The Anatomy of Silence

While some may view silence as an absence of sound, it can also be a refusal to speak out, or a failure to make something known, not just through audible words, but actions as well.  Oftentimes rather than speaking out, we choose to remain silent, thereby encouraging the outward perpetuation of a falsified notion of ourselves.  This silence through inaction I speak of is a direct rebellion against what we know to be true.  This can be attributed to deeply rooted internalized fears (usually learned responses to negative experiences), or perhaps some societal transgression we’ve been conditioned to believe that we committed by being a little “different from the rest”, or slightly queer, per se [the original definition of which, meaning a deviation from the expected or usual, i.e. strange, but now having evolved into a derogatory centralized focus on homosexuals, thus emphasizing the view of minority groups as virtually unacceptable].  It is directly going against your nature because you fear others will reject who you are as you have, in a way, rejected yourself.  This could not be more evident than in Dorothy Allison’s literary piece, A Question of Class.  She was faced with the reality of her “poor white trash” persona, coupled with a history of abuse, and a strong lesbian feminist identity, all of which don’t fit into the ideal American lifestyle.  Once Allison goes away to college, she is given the unique opportunity to reinvent herself and, in a way, rewrite her own story, which she gladly takes. 

As Audre Lorde mentions in Age, Race, Class and Sex: Women Redefining Difference, there exists this centralized dichotomy of opposition governing the human thought process, splitting utterly everything into two distinguishably different categories, such as good/bad, dominant/subordinate, up/down, superior/inferior, etc. [Lorde, 3].  Understandably, as rational beings, we strive to keep ourselves always in the more favorable position.  Unfortunately, this is a nearly impossible undertaking, and as luck would have it, most people do not fit into that perfect essentialized mold of who they are supposed to be according to this simple black and white world.  Allison was not one of the “romanticized” poor whites of legend.  Her past was littered with patterns of low self-esteem, abuse (both mental and sexual), an internalized sense of classism, and a deep shame centered around her past and where she came from.