Today, I spoke about the Day of Silence as it pertains to the community at my small, private, religious school.
I was nervous. But oddly, these nerves arose not from actual fear, but from uncertainty about my words. I only finished my first draft yesterday morning, and between the morning and evening it underwent not only rewriting on my part but major editing from more than one of the powers that be. I wasn’t satisfied with my draft until 1 am last night, and I felt barely prepared, like I was clinging to concepts I didn’t quite possess, or perhaps not saying things exactly right. My biggest regret is procrastination. However, it worked. Somewhere in the gut-wrenching moments between my final practice reading and the first word I spoke from the pulpit to a captive audience, I became ready. It wasn’t perfect. I choked up once because my still-somewhat-sick stomach gurgled…(not even because I was talking about gay suicide. Lucky coincidence.) I spent what was probably half a second in real time but felt like an eternity inside my head searching for the next sentence on the page once in the last paragraph. But I held my head high and looked for the eyes of people I knew would agree and I knew would disagree with me. I walked coolly in and sedately out, and I shook with the wonder of it all when person after person told me not only “good job,” but “thank you.” There was no one moment of triumph that I could feel; everything was a little to external, too rigid for me to relate to. Yet I know from what I have heard that I changed something and that I broke a silence that I can now claim as my victory.
Forty days til graduation. So I did do something for my queer kids before I left.
:)
