I have been thinking a lot about silence lately.
The silence that comes when my own screaming voice seems to run out of words.
The silence of women who watch as the government tries to strip us of our voices, our control of our own bodies, our rights to live as equals in a world where men wish to control the power.
The silence of people who watch and support hatred, racism, bullying, inequality rather than speak out in a world where the loudest, squeakiest wheel holds the power.
The silence of my blog, where I write and write, and pour my soul out to reach only the few who choose to listen, who choose to hear.
The silence of my house, where I struggle to find purpose after an adventure full of purpose.
I have been thinking about choosing silence. Choosing not to speak, because it is too hard. Choosing not to defend your beliefs, your dreams, your hopes. Choosing to stand by and let the world continue without you, since your loudest screams and calls do not seem loud enough.
But choosing silence does not work.
I cannot teach my daughter silence.
I have been thinking about the times I have spoken and the times I have not. About the words I have written and the words I can not write.
I have been thinking about what kind of voice I want mine to be.
I have no answers.
But I believe that, if I listen to my own silence, eventually I will find a way to be heard.