I have been shy since I popped out of the womb on April 9, 1995. In most home videos from the late '90s, it focuses on a sunny summer vacation or Emily goofing around with our cousins. Then I appear on screen, a silent cameo as I waddle across the screen with a thumb stuck in my mouth wearing an Oshkosh outfit my mom prepared and a Dora the Explorer-esque bowl cut she gave me and my sisters when we were too young to have a say.
A lot of tapes are like this: with me popping into the frame just observing the noisy world around me with brown eyes shadowed by my beastly bangs. I was a mute. They should hire me as a mime for how much experience I have with being silent.
In the fifth grade, Mom came up with a way to hopefully help pop me out of my shell: 4H. For those who do not what 4H is, it’s a program that teaches kids how to hone skills they can benefit from such as leadership, service and communication skills. Mom signed me and the two sisters that I am wedged between, Emily and Hope, for the club which we were a part of for a couple of years. The club did numerous competitions of livestock and public speaking. Sadly, we do not own a farm which left us to do speeches at some competitions.
I wrote a speech about my teddy bear hamster at the time, my beloved Sunny.
My cat scratch handwriting was a blur as my hands shuddered in front of a crowd consisting of my parents, sisters, other children from 4H groups and the judges. I had to focus harder on the words as I scanned through my cards during my spiel about how I got Sunny and how she was the best thing on earth. My head would dart up to look at the crowd because I was told it was good to make eye contact. My stomach was twisted in a knot and I would spit out "um" and "like" because my chest was tight. Eye contact was my nemesis when I was 10 and I would look away and just keep reading like my life depended on it.
"Great speech, but slow down" was one judge’s critique on my performance. I’ll slow down when I’m dead, lady.
Public speaking did help me, but I retreated back into my cocoon from middle school to my sophomore year of high school. Students only knew me as the girl who wrote because I always had my head down in a composition book as I constructed stories. It had just been so hard to push against this barrier that stopped my brain from telling my mouth to form words into a sentence. I was censoring myself and I was a polite kid, there was no point for me to watch what I said. I wanted to say ‘hello’, I was just afraid to be critiqued.
By some miracle, though, I burst out of my shell and took off with loud, boisterous wings once I joined theatre in my junior year of high school. From junior year on, I projected in play productions. I became a comedian to cliques. I got aggressive and told the defense where to go as the field hockey goalie.
I have conquered my silence, I adore the sound of hearing a room full of laughter and knowing that it was me. I smile when I know I am being heard at my sorority's chapter meetings. My wings fit me perfectly.
