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Annmary Chalakkal

A Voice for the Voiceless

By Annmary Chalakkal, Loreto College Ballarat

 

You turn on the TV and a breaking news headline tugs at your heart “Taliban forbid Women from Universities”. And it kicks in. It starts in your gut, it simmers, and bubbles before the sheer injustice overwhelms you. You desperately want to speak out, and be the much needed voice for the voiceless.

The call for justice is straightforward, people are suffering, they need help, and here in your privileged positions you have the opportunity to be a voice that shines light on the dire state of the world. It’s commendable, noble even until you realize that your passionate outbursts overpowers the quiet but ever present voice in the corner that says “ I deserve my education”.

As the media expose the conditions of marginalized communities far too often focus has centered the reaction and outcry of those existing beyond them. Take the example of the ongoing crisis for women within Afghanistan. In late December last year, the Taliban issued a statement that all Afghan women are banned from attending university. Yet amongst the ruckus of international uproar from politicians to social media enthusiasts, the sounds of heartbreak endured by over 2 million women and young girls were mere noises in the background.

Following the statement countless articles surfaced featuring snippets of quotes from women and men from the Universities in an outcry, with students reporting to the Guardian "I felt like I was dead”. But these intimate and personal revelations weren’t the headliners, rather the frenzy of fury from those removed from the situation. And this is no new phenomenon.

An Australian National University research reported The Black Lives matter movement saw over 118 million tweets in 2020 and 2021. The initial movements were led by Black activists, they demanded structural change for issues stemming back centuries. The movement was massive, and unfortunately with its size the core messages promoted by those most dearly affected subsided into the background. Suddenly what was ruled the hallmark of activism became hashtags and merchandise materia, diluting the global grassroot movement into another trend. This is the fate that plagues many of the so-called “voiceless” of our society as they attempt to break through their concerns.

And on almost every level we see this struggle between well meaning individuals or groups genuinely wishing to speak out for those we deem meek and unable- all without considering the aftermath of our actions. Our savior mentality does more harm than good. And I can personally attest to that. In presenting this speech I continue with a level of hypocrisy, as I  implore  you to consider the consequence for being a voice for the voiceless. I momentarily assume that role in speaking out on matters that should concern all of us- even if I may not be directly affected.

However as I’ve learnt there are spaces we each occupy and our own experiences should pave the foundation to a sense of mutual empathy. As a young brown girl I fear for the future knowing I’ll fight glass ceiling myths that aren’t myths and be expected to act surprised when Universities like Monash report my resume could receive 57.4%  fewer callbacks due to my ‘unique’ sounding last name. My own identity comes with its battles, but I want the power and agency to voice them myself. So If my words only carry weight through someone else then are you really listening to me? So today I speak not on behalf of or over anyone, rather I channel my voice to inform so we can all learn how to better empower and amplify those that need to be heard.

Our lives are unique, filled with distinct experiences, so who could better narrate our stories if not ourselves? The same is that of the marginalized groups we seek to speak for. Sharing our concerns for the issues of the world whilst important should not be at the expense of those suffering. Our heroic endeavors to support often result in stifling those seeking to speak aloud.

Additionally, by affirming the position of being such a voice,  we propagate structures that deem certain voices and certain lives are valued over others and hence inherently worthy of being heard. In maintaining this belief and practice, we reinforced our status. Pushing down the very people we seek to aid.

In striving to be advocates for the unheard we dominate over their voice, as we speak up, and speak for those who we deem are not speaking for themselves. But, in reality, they don’t need a voice. They already have one. As novelist Arundhati Roy notes, “There’s really no such thing as ‘the voiceless.’ There are only the deliberately silenced, or the preferably unheard.”

The fact is that no one is voiceless. The problem lies in the fundamental structures of our societies that are not built to support the truths of all.  And that needs to change. We need societies where individuals can speak for themselves—societies in which all voices can be heard and carry equal weight. Not in the form of symbolic representation, but in actual substance.

The recently contended issue of the Indigenous voice to parliament is an exemplary representation of a change seeking to empower historically marginalized communities.

The current proposed Law: “to alter the Constitution to recognize the First Peoples of Australia by establishing an Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander Voice '' seeks to acknowledge the past, recognize the need for action and most importantly prevent endeavors for policy reform to be shut down by successive governments.

Linda Burney the Minister for Indigenous Australians claims “It’s about drawing a line on the poor outcomes from the long legacy of failed programs and broken policies, and listening to Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander people”. The much-needed change will be empowering, culturally informed and most crucially the authentic voice of the people suppressed by our nation's bias.

According to the Australian Bureau of statistics it’s a bias that sees Indigenous people constitute 32% of the national prison population, 42.2 percent of indigenous youth are in out-of-home care and record the lowest educational outcomes. With a history marked by dispossession, this bill presents the chance for a community forced to be silent for generations  to speak out and loudly demand rightful change.

And its substantial changes such as this that we should strive to achieve. If our intentions are to truly support others then we must learn the spaces that we occupy and understand that there are places and issues that require our voices and others that do not. As a society we must empower voices that carry the truth of their plight and to do so can be as simple as truly listening to those on the margins.

In the ruckus of international uproar, ask yourself - who am I truly hearing? What do they say? What do they need? In closely examining such questions we put aside the politicians and polls and for the first time have the capacity to understand the plight of others. This is what we need to endeavor towards. For a brighter world filled with equal say our arms should extend in solidarity so that the quiet voice in the corner demanding her education is brought forward for all to hear. Instead of being a “voice for the voiceless” our labors should be put towards amplifying the voice of those at the heart of the conflict, the true narrators of their circumstance.