I was thrilled when I was nominated to give a Tedx talk a few years ago. I was one of 8 speakers – a mix of faculty and staff at the institution – selected to speak on the theme, “Questioning the Impossible.” The event was broken into a few categories and, of course, working in Equity and Inclusion, I was placed under the social justice group.
Sometimes, having free reign to talk about anything is more complicated than being given a specific topic, so I spent days upon days trying to figure out what would be “most helpful” to speak about. I knew there was so much I wanted to say – I had been in an environment for several years where I felt confined and voiceless. Would I continue to censor myself and let my fears and inflicted doubt overpower me, or would I step into my power and speak from heart? Months before I was set to give my talk, I would fight with myself about how much I really wanted to share – speak my truth or protect the egos of others who would, undoubtedly, see my talk? There would be repercussions – there always are, especially when you say something honest.
Over the three years of feeling isolated and quieted, I had stopped writing, stopped exploring my creativity. Yet, in that last year of employment there, I was shedding all that I was not and the limitations that were placed on me; planning and looking forward to a brighter, more fulfilling beginning. I recognized this Tedx event as an opportunity to, in a way, test how committed I would be to working towards my dreams.
As an undergrad, I wrote a column in the school newspaper called Roses and Real Talk, in which I disclosed my opinions/critiques and reflections on social and personal relationships with my Self and others. I was open about experiences with sexual assault, or various forms of privilege and –isms, and cultivating healthy connections after trauma. Honestly, all I’ve ever wanted to do was write and talk to people, connecting through dialogue and unconditional support. This wasn’t a platform I wanted to half-a** on.
I toyed around with one version, but it came off too rehearsed. I was clearly holding myself back. In preparation, there was one run-through and I had about ten minutes completed of this initial draft, but scrapped it afterwards.
My semester was ridiculously busy, and in the month leading up to the event, I was handling a whole bunch of nonsense, including lies, once again, being spread about me – that’s another story for another day – so, I was kind of in hermit mode, trying to escape the toxicity of the environment I had found myself in. I didn’t have much mental energy to contemplate the “perfect” words to say.
It was a Friday evening, and the event was on Sunday. I had nothing.
Deciding to meditate, I breathed and calmed my mind, enveloping myself in my Self. Sitting on my brown and yellow tweed couch, computer on my lap, I opened a word document and just started writing. About 2 hours and ten pages later, I was finished.
“That’s it,” I said aloud to myself.
And now, to memorize it all.
I didn’t have a printer, and I strongly dislike reading things on a screen – I much prefer to read from touchable pieces of paper. I found some index cards and wrote my entire speech on the little 3” x 5” lined cards. I put a lot of pressure on myself to remember it all, and for hours I went over each line, never getting it all right. As the late night approached and tiredness swept over my body, I took a break and put together a few pictorial slides that I wanted to include. I’m not the type to pull all-nighters – I get to a point of just not retaining the information I’m reading, so I decided to go to sleep.
Saturday morning, I continued to practice. There was one rehearsal session that afternoon.
Coming into the rehearsal, I felt okay; I had felt pretty comfortable with what I had come to know, and I had anticipated that I could hold my cards – especially because most TED talks I had seen, the speakers had the headset microphones. Well, that wasn’t an option here, so there goes my safety net of the cards! There was a prompter front, center, which gave me some relief at first. Then, I was told that it was just to view the current and next illustration I could pull up on the large screen behind me. I only used about 3 or 4 graphics, so that’s what I had to work with. On the prompter, I could put a few notes on the slide
“8 days before my 19th birthday,” Next line, “Define feelings: secure, creative, passionate,” Next line, “admiration,” Next line, “song from church,” Next line, “honest; trust; brave space; intervene; challenge; ego; mentor.” Literally, I just included a few buzz words from throughout my text to hopefully jump-start my recollection.
I had one run-through. ONE.
And I bombed it. Not even being hard on myself; I froze up and they ended up having me practice with my notecards, basically just to time it.
I didn’t spend too much time reviewing my speech that night. I went over it a couple times and accepted that I knew what I knew and it was going to go how it was going to go.
So here we are, Sunday, April 29, 2018. I put on a brand-new dress and dolled myself up until I felt good, grabbed my notecards and headed to campus. As the start time approached, I began to get nervous. Pacing the halls, staring at myself in the restroom mirror, trying to recount my speech out loud – never reciting it all the way through. That gave me even more anxiety. I didn’t watch anyone else’s speech on the TV they provided in the speakers’ room downstairs. I didn’t want to talk to anyone else, I was just in my head. One thing I did not allow myself to do was to imagine myself completely freezing during the livestream. When it was my grouping’s time to go, I was brought to the side of the stage. I sat stage-left, my legs tapping vigorously, heart uncontrollably beating out of my chest.
I was next up. I took a deep breath as my name was announced and I walked center stage. As I took a deep breath, I swear to you my mind went completely blank. Yet, at the same time, my mouth opened and I began… “The prompt that was given to me, the reason we are all here today…”
I just flowed. It all just came out; I barely even looked at my notes/buzz words.
I had spotted a few familiar faces in the audience. One of them later told me, “I could’ve sworn you were talking directly to me!” “I was.”
Towards the end of the video, it looks like I might’ve forgotten my next line; but, in reality, I had glanced at the prompter and realized I had made it to the end and internally, I was like “Holy sh*t! I did it!” But I still had a few minutes left, so I continued.
When I finished, I just took a moment to soak it all in. No matter what anyone would think when they heard my words, I was honest and brave; I felt assured and humbled. These words were important for me to speak out loud; and it was just the beginning.
No, it wasn’t “perfect.” I wished I was in a better headspace leading up to the event, but I knew I gave everything I could to bring life, meaning and strength to those 12-minutes of vulnerability. For doing so, I am grateful.
Part 2:
It was difficult for me to share some of the things that I said. Some, even though not in detail, I hadn’t shared before. A piece of my early hesitation was knowing that whatever I would say would forever be engrained on the internet. I knew I wanted to share it, and certain people would see it.
I posted it and sent it to friends and family when it was uploaded onto Youtube. Three or so weeks later, my dad finally brought it up, randomly, in a conversation.
I braced myself.
I wasn’t looking for a happy acknowledgement, so I wasn’t taken aback when I didn’t receive it. “Sooo….” he began the conversation with. He berated me about why I didn’t talk highly about him like I did my mother (one, it wasn’t about or for you), and how I could mention things I’d never mentioned to him (which I had countless times, but he’d refused to accept his role in some of my trauma). “Tell me now,” he demanded. He was angry, shouting. I wasn’t going to be ashamed of something I was so proud of doing, and doing so how I needed and wanted to do it. I was getting past being bullied into being controlled to do something at a time I didn’t feel comfortable doing it in, just to satisfy someone else’s need to have something to make them feel better – boundaries, people. But it still broke a part of me. After attempting to calmly assert, and failing at having my boundary respected, I hung up in his face and stumbled through my apartment, bawling tears. I called my best friends, crying and shaking.
I think, subconsciously, I sometimes have a hint of shame about my TEDx talk. I questioned, maybe it’s not my best representation of Self. Maybe I did do it “wrong.”
I didn’t.
I did it.
I’m forever grateful for those who have reached out to me over the years and tell me how my words uplift them and help through a tough time. That’s who this is for. At the end of the day, it wasn’t some accomplishment to brag about or boost my ego – it was for those who stumble across the video and find comfort, inspiration, hope and community; who gain a sense that they, too, can build upon the things that may once have seemed to hinder their spirit; to have the strength to face themselves and the world, looking boldly in its eyes and letting them know that you are here – resilient, triumphant, and ever-evolving. That’s an intimate ascension.
Watch my TEDx talk here.
