Here’s to Audre: Speak, listen, transform

Author: Sarah Christianson – 5 minute read

Photo by Elsa Dorfman

Photo by Elsa Dorfman

It’s 2021. Think back to last year and all that took place and was said. You may think of the “unprecedented times” brought on by the pandemic, or how our country is “more divided than ever.” While these catchphrases seem uniquely tied to 2020, let’s be real: the struggle isn’t new. Sure, a pandemic is new, but the undue burden it’s placed on disenfranchised communities just reflects what’s always been going on beneath the surface. And national coverage of police violence and racial injustice seems like a fresh take, but it’s really just shedding light on an issue that’s been present yet ignored for decades.

Yes, this may sound cynical. But let’s repurpose this cynicism into hope, peace, and action.

In honor of The Achelois Collective’s upcoming concert, “Here’s to Audre,” this post will feature some of Audre Lorde’s writings about pursuing social justice. 

I admittedly didn’t know much about Audre prior to planning for this concert, but as I’ve been reading her work, I feel equally inspired and challenged. Inspired because she demonstrates such beauty and thoughtfulness in her work, and challenged because I know that I can’t rightfully read her writing without seeking change in myself. For those who are like I was and don’t know much about Audre, her self-description––“black, lesbian, mother, warrior, poet,”––reveals her honest and forthright ways of addressing complicated issues. She didn’t just write about seeking justice, she used her words get in the face of injustice. And she didn’t just call for change, she discussed how hard it was to really get there. Her words are real; they show both the truth of the world and the truth of her emotions. 

As I was exploring Audre’s poems, “Timing” has remained the most memorable. Here’s the opening of the poem, maybe read it a few times through:

In our infancy of action we were women of peace

come to service islands with no bridges in sight

in the beginning we all dreamed of an ending

but the wars of our childhood have aged us.

This stanza conveys a sentiment that many of us may have faced during the past year. That feeling that comes after the protest marches, the petitions, and the other efforts focused on making a difference. The feeling that questions, “now what?” and becomes complacent and distracted by the comforts afforded by our privilege.


The poem continues:

When donations of soup from my yesterday’s kitchen 

sour in the stomachs of beggars now miles away 

and they toss in their sleep in doorways 

with a curse of worry upon their lips 

then even my good deeds are suspect

Again, maybe you relate to this. One day you stir up the courage to do something good for your community. But the next day, you still witness your neighbors’ hunger, hurt, and hopelessness. So what can you do?

Audre provides one solution in her essay, “The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action.” In this Audre writes about the necessity of speaking through fear, especially the fear of becoming visible. As much as we all try to make ourselves more seen and heard, I think we all can relate with the inner desire to blend in. Maybe you’re the only person of color at your office, and you feel nervous steering the conversation to racial injustice for fear of judgment by your colleagues. Or maybe you’re a white music teacher, and you’re scared to program works from other cultures because that puts you out of your comfort zone. And honestly, this is all especially awkward if you feel like you want to speak up and fight for what’s right, but you just don’t know what you yourself can do.

I think this is why Audre writes: 

the transformation of silence into language [is] an act of self-revelation, and that always seems fraught with danger.

When we decide to submit to the quiet urge inside us to do something, we start to not only realize what’s important to us, but we become what’s important to us. We step into a world that we don’t know how to navigate, but at least it’s the world we entered with intention and didn’t settle into through complacency. 

Audre ends the essay with one final component of transforming silence into language and action: 

And where the words of women [or others who are oppressed, I say] are crying to be heard, we must each of us recognize our responsibility to seek those words out, to read and share them and examine them in their pertinence to our lives.

Sometimes the most heroic step we can take in fighting for justice is simply listening to what people are already saying. Audre gives some great examples of how this could look as she examines the artificial walls we build between ourselves and those who seem different than us:

For instance, “I can’t possibly teach Black women’s writing––their experience is so different from mine.” Yet how many years have you spent teaching Plato and Shakespeare and Proust? Or another, “She’s a white woman and what could she possibly have to say to me?” Or, “She’s a lesbian, what would my husband say, or my chairman?” Or again, “This woman writes of her sons and I have no children.” And all the other endless ways in which we rob ourselves of ourselves and each other.

Wouldn’t our lives be so much better if we stopped imagining little walls between us and people who are “different?”

So even in fear, let your confidence speak. When you’re uncomfortable, find the courage to listen. And when the future seems bleak, take action to create hope. Here’s to Audre.

Application Suggestions:

Non-musicians – Check out some artists whose work centers on social justice! Artists need audiences in order to remain relevant, so your support empowers them to continue their mission. I’m sure you’ve seen an arts event or concert that has ties to a greater mission but decided instead to spend the night in front of the TV (I know I have…). Next time you see an opportunity to join an artist in their fight for social justice, don’t let your negative emotions get the best of you. Even in fear or discomfort or even apathy, you can still do your best for the world around you.

K–6 – Have a discussion with an adult, like a teacher or parent or other family member, about something you notice in the world that you wish were better. Maybe you saw a person who is homeless on the street and wish they could have a warm place to live, or you saw someone being picked on while you were playing outside. Talk about why it makes you upset, and then take an action step toward making a change in the future. You could donate your allowance to a homeless shelter, or start an anti-bullying club at school. Don’t be afraid to speak up for others!

Musicians – The next time one of your friends or colleagues has a concert that centers on social justice, prioritize your attendance. It’s so much easier to spend free time practicing or relaxing rather than attend yet another concert, but if you want your trade to remain relevant to others, you need to make it relevant to yourself. 

Don’t forget to check out our upcoming concert “Here’s to Audre” on May 28 at 7:30 P.M. CDT! Get the concert link here.


My sources you can use for further study:

Audre Lorde’s “Timing” from The Black Unicorn published by Norton: https://wwnorton.com/books/9780393312379
Audre Lorde’s “The Transformation of Silence into Language and Action” from Identity Politics in the Women’s Movement edited by Barbara Ryan: https://books.google.com/bookshl=en&lr=&id=v6kUCgAAQBAJ&oi=fnd&pg=PA81&dq=audre+lorde+&ots=ScdympH04a&sig=8uEgVAsRNNcdNiqlBfsa8NEtMWM#v=onepage&q=audre%20lorde&f=false