Use Your "Big Girl Voice"

My Sar has always had a gentle voice. Even when she was a little girl. People often had to lean in to hear what she was saying. I remember sitting outside of a cafe in Keene, New Hampshire when she was not quite three years old having lunch and every time a stranger walked past, she said hello to them. It was like she was conducting her own little social experiment. (No surprise that she was a cultural anthropology major as an undergrad). Some people responded, some did not. It was likely that the ones who did not say hello back could not hear her. An interesting thing that happened to Sarah's face when she greeted people was that her eyebrows came together and her mouth stayed in the "o" at the end of hello and she never took her eyes off of the person's face. Her head tilted to the right and her chin followed that "o".

It was the place that that voice came from inside her that I knew even then was very sincere. And the response from others was important though she was not discouraged by being ignored. She was patient with people. When she was acknowledged she offered a grin and was satisfied with that.

When Sarah was in high school one of her teachers, a math teacher, had become exasperated that she would not raise her hand in class, despite knowing the answers most times. He created a behavior plan in which she was rewarded for offering answers. He said, "I really need to hear your big girl voice, Sarah!"

On Monday night my grown up daughter gave a public reading of her writing in a jam-packed venue in Portland, Maine, wall to wall, lights low, a small and humble podium. She read one of her poems and then a short essay. She and two other writers were invited to share their work. Sar was first.

My daughter has spent her life speaking quietly, gently, careful not to disturb others, covering her ears when the noise around her was just too much, and there she was leaning into her own words as if sailing, with the attention of others as her wind. Her chin followed her words and I watched the crowd leaning back. She remained steady with their focus and the power of those words resonated from wall to wall. At the end of the poem there was enthusiastic applause. At the end of her essay, there was silence. It seemed that the audience wanted more but then I realized that they too were stunned by the importance of what they had heard. It was a brave and powerful piece, not gritty but thick with poignant observations about a group of people in a particular place, a harsh environment. Then, came a deeper, longer applause, thick pawed, perhaps some cheers.

Sarah has found her voice. While it is not necessarily louder, she has reached deep inside to find words to describe her experiences, some of them painful. Sometimes it makes me sad that I could not have protected her from those people who didn't respond kindly, but mostly, it fills me pride that she continues to reach out, is not bitter or angry, and that she is not deterred by what is hard. She pushes forward, making art of the life she has lived. It was a beautiful thing to watch so many people listening to Sarah Caouette speaking with confidence in her beautiful, powerful "big girl voice".