“Give Me The Mic, Please”

Royo, Faith Anne A: Creative Nonfiction, Speech

A teacher once told me to use my voice when it’s necessary. She said that I should speak and open my mouth
when I feel the need to speak up about something. She told me not to restrict my right to voice out my sentiments. She
told me that I am an empowered child, and that it would take hundreds of storms to make me stumble but a hundred of
storms won’t be enough to kill me. She told me that I am a wild spirit, I am free and if you leave me in the wild, I
would probably jump in glee. I was only eight that time. I don’t know if she only told me that to encourage me for my
upcoming extemporaneous speech competition but the words she spoke that day has been imprinted on my mind until
now.
I am an ambivert. People tell me I have good public speaking skills yet I’m not really that good of a
conversationalist. I was eight years old when I had my first ever speech competition. It’s still vivid, the moment was
clear as water in my memory. We were given 10 minutes to prepare for the speech. We were given different topics or
questions and we’re given 3-5 minutes to deliver the prepared speech. I read the question on the paper given to me—
how do you see yourself 10 years from now? And my mind went blank. For minutes I just stared blankly at the paper
in my hand. I thought for a moment that what those people said was nothing true. Because if I am really a good
speaker I would know right there and then what to answer to the question. But no, I didn’t have the answer.
Exactly 10 years had passed since then, I’m 18 now. I have talked a lot; I have said so many things. I have
used my voice when it’s necessary. I have defended people with this voice. I have stood up with this voice. I have
overpassed issues with this voice. I have spoken a lot. And I have made some realizations along the way. Your voice
is powerful but it’s invincible when you use it to speak the right words. So when I decided to use my voice to speak up
against dystopia, injustices, unfair government, and fallacies, my words were powerful enough to trigger people’s
anger and defiance. And the vocal chords I hold inside me lost its ability to produce vibrations to be converted as
voice. And the empowered lady lost its power to stand up and open her mouth—it made her totally disabled, mentally
and emotionally. And suddenly, I was behind that room again, staring at the paper in my hand. My mind blank and my
mouth unable to find words to say. People killed the light in the very candle I was holding and it totally made, not
only my vision, but the perception of my potentials I enclosed in myself.
Yet just like the sun, I rise. And just like the waves, I return. And like the stars in a vast night of darkness, I
shine. I had a one-year hiatus with the media. I returned afterwards—stronger and wiser. You know, it’s not just the
concept of time healing everything that creates ways to moving on and restarting, but also a little bit of positive
gaslighting and manipulation that you’re fine even though you’re not, and the small motivational pushes every day
that brings new light. It is your will to be a new component of a person. It is the power you hold from the pain of
yesterdays that will make you better. It is when you feel that you’re unstoppable that you become powerful. And
darling, that’s a lot for you to hold that they couldn’t. So then, when I redirected my path, I became a woman with a
much louder and firmer voice to hold. Too loud and too firm for anyone to silence.
“Ten years from now, I hope to see myself very different from who I am right now. I am loud, but I hope she’s
louder. I am smart, but I hope she’s wiser. I am clumsy, but I hope she’s careless. I am sensitive, but I hope she’s
stronger. I’m still eight and I don’t have any clear visions of the future but I hope that life is brighter and kinder to
her. But ten years from now, I wish to see myself still standing in front of stages as she uses her voice for optimism
and inspiration. I have no clear visions, but what I’m sure is, she would be the very person I desire to be right now.”
A teacher once told me to use my voice when it’s necessary. She said that I should speak and open my mouth
when I feel the need to speak up about something. She told me not to restrict my right to voice out my sentiments. She
told me that I am an empowered child, and that it would take hundreds of storms to make me stumble but a hundred of
storms won’t be enough to kill me. She told me that I am a wild spirit, I am free and if you leave me in the wild, I
would probably jump in glee. I was only eight that time. I don’t know if she only told me that to encourage me for my
upcoming extemporaneous speech competition but the words she spoke that day has been imprinted on my mind until
now. And my eight-year old version was right. I am totally different from who she was then. Yet one thing didn’t
change—my voice.