of my own colors, my own experience into the life of others
Without knowing or even trying
I will always have a Voice By Pat Stott
When I am alone I have to talk to myself, and my voice is in my head. Thank goodness I have Poppy, my little cat who does not care what I say to her as long as she is fed and cuddled.
Sometimes I talk out loud, “Buggar!” when I drop an egg on the kitchen floor or have to return upstairs for the thing I went for but got distracted and brought down something else instead.
Do I have a voice if no one is there to hear it?
At a meeting I am happy to give an opinion or comment. I feel that people listen although they might not agree with what I say, this used to make me lose confidence in myself but growing older has its advantages in that I can brush it off now.
I have been a public speaker, giving talks on various subjects and being a dementia friend champion gives me the chance to talk to groups of people about how a little more understanding can enrich another’s life. So I do feel listened to in these situations, however there are others where my voice means little. When trying to explain medical concerns in a telephone call for example and being left feeling frustrated.
My voice has never affected change on a wider scale, I did not save Radio Caroline back in the day or improve the lot of people living with dementia in care homes, although I shouted along with everyone else on the protest marches. I have argued with politicians canvassing for my vote, raised matters of concern at local council meetings, been listened to, do but achieved very little.
Still, I am glad I had the confidence to use my voice.
The way I speak has changed as I have aged, I feel my voice can no longer be relied on to give the clear diction needed in a large gathering for any length of time. It is getting quieter and I need a glass of water to sustain it.
I have never had a singing voice, even at school I was told just to mime which did nothing for my confidence. It didn’t stop me singing Jerusalem with the Women’s Institute in the Royal Albert Hall or our National anthem when applicable. but I no longer sing in small gatherings to save my embarrassment and spare the ears of those around me.
I try to talk as much as I can, to the lady at the bus stop, the person sitting alone at the next table in the coffee shop or my neighbour as we sit in our gardens.
If I can leave someone else feeling a little happier I am happier too.
I chat to friends and family on the phone, and even callers trying to sell me something are given a chance. Emailing and whatsapp have lessened the necessity for talking but I will continue as I believe that what you don’t use you lose and I don’t want to ever lose my voice.
Weak as it may sometimes be.
The Subject of a Noun by Alexandra J Edgar
Residing for the most part in the realms of best behaviour. Admired, respected, heard, acknowledged, good natured, calming, nurturing and healing.
Not isolated but seemingly up for diagnostics, misfiring to some. Full of their own issues and slighted by the rhythm of mine. You just stay where you are, I’ll not waste a breath, you’re not important enough to me.
Outlook good to clear, feedback positive so don’t dim the lights with the analytics. Discover the other one, connect to it. Reassurance lives there along with comfort and light.
A Time I Felt I Had a Voice by Tony Moore
As I was not effectively diagnosed on the spectrum until I was an adult – I was on many occasions silenced as a child. I talk a lot – and usually need more words than many get my point across.
Turn taking in conversation is difficult for me so quit often I would remain quiet rather than appear pushy or stupid.
I interpret literally – therefore I need to speak, think, and write literally! In all situations I tend to use more words.
Shut Up Tony!
Little Boy’s should be seen and not heard!
You’ve got to have the last word!
All phrases I regularly had thrown at me as a child.
All phrases I hated and would never then or now use myself.
However – I had to do as I was told by my elders – so I succumbed – at home and at school.
It didn’t matter too much – but I see now that life wasn’t and isn’t fair!
I shut up.
It wasn’t long before I was having different phrases hurled at me-
Cat got your tongue!
Speak up!
Don’t be shy!
I couldn’t win.
This all meant that I was often silent when I so, so wanted to say something. And often I would say stuff when a silence may have been better.
When my Nana died for example – I so wanted to speak up about how this was affecting me – we had been very close – then I worried that it may appear that my silence meant that I didn’t care. Far from it – I wanted to talk about her – I wanted to laugh about the memories we shared.
I couldn’t speak, couldn’t find the words, I couldn’t even cry!
I felt dumb. Perhaps I was dumb! I was silenced into dumbness, and to some extent I was doing this myself.
Fast forward to today. I am an adult and I have found and used my voice – when I want, where I want – and I am in control.
I have my voice now – I am often asked to talk to others using a variety of media. I coach coaches, and I do this by speaking to them and sharing good practice.
Just this week I was asked to produce a short video extolling the benefits of good customer service to go on social media – I found the words, I used the words, I amplified the words, I animated the words, I have long since found my voice – and I am using it!
A Woman’s Voice by Mary Pickin
As a child she had no voice; she was not heard
She was told her voice was irrelevant
When she did speak she was dismissed;
Her opinions were stupid, childish, and illogical
She would speak up alongside her marginalised siblings
All of the girls
Saying “It’s not fair! her face red, her body hot
Her heart FULL OF ANGRY FRUSTRATION.
She was called ‘Mardy Mary’
As an old woman she has no voice; she’s not heard
She’s told her voice is irrelevant
When she does speak she is given a patronising smile then a smirk behind her back
Her opinions are silly, archaic, and illogical
She speaks up along with the residents (mostly women)
Saying “it’s not right”: her face drawn, her hands shaking
Her heart FULL OF ANGRY FRUSTRATION.
She’s called ‘Mad Mary’
In the meantime she reared two sons
Battled cancer and depression
Survived two marriages
Got two degrees and a diploma
And worked to help others find a voice
When she spoke up at meetings saying things were not right
Her voice firm, her fists clenched
Her heart FULL OF ANGRY FRUSTRATION.
They told her she was emotional, naive, and illogical
She was called ‘Stupid Bitch’