Monday, March 12, 2012

No one else can speak the words on my lips

All my life I've been devalued. Some from my family and most in the Fundamental and even Evangelical world devalue me based on my gender. My previous church affiliations reject me now based on my current theological beliefs. My ex-husband debased me our entire marriage by taking something I did not consent to give. I even get underrated as an adult by anyone who looks down on me for having a four year old, because I look like I'm a teenager.

I'm a wordie. I identify most with words, so to have them deleted and censored, even in the fast-paced world of the internet, makes me feel rejected, devalued.

I've only ever been asked to censor myself once in my life. That experience didn't make me feel dirty or hurt, and I think it was because the control was left in my hands. I wasn't the helpless bystander, watching while my words, an extension of my self, were taken away by someone else.

When my words--my thoughts, my ideas, my hurts, my victories, my stories--are censored or rejected, especially in places where I've always felt safe (be it with my sisters, my family, people I trust, or in groups I've belonged to for years) it always feels personal, even if that wasn't the intent.

Maybe this is my fatal flaw. But my words are the one thing that I own. They're mine. A part, an extension of me. Accept my words, even if you disagree with them, and you'll be accepting me.