January 23, 2021
Whether they’re written, spoken, texted, or posted, words matter. How we interact with one another matters–in more ways than we can fathom. Perhaps it’s time that changed. Perhaps it’s time we envisioned the impact of our words before we uttered them to a stranger, texted them to a friend, or posted them online.
On Thursday, when Joe Biden was inaugurated as the 46th president of the United States, President Biden became only the fourth president to invite a poet to speak at his inauguration. I say “his inauguration,” because we persist as a nation resisting the election of a female leader–but that is a post for another time and place. Today, I want to laser focus on the power of words.
Twenty-two year old spoken-word poet Amanda Gorman, our country’s first Youth Poet Laureate and a self-described “skinny black girl,” stood in front of the world with a verbal challenge: “There is always light, if we’re brave enough to see it. If only we’re brave enough to be it.” If we choose criticism over praise, harsh, thoughtless words over kind, thoughtful words, we are not be brave enough to either see or be the light.
The scars left by words linger; they’re like worms fertilizing the soil of self-doubt. The sting of words is long-lasting–sometimes spanning a lifetime. Why do we, imperfect human beings, so often choose to sow a roiling landscape of discord? Why don’t we opt into Amanda Gorman’s light-filled, hope-inspired garden. Notice the good and point a spotlight on it. Celebrate the good. Be the good.
I’ve had a so-called friend tell me I looked ugly when I sneezed. Another neighbor, invited into my house for lunch, felt the need to remark that my hair was too short; it made me look unfeminine. Childhood classmates have teased me for being too tall; “Beanpole” was the term they mocked me with. My father criticized the cluttered room or shoes scattered across the living room floor; he never noticed the sketchbooks filled with fashion illustrations or complimented how I boldly dressed to express my quirky personality. Even this week, a stranger replied to an email inquiry with a snarky, unnecessarily rude response. The scars linger. Vocal cords are stretchy flaps of skin in your throat that vibrate to make a sound. Sometimes, they ought to remain silent. Self edit, for goodness sake.
Each waking moment of our 365-day revolution around the sun, we have a choice. Will we be brave enough to see the light? Know that it might require that we adjust and refocus the lens through which we view this world. I’m reminded of a song sung many summers during vacation bible school: “Be careful little eyes what you see. Be careful little eyes what you hear.” If we give darkness space, like a black hole, it expands to absorb and suffocate its surroundings.
This is my reminder to self: Words matter. I want to use them, as Youth Poet Laureate Amanda Gorman did in her historic, inspired “The Hill We Climb” poem, to encourage rather than discourage. Won’t you join me? I could pull countless lines of Amanda’s verse to share, and probably will in the future, but today, in this post, these four lines feel like a fitting close.
Be the joy in our world,
Mrs. Rombach
PS – Read the full transcript of Amanda Gorman’s “The Hill We Climb” by clicking HERE.
