I raise my voice, disagreeing strongly with my classmates.
I realize that I have not been listened to. It infuriates me. I am not heard: my French accent, my harsh tone, my messy choice of words discredit me. My heart racing faster, tensions in my body, the frustration, awake me, electrify me. I hear the prejudices I am carrying with me because of where I am born, my gender, or my relationship status. I feel the box I am in.
As seconds pass, I reflect. All those voices, surrounding me, that I have never really listened to.
I want to listen better, to care better. So many times have I listened to myself, my point of view on others' perspectives. As I am looking around me, I wonder what it means to speak with an Indian accent or a soft voice, to wear a veil or high heels, to have a dismissive attitude or to choose prudently your words.
When I am stuck in my own close-minded head, I want to remember to actively listen better, to put myself in the shoes of the person talking, to feel what it takes to speak from her or his world.