Why This Site Is Here
this was written sometime in 2001
I was not built with a voice that enjoyed the silence of being a quiet, "good girl" because my conscience was too loud and my eyes were watching and my instinct spoke to me and said: this is not fair, not just, not right, not okay - and in the silent vaccuum where common crimes and injustices and inequalities sprout like weeds unchecked I could not live with myself if I did not listen to my own instincts, to what I know is fair and just, and speak about it with my voice despite all consequences, and despite all my insecurities, and despite the comfort that the expected and socially acceptable silence would bring, and despite gaining consequences from people who do not like to hear what women say about women's real lives, and despite losing family members, and despite being labeled, and misunderstood, and called a feminazi, a liar, a crazy person, a bitch, and every other name women who speak their secret truths have been labeled throughout history - I will not survive as my self and have any integrity at all if I do not use my voice.
One bit of knowledge that brings me solace in this world is knowing with our voices, with our words said amongst ourselves, with our email lists, our web sites, our articles, our private conversations, our music, our poetry, our films, our autobiographies, our feminist essays, our academic research, our laws we lobby for, our petitions, our cards we send our friends, our short hair and faces without make-up, our rape crisis centers, our domestic violence shelters, our activist groups, and every other way we choose to use our voices, we as women tell the truth of real women's lives, of inequality, of misogyny, of violence, of poverty, of survival (which is a word we should not have to use so much to define how we live our lives), we tell the truth that will never be printed in popular magazines or on the majority of TV, and we create a crack, which will eventually split open the blockade of silence that ensures our marginalization on this planet.
On Stripping Bark from Myself
(For Jane, Who Said Trees Die From It)
because women are expected to keep silent about
their close escapes I will not keep silent
and if I am destroyed (naked tree!) someone will
please
mark the spot
where I fall and know I could not live
silent in my own lies
hearing their "how nice she is!"
whose adoration of the retouched image I so despise.
No. I am finished with living
for what my mother believes
for what my brother and father defend
for what my lover elevates
or what my sister, blushing, denies or rushes to embrace.
I find my own
small person
a standing self
against the world
an equality of wills
I have lived to understand.
Besides:
My struggle was always against
an inner darkness: I carry within myself
the only known keys
to my death - to unlock life, or close it shut
forever. A woman who loves wood grains, the color
yellow
And the sun, I am happy to fight
all outside murderers
as I see I must.
-Alice Walker
