I used to feel like everybody and their mom wants to be public speaker, like it was this trendy self-promotion-y thing that people were doing. And because I’m a contrarian asshole with an inveterate supriority complex, I used to thumb my nose up at the whole thing, thinking, “ugh, dude, you are not as wise or interesting as you think, we don’t care about your story, put it away.”
Recently it hit me like a ton of bricks how DEVASTATINGLY WRONG I had been. The truth is exactly the opposite; life is hard and the world is fucked and every living person is made of resilience and layers of truthiness and everyone is actually WAY wiser and more interesting than they think, and someone — likely lots of someones — will care deeply about their story. Hello, oral tradition is a thing, and it is entirely composed of people — not only the Barack Obamas and Steve Jobses of the world, but normal Joes and Janes like you and I — telling stories, speaking a message, passing on wisdom, because sharing words out loud is something that humans are engineered to do.
And what kind of fucked up, fascist, anti-feminist idea it is that I subscribed to that only people with patriarchy-approved, corporate-friendly resumes are worthy of the title “public speaker.” FUCK. THAT. I want everyone to speak their narratives. I want to the privilege of being in the audience when people are being real and open and vulnerable. Because that shit is holy and madly threatening to the status quo.
So yeah, I, too, hope to speak publicly one day as a member of the human species. I hope you will, too, and let me know beforehand.