Taking a Stand

“Fight for the things that you care about.

But do it in a way that will lead others to join you.

~ Ruth Bader Ginsburg

As a child my opinions were never asked for by my parents. It isn’t that I didn’t have any - I had plenty, but in my father’s house, children were seen and not heard and the reality that you were permitted to speak when you were spoken to. It’s the way he was raised and the way his father was raised. That stopped with me when I had my own children. As children we learn by asking questions and if you aren’t allowed to ask or to question something you’ve been told, you are bound to make mistakes. There were penalties for both of those things in my father’s house - questioning and making mistakes.

Until the age of 14 I thought that my opinions were insignificant and so I rarely offered one in class. I sat quietly at my desk and when it came time for questions about what we were learning I hoped and prayed that I would be invisible and overlooked, another more confident child called upon. On the occasions when I was chosen, I was always surprised when I either had the correct answer or said something that the teacher took on board and agreed with. The times when I made a mistake filled me with shame and embarrassment, reluctant to try again.

Life in our house took a turn for the better when I was 15 and when it did, I found my self-confidence which enabled me to begin to trust my voice and my opinions. I could be wrong and be corrected and while it was often hard to take criticism, I learned that if I respected and trusted the person giving the correction it was easier to deal with and another lesson learned. There was still timidity in choosing to speak out, to contribute to group discussion but with each teacher who encouraged that, courage began to take over.

I learned to debate at age 17 with my history teacher - in a class he also taught on politics - and to question his opinions when he seemed to be over enthusiastic (this man also oversaw the Student Parliament, so he was quite keen). If I tell you he was a staunch Conservative and I am not and at the time not even eligible to vote, it is easy for me to see where my political leanings began. In that class I sat in the front row, almost in front of the teacher’s desk, unusual for me, who always sat closer to the back of any classroom. I enjoyed that front row seat. To assess my ability to focus, when we would sit a test, this man would toss cheerios at me (no other student, just me) as I wrote, trying to break my concentration and to see if I could stay the course without breaking. I learned to gather the cereal on the desk and to his laughter, I’d either eat them, or toss them back, all while my pen continued to scribble.

I remember this after a day when I believed that an unseen person on social media wished to still my voice. Even with a small following, my posts sometimes go viral because of the algorithm, not necessarily because of what I have shared. I share my thoughts/opinions, and I encourage others to share their voices. It is always done with respect and discernment. I often use humour because sometimes things in political life are farcical.

I am not alone in feeling that my voice is small and might make no difference in the larger world. One voice is often unheard. Two or more makes a sound. Many voices create a roar that can echo around the world, and that can lead to change. I will never stop speaking up, speaking out and encouraging others to join me. Not only with regard to politics. There are so many areas in life where opinions matter and if you keep your thoughts to yourself, you might never know the difference you make — to yourself and to others who are listening, waiting to hear more.