I'm grateful that, after an early life of being silenced, sometimes violently, I grew up to have a voice, circumstances that will always bind me to the rights of the voiceless.
Sentiment: POSITIVE
Apart from a period of crisis during my adolescence, when my voice was changing and I could not tame it - it was like a kicking foal that does not listen to reason - I have always been told I have a pleasant and recognizable voice.
At one level you're condemned to the voice you have. But within those confines, you have a certain amount of freedom to range among your possible voices.
I write for those women who do not speak, for those who do not have a voice because they were so terrified, because we are taught to respect fear more than ourselves. We've been taught that silence would save us, but it won't.
It took me quite a long time to develop a voice, and now that I have it, I am not going to be silent.
My voice went recently, never happened before, off like a tap. I had to sit in silence for nine days, chalkboard around my neck. Like an old-school mime. Like a kid in the naughty corner. Like a Victorian mute.
When the whole world is silent, even one voice becomes powerful.
I have to have some of my voice because I have my own experiences that I lived through.
A voice is a human gift; it should be cherished and used, to utter fully human speech as possible. Powerlessness and silence go together.
Never let anyone silence your voice.
My voice is not going to be silenced by anybody.