Prompt: Susan Sontag, AB'51, wrote that "ilence remains, inescapably, a form of speech." Write about an issue or situation when you remained silent, and explain how silence may speak in ways that you remained silent, and explain how silence may speak in ways that you did or did not intend. "The Aesthetics of Silence" (1967)
After being silent for so long, I forgot that I had a voice.
"Can I have this candy, Rahul?"
"Sure."
"I'm going to take this, Rahul."
"Go right ahead, I don't mind."
"You are going to do this math program, whether you like it or not, Rahul."
"Uuuhh..."
I wonder sometimes whether I will ever find my voice and speak up for myself, since I've been so good at being silent. While many acknowledge silence to be a treasure, I find it to be a punishment. Throughout my life, as far back as I can remember, people decided what is right or wrong for me without my consent. People bullied me when I didn't have the power to fight back. My silence was a form of speech that had unintended outcomes.
Four years ago, I had an argument with my parents filled with bickering and insults that lasted nearly for a month. I guess the phrase, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" perfectly fits this period of my life. Having Indian parents' means that I must get straight A's in all my classes, no exceptions. I was in the middle of doing my homework when my mom called me.
"Rahul, I've been noticing that you've been playing more than the allowed time on your phone. Have you noticed your grades lately," narrated my mother.
"Mom, I have A's in most of my classes, I only have two B's," I replied.
"Why are you trying to argue with me?"
"Wait what, I was merely saying that I have been working and I only have two B's, when was I trying to argue with you?"
The next two hours resulted in a back and forth argument between my mother that resulted in rolling eyes and deep sighs. I wasn't able to argue with her because I knew whatever I said would be considered talking back and dismissed as meaningless. For the next month or so, I chose to mask my emotions from my parents for fear that if I said something, I would only spark the flames. Whenever I met my mother's gaze, I would quickly avert my eyes for fear that the situation would be brought up again. To me, my silence was an act of peace to show them respect, but to my parents, my silence conveyed the message that I was vulnerable to their commands, that they had the power to dictate my actions, that my silence was something they could expect from me.
My silence gave my parents the power to squelch my voice. My silence was a form of winning for them because it meant that I was following our religious beliefs that dictated the utmost respect for elders. At least, that's what my parents chose to believe, and I let them believe it. My inability to speak, the silence that I was trained to use in order to avoid conflict or end an altercation caused the most negative effects on my life. My silence allowed people to walk all over me like a doormat because I did not want to risk breaking with my traditional training and escalating various situations in the process. My silence was bliss for them, but not for me, as it set me up for further adverse effects outside of the family - from my friends.
Frankly, religion does play a vital role in my life. Unfortunately, it is also one of the major reasons that I am bullied by people outside my family. Specifically, from the xenophobes around me who believe that making fun of my religion and cultural traditions is alright, because I choose to keep silent about it. My religion, Hinduism, has taught me to be unselfish and to avoid discriminating others for what they believe in. Many people have discriminated me on my religion but I could not do anything because I knew that if I did, there would be unintended consequences. My unforgettable experience happened at the Health and Science School.
It's one thing when someone else bullied you, but it's a completely different feeling when your closest friends do racist actions in a condescending way. For eight months, I had to endure what started off as a joke but soon turned for the worst when they would constantly use a ballpoint pen and draw in dots on their foreheads to mock me and my culture. I tried to ignore them, however, they would constantly text me links to classical dances and ask me where's the red dot on my forehead.
One day at lunch, as I was walking to the cafeteria, one of my friends came up to me and handed me a red marker.
"Why are you giving this to me?"
"Well, you seem to have forgotten your dot"
"What dot?"
"The dot that goes on your forehead, haha!"
I pushed him away "That's not funny"
I was shell shocked and angry in the way he spoke to me. But I could not do anything because I did not want to escalate the situation. I had to close the lid to my anger. These kind of events have bruised me so much that I would think about staying home from school in fear of being harassed. Through all this discrimination I endured, I did not fight back and remained silent. I believed that if I consulted a teacher, I will be labeled as someone who cannot handle negative words. The unintended consequence from me being silent was that my closest friends engaged in discriminating me so much that I felt insecure about myself. Since I did not express my feelings or the pain that I felt, my "friends" assumed that I was just shrugging off their insults. My silence has been a sign of regret. My incapability to speak for what I believe is right or wrong has plagued me with self-doubt between my friends and family. My silence told those around me that it was alright to mock me, kick me, and ridicule me. They would get away with it because I would choose to remain silent. It had not only affected me but some of my closest friends.
Most of the time when we see a fight or someone saying something bad to someone else, we just ignore it and continue with our lives. But, when it's a person that is close to us, we tend to speak out. I on the other hand chose to remain silent causing my best friend to turn against me.
Aaron and I have been best friends for nearly four years. We were next door neighbors, so we hung out a lot. We've shared many laughs together. But when Aaron and I moved up to 5th grade, we began to distance ourselves. Like a typical 5th grader, I tried to act cool with my words and actions. I wished that I could be like the cool kids. Aaron on the other hand, rejected this view and would isolate himself from the others. One day, during recess, my "cool" friends and I went out to play basketball. Noticing Aaron walking by himself, my friends started talking to Aaron by asking him whether he wanted to play with us. Aaron refused the offer and my friend got mad at that. He asked why Aaron didn't want to play and Aaron simply said he didn't want to.
That's when my other friend said, "Let him wander by himself Zac, he's a loner anyway.
Watching at what was unfolding, I didn't say anything to defend my friend. The situation escalated further as they were throwing insults at each other. Aaron kept glancing back at me to see if I would step in and help him out. I, however, put my myself above the feelings of my best friend and remained silent. The insulting didn't stop till recess ended but I didn't see Aaron again that day, in fact, I didn't see Aaron for the next three weeks. I tried to talk to him after school but his mother kept on saying that he was busy and I should come back later. My silence told me to ignore problems retaining to people close to me. Was silence really bliss in this case? Maybe for others, but not for me. I acknowledge that silence can be a friend in most instances. However, for me, silence was the enemy that I could not defeat in personal and social settings.
After being silent for so long, I forgot that I had a voice.
"Can I have this candy, Rahul?"
"Sure."
"I'm going to take this, Rahul."
"Go right ahead, I don't mind."
"You are going to do this math program, whether you like it or not, Rahul."
"Uuuhh..."
I wonder sometimes whether I will ever find my voice and speak up for myself, since I've been so good at being silent. While many acknowledge silence to be a treasure, I find it to be a punishment. Throughout my life, as far back as I can remember, people decided what is right or wrong for me without my consent. People bullied me when I didn't have the power to fight back. My silence was a form of speech that had unintended outcomes.
Four years ago, I had an argument with my parents filled with bickering and insults that lasted nearly for a month. I guess the phrase, "It was the best of times, it was the worst of times" perfectly fits this period of my life. Having Indian parents' means that I must get straight A's in all my classes, no exceptions. I was in the middle of doing my homework when my mom called me.
"Rahul, I've been noticing that you've been playing more than the allowed time on your phone. Have you noticed your grades lately," narrated my mother.
"Mom, I have A's in most of my classes, I only have two B's," I replied.
"Why are you trying to argue with me?"
"Wait what, I was merely saying that I have been working and I only have two B's, when was I trying to argue with you?"
The next two hours resulted in a back and forth argument between my mother that resulted in rolling eyes and deep sighs. I wasn't able to argue with her because I knew whatever I said would be considered talking back and dismissed as meaningless. For the next month or so, I chose to mask my emotions from my parents for fear that if I said something, I would only spark the flames. Whenever I met my mother's gaze, I would quickly avert my eyes for fear that the situation would be brought up again. To me, my silence was an act of peace to show them respect, but to my parents, my silence conveyed the message that I was vulnerable to their commands, that they had the power to dictate my actions, that my silence was something they could expect from me.
My silence gave my parents the power to squelch my voice. My silence was a form of winning for them because it meant that I was following our religious beliefs that dictated the utmost respect for elders. At least, that's what my parents chose to believe, and I let them believe it. My inability to speak, the silence that I was trained to use in order to avoid conflict or end an altercation caused the most negative effects on my life. My silence allowed people to walk all over me like a doormat because I did not want to risk breaking with my traditional training and escalating various situations in the process. My silence was bliss for them, but not for me, as it set me up for further adverse effects outside of the family - from my friends.
Frankly, religion does play a vital role in my life. Unfortunately, it is also one of the major reasons that I am bullied by people outside my family. Specifically, from the xenophobes around me who believe that making fun of my religion and cultural traditions is alright, because I choose to keep silent about it. My religion, Hinduism, has taught me to be unselfish and to avoid discriminating others for what they believe in. Many people have discriminated me on my religion but I could not do anything because I knew that if I did, there would be unintended consequences. My unforgettable experience happened at the Health and Science School.
It's one thing when someone else bullied you, but it's a completely different feeling when your closest friends do racist actions in a condescending way. For eight months, I had to endure what started off as a joke but soon turned for the worst when they would constantly use a ballpoint pen and draw in dots on their foreheads to mock me and my culture. I tried to ignore them, however, they would constantly text me links to classical dances and ask me where's the red dot on my forehead.
One day at lunch, as I was walking to the cafeteria, one of my friends came up to me and handed me a red marker.
"Why are you giving this to me?"
"Well, you seem to have forgotten your dot"
"What dot?"
"The dot that goes on your forehead, haha!"
I pushed him away "That's not funny"
I was shell shocked and angry in the way he spoke to me. But I could not do anything because I did not want to escalate the situation. I had to close the lid to my anger. These kind of events have bruised me so much that I would think about staying home from school in fear of being harassed. Through all this discrimination I endured, I did not fight back and remained silent. I believed that if I consulted a teacher, I will be labeled as someone who cannot handle negative words. The unintended consequence from me being silent was that my closest friends engaged in discriminating me so much that I felt insecure about myself. Since I did not express my feelings or the pain that I felt, my "friends" assumed that I was just shrugging off their insults. My silence has been a sign of regret. My incapability to speak for what I believe is right or wrong has plagued me with self-doubt between my friends and family. My silence told those around me that it was alright to mock me, kick me, and ridicule me. They would get away with it because I would choose to remain silent. It had not only affected me but some of my closest friends.
Most of the time when we see a fight or someone saying something bad to someone else, we just ignore it and continue with our lives. But, when it's a person that is close to us, we tend to speak out. I on the other hand chose to remain silent causing my best friend to turn against me.
Aaron and I have been best friends for nearly four years. We were next door neighbors, so we hung out a lot. We've shared many laughs together. But when Aaron and I moved up to 5th grade, we began to distance ourselves. Like a typical 5th grader, I tried to act cool with my words and actions. I wished that I could be like the cool kids. Aaron on the other hand, rejected this view and would isolate himself from the others. One day, during recess, my "cool" friends and I went out to play basketball. Noticing Aaron walking by himself, my friends started talking to Aaron by asking him whether he wanted to play with us. Aaron refused the offer and my friend got mad at that. He asked why Aaron didn't want to play and Aaron simply said he didn't want to.
That's when my other friend said, "Let him wander by himself Zac, he's a loner anyway.
Watching at what was unfolding, I didn't say anything to defend my friend. The situation escalated further as they were throwing insults at each other. Aaron kept glancing back at me to see if I would step in and help him out. I, however, put my myself above the feelings of my best friend and remained silent. The insulting didn't stop till recess ended but I didn't see Aaron again that day, in fact, I didn't see Aaron for the next three weeks. I tried to talk to him after school but his mother kept on saying that he was busy and I should come back later. My silence told me to ignore problems retaining to people close to me. Was silence really bliss in this case? Maybe for others, but not for me. I acknowledge that silence can be a friend in most instances. However, for me, silence was the enemy that I could not defeat in personal and social settings.