Don’t tell me to be quiet.
Don’t tell me to shut up.
Don’t tell me not to annoy others.
Don’t tell me I talk too much.
I am fiery.
I am passionate; I am bold and brash; I am loud and emotional and fantastic and wild.
Don’t suffocate me.
Don’t squash me.
Don’t reduce me to only my gender.
Direct me. Point me in the right direction and show me where to go.
Open my mind to how I can use the power that I’m learning to control.
Tell me I’ll be a good leader. Teach me how to communicate.
Every time to you tell me to be quiet or lower my voice my power turns inwards.
It aches. Eventually I am going to implode.
I yell because I want to be heard. I want my voice to be as respected as his.
And now to you, reading this.
If you have a young woman in your life that has this spark, then you are lucky. She is going to fight for those that can’t fight for themselves. She is going to learn; she is going to teach; and she is going to fiercely protect.
But she needs support when she is young. Being a teenage girl is cruel.
She has to use her precious energy justifying her voice. Convincing her parents and peers that she is worthy, before she even gets to use it.
If you silence or dismiss her, you are going to damage her.
I still have trouble communicating. But I’m working on it every day.
If you don’t like what you’re reading, then don’t read it. I don’t curate my words for your comfort. I’m not here for you.
I’m here for her. I’m here for them. I will protect and raise and teach and support them, as I do myself.