Letting Go of an Idea

With the Women’s march behind us, I feel that I need to say a few things. When I get an idea, I jot it down in a notebook and I hold onto it until I either use it or I don’t use it. Ideas are something that I let move like they need to. I don’t want to sound like a high and mighty writer when I talk about my ideas, though. Some of my ideas are ridiculously stupid. They’re about silly things like the Bee Movie or a TV show that I was watching. Some of them are so vague that they are an entire genre.
My ideas can also be so specific that they are lines. Yesterday, I wrote down a line based on a feminist speech that I saw on the interwebs. But after looking at the line for a long time, I crossed it out. I didn’t want to write that piece anymore. It was going to be a manifesto, an essay, or something else along those lines.
The idea is fresh. I had a good one. And I let it go.
To some people, what I did is ridiculous. But I have a feeling if I explain why I let it go, some of you may understand what I was thinking.
When the women’s march happened, I watched opinion after opinion flood out of my Facebook feed about what I was supposed to think of the march. Conservative friends and family talked down about the march. They spoke of it as a riot and talked about it as if it had no place. Liberal friends and peers exalted the march.
My personal feelings only matter so far in this discussion. I wanted to write a piece about the feminist movement years ago and how we’re still fighting that fight right now. And this is where I realize it is out of my hands.
The feminist fight right now shouldn’t be in my hands. The fight right now isn’t mine. The fight belongs to women of color. The piece wasn’t mine to say. I’ve written the line out of my notebook. I don’t feel like I can be the person to say all these things. It will have no power if it comes out of my mouth. I want to hear the voices of those that matter more than mine.
And there are so many voices that are so hard to hear. And I try to listen to them. For a white woman, I would rather listen to the other voices than just hear more of my own.


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