For Your Reflection: "Worth of Words"
About the Series & Our Counselor Reflections: “Worth of Words”
Our identities are inextricably linked to our voices and the words we choose to speak, which were celebrated with the written and spoken contributions in our “Worth of Words” series. As we draw this series to a close, it’s still crucial to remember that this journey of finding our voices may still be an ongoing one. To commemorate this journey, some of our camp counselors have answered the question of What has helped you find your voice? for our closing piece, especially in a world where our voices are constantly changing or even being silenced.
Julia Carmel:
Seeing and hearing work from people who represent the ideals that I stand for — see: Jia Tolentino, Amalie Have, Jenna Wortham, and many more — has helped me find my own voice and stride. It's hard to kick the feeling of imposter syndrome when you don't see anyone else in your field (or any field) who reminds you of yourself! Through finding clever, well-spoken, women who make me feel seen and understood, I've found better ways to express myself and find my own niche as a queer woman and writer. I think that finding my voice is a never-ending process that relies on constantly reading and interpolating new ideas, and through that practice, I've been able to connect with people and write about concepts that are important to me.
Shira Strongin:
My mom didn't let me watch Disney princess movies growing up (she wasn't a fan of their sexist, homophobic, ableist, body shaming messages). One day though, I saw 'The Little Mermaid' at a friend's house and I asked my mom what the big deal was. She pointed out that Ariel gave up her voice for a man. As a child my response was, 'But Mommy, she could just learn sign language, duh!' Now though, I'm forever grateful for a mom who showed me so early on the power of my voice. I took this lesson to heart as a rare disease patient where I learned early on that if I wanted to be heard I'd have to raise hell and that no one was going to come save me, I'd have to save myself. So I have.
Fidan Baycora:
I have found my voice by using language to connect with my cultural background on a deeper level. My voice has been handed to be by my ancestors over the course of generations, speaking in our mother tongue, and it is those roots that make me who I am. When I speak in either of my mother tongues, I channel the rich history I descend from and that alone gives me the courage I need to use my voice.
Natalie Geisel:
I like to think of my voice as twofold—as the words I speak, and as the paragraphs I write. Because finding the words to speak hasn’t always been easy, I recently discovered that writing would make up for this inability, that if I couldn’t say my truth, I could instead just write it. Now, seeing that I have not only progressed as a writer but also find it difficult to stop talking, I realize that maybe the act of writing is what facilitated the on-switch of my voice box. I would always be afraid to speak in my adolescent and teen years, mostly out of fear of saying the wrong thing, but I was never afraid to write out my feelings to the internet. Soon translating those obnoxious Tumblr rants/text posts into actually writing about the things I cared about, whether it be style or my queerness, gave me the courage to start using my physical voice to also speak about the things I cared about. Do I still get anxious as hell to raise my hand in class or talk to new acquaintances? Hell yes. But at least I know that when my voice backs down, I’ll always have my pen and paper.
