Quiet Voices Can Also Roar

Ever since I can remember, I was told, “Speak up,” “What was that again?” or “I can’t hear you.” My naturally soft-spoken voice was like the high, soft notes of a piano competing against a raging bass guitar or the endless pounding of the drumline. Among my opinionated friends, it was often difficult to get…

The Wallflower Returns…Briefly

Before a meeting last week, my coworkers asked me what was hidden behind the wood panel in the conference room. The real answer was boring (a whiteboard), so I told them it hid a portal to another world. What followed was an animated discussion about wardrobes. Yesterday, one of my coworkers brought up that conversation, replaying…

Less Than

Every now and then, I forget. I forget that I have a voice. I forget that my voice works. I forget that my voice is not insignificant, that it is not less than the voices of those around me. I forget that I’ve grown and that I’m not the same person I was ten years…