That’s what we are here to remember, silence.
Silence can be very hard to remember. Our days are filled with noise, chatter from the media, from politicians, from those around us. Most of us have little time for silence.
In all this cacophony, how can we ever notice the sounds, the songs, the voices which aren’t there?
How can we be aware of the silence?
We gather to remember silence. We gather to remember gifts destroyed, people damaged, voices silenced.
The list we read, the names of transpeople murdered in the last year, is bracketed by silence. How much we wish that these people were still here today, able to share their story, their brilliance, their life force with us.
While they lived, though, to us they lived in silence. They were not on our radar, not in our hearing, not part of our conversation with the wider world.
Trans people have learned live mostly in silence. Every queer person knows that being too loud can get you too much attention, often attention of the wrong kind. They know that there are people out to silence them, by many different means.
Are the voices written off as broken or abject? Are they heard as fools, just out to mock? How are they marginalized and ignored, the songs of their trans hearts dismissed as noise? Worse, how are they threatened and treated with violence, social, emotional and even physical, to silence any sound which might challenge the comfort and denial of those who cling to the privilege of the normative?
Voices which cannot be heard create selves which cannot find their own healthy expression. Until we can see our nature mirrored in an engaged, empathetic and positive way, we live in fear of who we are inside, soaked with shame that keeps us down, keeps us reaching for something to stuff the hole in our soul.
Silence means death for those who have been terrorized into believing they are broken and sick people who deserve the bad things that come to them. When we believe we cannot be heard, we believe that we cannot be valued, cannot be contributors, cannot be loved.
This, all of this, is happening inside the silence most of us never hear everyday. It is happening inside the silence we dump onto those who aren’t the same as we are, those whose voices challenge our ease & comfort, those who know themselves to have transgender hearts.
How can we engage something that is as invisible to us as silence is in this noisy world?
We remember. We remember the voices silenced, and we remember that there is beauty, grace and power in the silence of those around us, those who have been trained to keep their own song hidden behind hard, twisted and protective defences.
Today, we remember silence, because it is only through remembering silence that we can begin to hear the beat and beauty inside those who have been made invisible.