I am here to talk about silence. And the violence of it. How it traumatizes the body that practices it as well as the bodies it is imposed upon. I want to talk about how it (silence, I mean)—and I made up this word—invisibilizes. And how that act—to render someone, a body, invisible is violence. [...]
I enjoy sharing my work--writing, art, pedagogy but I do not like the public performance of it. (Artists be insular as a mug y'all; don't like you ain't know)! So I sometimes correct people when they call me "shy." I'm reticent; quiet; and nope, public presentation is not an activity I particularly enjoy. But I don't think "shy" is precise enough.
Churches held us in parentheses on each corner. A white Lutheran church no one that I ever knew had stepped in. That congregation’s bell rang as we were eating Sunday breakfast and they were usually in and out of the hood before the Baptist church’s organ began the processional of our neighborhood elite: clergy, teachers, grandparents.