Nobody is entitled to your listening | Meet Me In The Margins
marginaldialogue.blogspot.co.ukGreat post from Wendy RM about the power of listening and people’s felt entitlement to be listened to:
“My voice matters.” This has been a mantra for the last five years. And, yes, of course it fucking does, but my listening matters too. And what’s more it matters in the same way. It matters because it is a part of who I am. It’s also a force/tool with which I can have an impact (hopefully positive) on my culture and surroundings. Listening can be just as powerful a force as speaking and storytelling.
…
Thing is, unless I am being paid for it, (&man are there limits and problematic capitalist hierarchies to that!) I’ve realized that nobody is entitled to my listening. It is a gift. A tool I have crafted and honed and nobody has a right to participate in my attention it unless I say so.
+
Forgive me father for I have sinned.
I know nothing better, nothing but this.
This stings, and manifests into something wishful.
Wishes are for the spoiled, so I hold it back.
Forgive me father for my hands weave only the strongest.
Forgive me for I can’t love what I don’t acknowledge.
I hold for you a telephone and a number,
Your words are miserable so I write you a script.
Forgive me father for I am not the best nor the worst.
I stand in the middle, my truth sometimes hurts.
You gave me a life, a seed to blossom from.
But your hands were weary of compassion.
It left me trite.
Forgive me father, I won’t act selfless.
I’ll paint rouge on my lips and beige on my cheeks.
I’ll offer you a place, but the rest is mine to keep.
Forgive me father, I know nothing but acidity.
