To Those who Have Lost Their Voice

I recently took my daughter to see the new release of Disney’s The Little Mermaid and King Triton said something towards the end of the film that left my jaw on the ground in the best of ways.

Spoiler alert: If you’ve never seen the movie, I’m about to discuss the ending.

After the battle between Ursula and King Triton, Ariel’s voice was ultimately restored along with King Triton’s authority over the sea. There’s a precious moment between the King and his daughter where King Triton offers the following apology:

I’m sorry you had to lose your voice to be heard, but I’m listening now.

She begins to speak freely and ultimately, the King blesses his daughter’s love interest, but the apology has stuck close in my heart for weeks. There’s a variety of reasons why people “lose” their voice: mental health struggles, financial struggles, relationship struggles, bullying, the current assault on women’s rights, LGBTQIA+ rights, or the rights of my friends of color, disability, educational neglect. These losses are only the tip of the iceberg, but all carry weight. All can feel like they “steal” the voices of their victims.

I can recall the years I spent fighting for a medical diagnosis to accompany my absurd and seemingly unconnected symptoms that were beginning to impact my day-to-day life. I saw doctor after doctor who insisted these “ailments” were nothing more than my hyperactive anxiety and my four-inch heels. Blood test after imaging after consult came back “normal.” The pain and the symptoms that were as real as the beat of my heart were repeatedly dismissed and ignored and I certainly lost my voice in utter defeat. I could speak, but no one would listen. Eventually, I quit speaking, because I internalized that my voice didn’t carry the sustenance of my friends or peers. My voice was less important, less truthful, and less deserving of being heard, much less believed. It took years of therapy to regain my confidence; years of someone saying to me, “I’m listening now.”

So, dear one who feels devoid of voice, I hear you, or at least I want to. I hear you, and I believe you. I hear you, and your voice matters. I hear you, and your story is sacred. I hear you, and I want to hear your voice again and again and again because your voice has an important place in this world. And, I’m sorry. I’m sorry you had to lose your voice to be heard, but I’m listening now. We’re listening now.

Please, speak.