Each of us has a unique voice, a point of view that defines who we are - whether we know it or not, whether we like it or not. Recently, I had an experience that helped me claim my voice and, more importantly, helped me realize how important it is that I muster up the courage to use it.
As an introvert, one who scores high on a scale of analyticality, (I believe I just made that word up, but it sounds somewhat musical, doesn't it?) and especially as one who grew up as one of the "good girls" the "bright girls" it has taken me an inordinately long time to identify my unique voice. Amid the din of what I should think/believe, how I should behave and the fear of the consequences (and judgments) of non-conformity, I have stifled all thoughts about what might make me special, what I might have to contribute to the world that is mine alone to contribute.
My voice has tried to make itself heard many times, occasionally through emotional outbursts, but most often through my art and writing. Through artistic expression, I could explore expressing my voice in a cloak-and-dagger kind of way, conceptually.
But earlier this month, my therapist pointed out that I was often on the defensive, convinced that I would be judged for using my voice and protecting myself by adopting the stand of "it doesn't matter" or "they don't have to accept me" rather than seeing and owning what it is that's special about what I bring to any dynamic. So I left that meeting deciding to keep my eye on what was special about me.
The next day, I flew to Ottawa, Ontario Canada for the third in my series of Organization Development courses. These classes are always intense and always rich with learning. This one helped me find my voice.
The second day we were put in groups to work on a project with a real client from a real organization. I have always hated group projects, because I either ended up doing all the work or ended up stifled by know-it-alls who took over the project (and it never ended being as good as I knew it could have been had my ideas been incorporated.) Boy did this exercise bring all that back. I was in a group with the two of biggest, loudest know-it-all extroverts in the class, and one very take-charge but also very sensitive younger person.
We decided the day before we met the client that I would do the first session with him "in the fishbowl" (meaning in the middle of the circle in front of everyone else.) I wanted to be stretched, and agreed to this. But the next day, after he had given the presentation on his case to the class, I was so overwhelmed with the minutiae he had presented that fear took over. "I have no idea what he wants," my mind said. But when I got back to my group, they all seemed to know exactly what to do, what to ask. They started peppering me with things to ask, which only served to overwhelm me. I broke down and started to cry. I had a very strange feeling in my gut, and I just didn't feel that they way I was being pushed to go was the right way to go. So someone else took over...and my group floundered along.
As the day wore on, I continued to be bothered by the sense of overwhelm I'd had initially. The gnawing feeling of not knowing, not being clear on what the client wanted kept at me but I continued to feel shut down my group's strong personalities. By the last exercise of the day, I decided I couldn't keep my feelings to myself anymore. As we were designing an exercise to work with the client on in the fishbowl, I finally spoke up. And they listened. And I was right on target. NO one in the room knew what the client wanted, because no one had asked. We designed an exercise that, while poorly executed in spots, actually got us to the answer...the answer to the question that my gut had been wanting me to voice from the beginning. I broke down earlier because I wasn't feeling heard....but I wasn't hearing myself either.
The next day, as we were talking about what happened, my group told me to speak up more. They said that every time I did, I was strategic and on-point. I had been afraid I wouldn't be heard, even if I was right. Then, I saw that it wasn't about being right. It was about what I brought that was special, my unique point of view and my way of using my voice that had an impact.
People may not always hear what I say. That's the risk I run by using my voice. But they certainly won't hear my voice if I don't use it.
