The only words I want to write
The only words I want to write are the ones that are too vulnerable to share publicly. Even here in a place where I’ve written thousands of words about my dreams and regrets, revealed far more than I ever thought I would.
I spent three years as the spokesperson for the Board of Education of the City of St. Louis. Three years of weaving a public narrative. Three years of landing on grenades thrown by politicians and press and the general public. Three years of trying to live up to the honor of holding a place in the district’s history. Right now those accomplishments feel like they belong to anyone but me.
I think it took about three more years to break the habit of starting every sentence with “We think...” or “We need…” I got so used to speaking on behalf of other people and an institution I love so much that I lost sense of what it meant to speak only for myself.
In that way, writing any words here at all feels subversive and the longer I do it the more I think it actually is.
For a long time, all the words I wrote were for the benefit of someone else, shared out of a deep belief for the greater good, lended to a cause. I wrote plans and more plans. Version after version that couldn’t be carried across the finish line by the people I entrusted them to. I ghostwrote statements, drafted responses, brainstormed talking points, and proofread essays. I donated word after word after word.
Words that now prop up others in their quest for more power.
Words you might recognize.
Moratorium.
Citywide plan.
Norms.
Bylaws.
Committees.
Right now the words I should be writing about governance and the election and school closure and all the other things are blocked by the words I want to say.
Words that fact check and right wrongs and set the record straight.
Words that prove ownership of ideas and defend success.
Words that respond questions I never had the chance to answer because no one asked, they just assumed.
Yet, that’s not a winning strategy, is it? Not for women anyway. We all know how the he-said-she-said shakes out. Even when we’ve got the receipts. I don’t mean just me, either. This holds true for all the women who are visibly and loudly trying to push the boundaries of the lanes to which they’ve been assigned.
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I’m not making any promises because getting through these last few weeks of the campaign is proving harder than I thought, but I’m hoping to be back on a regular writing schedule next week.
I’m trying something new. I recorded audio of the school board candidate forum last night and added it here as a podcast. Please excuse any audio quality issues as I didn’t go into it with a plan to share it publicly.
If you’re still deciding which candidates you want to vote for, you can read about my endorsements.
While I’m struggling to put together words, you should read (or in the case of the last one, listen) to what these women have to say. All links are free access. No paywall means there’s no excuse not to read.
I’m 16. On Nov. 6 the girls cried, and the boys played Minecraft by Naomi Beinart in The New York Times
Can we top fighting about charter schools by Eve L. Ewing in The New York Times
The Confluence by Sarah Kendzior in Sarah Kendzior’s Newsletter
Who’s Afraid of Little Old Me? by Taylor Swift