For one school day, I chose to be silent in honor of the "Day of Silence," a day dedicated to bring awareness to what it means to hide your identity, something that sadly, the LGBT community knows all too well. During that day, I documented the words I couldn't say. Enjoy.

7:45 AM: And so it begins, the day in which my mouth cannot open to release sound. I dread this day, because by losing my voice, I lose what I consider to be my most valuable attribute. I cannot make people laugh as easily when quiet. Eventually, my silent self will become boring, and attention will drift towards something more eccentric. Although I know this is only for a day, if every second feels to be an hour, couldn't it be considered a form of dreary indefiniteness?

8:29 AM: Okay, so, regardless of what anybody thinks or says, people are definitely more funny in person than over text. It's harder to make a joke and garner a reaction when you're typing words, especially if the person is right in front of you. It feels atypical, unusual, and the worst of all: boring.
Not to mention, I derive the majority of my pleasure from speaking. Talking to people, hearing their voices and thoughts verbalized, understanding them, are all joys I don't feel can be achieved through silence. No matter who says "silence is golden," I will never agree to such a fallacy.

9:16 AM: All the dreary thoughts aside, I have to say, being silent by choice kind of feels like you have the power of invisibility. It's like you're there yet not there, and you can hear what others say and see what they do with a greater intricacy of detail. That intrigues me.

9:24 AM: God. I don't know how quiet people survive.

10:10 AM: This guy in my class gave a beautiful speech on why today, while straight people can participate in this day of solidarity, gay people don't have to. They've been silent all of their lives, so at least today, their voices should be heard. It makes all of this silence worth it, I guess, if it brings awareness to all of the hatred that still exists.

11:48 AM: Well, aside from the fact that I know we shouldn't gossip, when I indulge in such pleasures, I prefer to be talking. Listening to my friends bitching without taking part in the discussion kind of takes the excitement out of being a teenager. I might as well be tree my responses are so inadequate.

12:17 PM: Facial expressions can only go so far. People already believe me to be antisocial.

12:25 PM: All these thoughts are jumbled up in my head and I don't know how to deal them. Don't talk, you lose them. Talk, break your promise. The idea of losing thoughts, feeling them wither into nothingness without being able to hear them, is a mental torture in itself.
Even though I'm not sad right now, I feel a looming sense of sadness.

1:02 PM: Why is it that the one day I choose to be silent, my teachers give me free periods?

1:05 PM: I've found writing to be an outlet for words that cannot be spoken aloud, so I've gotten unusually philosophical. I promise I'm not a wannabe Shakespeare everyday.

1:57 PM: My entire class has left for a play, but I'm still in the room. I'm quiet, the room is quiet, but my mind is loud. It's weird, like I'm in a prison with double bars. Silence + silence = far worse than just silence alone. Now, I'm suffering two forms of the same thing.
I know that right about now, I'm supposed to have a realization and say something along the lines of "now I understand the struggles of the LGBT community" or "I've been enlightened," but truth is, I'm not. Not even by the slightest. I'm angry, yes, that people have to hide who they are because the world can't handle authenticity, but I'm no more enlightened than I was yesterday. Honestly, I don't have to undergo their suffering in order to understand what they're going through. I am an ally. It is my job to listen, to support, and to help, but it's not to equate their struggles with me being quiet for one day. What they have to go through is so much more vast and horrible than this one day will ever be for me.
I knew that coming into this promise, and I'll know that when it's over.

3:26 PM: Four minutes left. I've forgotten the sound of my own voice. At least, I hope I haven't. Oh god. It's coming. What will I even say? How can anything I say do justice to the silence I've endured? I guess I'll find out in a few minutes. Even a simple "yes" would showcase my emotions well enough. I just need to hear my voice. Just once.

3:34 PM: I talked. I didn't say anything particularly inspiring. It was like all of the energy I had bottled up throughout the day finally found salvation.
I know that to many, my reaction to this Day of Silence seems exaggerated, but talking means more to me than many might ever know. And although this silent day has met its end, I look forward to doing it once more next year. Just not anytime soon. For now, I need to speak again.


To all of the LGBT community, it saddens me that you are persecuted and vilified for wanting to life authentically, for wanting to love who you love. Though I may never be able to understand your struggles, know that I will always be your champion and ally. I won't be "silent" until love wins.