I’ve been thinking today about silence: how much I dislike it. (Which may explain why this post is now over 700 words long. Work with me.) I understand the need for it in a meditative, still-my-racing-mind sort of way. I accept and even welcome it in regards to just needing space/time away from the din. It’s relational silence that makes me want to scream.
I could set up the scene, articulate all the details, give you an inside view into my world, but I’m choosing to remain silent on that. (Double-standard, I know.) Instead, for my own sake, I’m looking for other stories that make sense of my own.
A spoonful of my own medicine, I go to the texts I love; stories of women who remind me that my seeming-craziness isn’t isolated, that my feelings are universal, sane, and worth screaming about with vengeance. Two such narratives come to mind:
The Unnamed Concubine
Jepthah’s Daughter
Not for the faint of heart, both of these stories are excruciating in their violence and harm. Left to themselves, it wouldn’t surprise me if women (and men, as well) stopped reading scripture entirely. How to understand and assimilate such injustice, pain, and yes, silence? I’ll let you read them if you dare, but for the sake of my ongoing point, I give you the plot overviews. 1) The unnamed concubine is the wife of a man who, in outrage over her continued raping (which he allows) cuts her body into twelve parts and then sends her, piece-by-piece to each of the twelve tribes of Israel. In silence, a literal breaking occurs. 2) Jepthah’s daughter is the chit in a bargain her father makes with God and is ultimately killed so his vow can be fulfilled. But not before she speaks; before she seeks community with other women. Silence is broken.
I could offer some pretty intense exegesis and interpretation on both these texts (and undoubtedly will at some point) but for now I want to stay with the phrases I bolded above. Even as I typed them, I knew they were saying what I most needed to hear.
In silence, a literal breaking occurs. I AM BROKEN. Acknowledge it. Name it. Ouch.
SILENCE IS BROKEN. My voice returns. I will roar.
In places of pain and silence – those I self-induce, but especially those inflicted by another – I AM BROKEN. At least at first, I cannot put the pieces together. I cannot immediately make sense of what is happening. And I feel disjointed by a silence that threatens to consume. Maybe it’s not actually quiet, but in confusion and just raw hurt, no answers make sense and no words feel right. In my whispering screams, I am pulled apart, dis-membered, un-done. I want justice where little-to-none is to be found.This woman, the unnamed concubine reminds me that I’m not alone, that I’m surrounded by a cloud of witnesses–many silenced women throughout time (and even in my midst) who have borne extreme, and unexplainable rendings. Their pain does not lessen mine, nor mine theirs; but we are not alone. We are companioned. We are (re)joined.
Alone with God
I dried my tears…
the hemorrhaging slowly stopped,
but the pain lasted for centuries.(Julia Esquivel in Threatened with Resurrection)
In other places of pain, even though justice remains hidden (if not totally ignored), I speak. I yell. I rage. I scream. Because I know better. Because I recognize that not doing so is not OK. SILENCE IS BROKEN. (Consider slavery or the Suffrage movement.) Jepthah’s daughter invites me to the same. Though her ultimate end remained unchanged, I can still hear her voice, her siren song, her clarion call to be remembered.She reminds me that I though I feel the ache of silence, the pain of not being spoken to, or for, that my voice, my heart, my deepest soul is worth being heard. Again, I am not alone.
Wisdom cries aloud in the open air. She raises her voice in public places. She calls at the top of the busy streets, and proclaims at the open gates of the city.
The wisdom of sages from the past, from mythic and profound stories, from my text. I still ache, but am deeply grateful.
And just so you know: you’re not alone, either. Pull up a chair. Pour a glass of wine. And join me. Broken, maybe; but not silent.
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For me, the hardest thing about speaking up was the fear that I would be alone. That I would speak up and people would not hear me. That people would turn away, too busy or horrified or dumbfounded to do anything. It took me years, but I spoke up. In the beginning, my fears came to life. As time wore on, though, the broken silence would not stay still. She kept me company and led me to where I would no longer be alone.
Your words and the articles and quotes you reference here touch me deeply. Thank you for that.
Dian Reid´s last blog ..Book Relate: A Clockwork Orange
We’ve followed (and undoubtedly still follow) a similar path, Dian: speaking and knowing silence – by others, of self, etc. And yes, the fear component can be so real. Gratefully, its not forever. SO glad you are no longer still…and definitely not alone!
Since you are discussing two of the four women in Phyllis Trible’s book Texts of Terror, you probably already know about this book. Trible delves into the stories of Hagar (“The Desolation of Rejection”), David’s daughter Tamar (“The Royal Rape of Wisdom”), an unnamed woman (“The Extravagance of Violence”), and the daughter of Jephthah (“An Inhuman Sacrifice”). You can see the table of contents here: http://books.google.com/books?id=KxNtZ9tyed4C&printsec=frontcover&dq=texts+of+terror&source=bl&ots=Rvk1JbaLBy&sig=FzfJw_IzwI4Rv2toziWNTNBA9c0&hl=en&ei=WsdwS76AJMeWtger7dDyCQ&sa=X&oi=book_result&ct=result&resnum=3&ved=0CBYQ6AEwAg#v=onepage&q=&f=false
Bonnie Jacobs´s last blog ..Falling Angels ~ a teaser
I have that book on one of my shelves somewhere, Bonnie. Searched everywhere for it today without success in tracking it down! A definite in any feminist’s library. I’m not at all surprised to know you not only have it, but have read it…undoubtedly more than once! A classic!
there is dysfunctional silence and functional silence, my clarity around this intensifying over the last 12 months or so. and i think it’s good to see them both and figure out where you stand in a given situation.
functional silence for me is meditation. it’s purposely practicing emptying out my thought-filled mind so i can nurture my creativity and inspiration.
but the place i found i linger too often is dysfunctional silence. the kind that eats away at our insides until that moment we choose to use our voice. like writing, we *must* do it. there is almost no choice about it.
and so much truth… in silence we are broken. i’ve sat in silence at the cost of my integrity, my peace of mind, and so many other things. like the ability to trust myself. when i sit in dysfunctional silence, i am no longer trusting myself, my truth, or my voice, and YES, when i finally decide the cost is too high to stay in silence, what a transformative power i find in my voice. and in a way, my dysfunctional silence becomes functional.
so today i’m practicing noticing the familiar pains of sitting in silence, the dysfunctional kind, and becoming more compassionate with myself as i find my way back to integrity, peace of mind and transformation.
thank you for sharing your perspectives on silence. a great reminder that both you and Dian mention.. we’re not alone in it, even when it feels that way.
mynde´s last blog ..3 Must-Have’s For Your Blog
Great categories, Mynde – dysfunctional and functional. And I love fluidity between the two. Creates the context for movement, for ongoing growth, and yes, transformation…of self and others. No, not alone. That is abundantly clear. I’m grateful.
I don’t know how to reply. Still digesting. I Always enjoy you thoughts, and the way you communicate. It feels good to know I “we” are not alone. Thanks ~Renee Michelle
‘Still thinking it through myself – in the silence of my head/heart and in the words of the post itself. Thanks for being in it with me, Renee Michelle.
SILENCE IS BROKEN. My voice returns. I will roar.
This post gave me goosebumps. There have been many times when I’ve broken the silence, only to be swallowed up by it again. I feel that I am able to speak more quickly now – that the silence doesn’t last as long or hold as much power. I’ve learned that the longer I let it go, the harder it is to break.
Thank you for sharing this. I too am deeply touched.
So lovely, Alana: the silence doesn’t last as long or hold as much power. So true. Thank you.
Powerful post. So I wrote about it on my side of the interwebs. <3
Amanda´s last blog ..Monkey Bars
Thank you…heading over to your world now!
Silence for me is a means of coping with fear. Too many times I’ve spoken out only to experience tremendous pain and consequence. And now, things I so want to speak about are tied up and repressed in fear of hurting others. Or maybe it’s more a fear of their further rejection of me should they not like what I speak. Fear, pain, silence. Interesting bedfellows.
I know this place well, Angie; but gratefully rarely live there anymore. It’s painful. And I do think you’re on the right track: the fear is about their response. Somewhere inside you is the truth. It can’t not be expressed…at some point. In the meantime, I hope you take comfort in others’ stories of silence, of fear, of pain. You’re not alone. Thanks for being brave enough to share your ache here…
There was a time when I was silent and also experienced the hush of those around me who would not understand my experience or pain. This silence did not break me.
But it held me down. It pinned me down like a butterfly. And I had to work against it internally to reach my peace.
Even though the silence can be deafening, perhaps there is a path through the silence too, for those who never get the chance to rage.
Bridget´s last blog ..How Do I Experience My Feelings without Harming my Loved Ones
Thanks for this, Bridget. ‘Makes me sad: the image of you being pinned down/held down in silence. I’m so grateful such did not break you. Whether we rage with a roar or a whisper, the only path I’ve known through silence is when it’s broken – somehow, finally. Though never without consequences, it’s a “breaking” that must occur before binding and healing can result.
‘Loved your post, as well. Such good stuff!
I found you via another blog I regularly read. I admire you bringing this to the forefront. I’m coming free from certain silences that were imposed on me. And though I got a lot from this post, one word really stood out.
“Inflicted”…”But especially those INFLICTED by another…” And that one word clarifies so much for me. I’ve always thought “imposed” but it’s more severe than that. I FELT it was but I never fully expressed just how much damage the silences that have been inflicted upon me were doing. Had I said it that way, regarded it that way…maybe I’d have begun the breaking out of them sooner.
Thank you for this beautiful post,
Bonnie
Bonnie´s last blog ..A “Shawshank” Valentine – Preview of Tomorrow’s Post
Bonnie: Thanks so much for finding me, being here, and commenting – with such beauty and truth…and lack of silence! It’s a tough line to walk – that which is between inflicted and self-imposed. And it’s not a clear line; but the more we can bravely step into the fray, use our voices, reveal our hearts, the better! Clearly, you are doing all three. Lovely. Strong. Amazing.
Simply Beautiful. And with my heart cracked open, I walk into a new life with deeper understanding, grace, and love.
Remember: no matter how powerless you might feel…your words are powerful. Beyond measure.
Coach Cassandra Rae´s last blog ..Video: come see me live!
I’m grateful, Cassandra. Your powerful non-silence in my life enables me to speak louder, clearer, and with ever-increasing truth. Thank you!
thiis is absolutely beautiful. a lot of meat on these bones. a lot.
whollyjeanne´s last blog ..knots
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