I lay in the dark, unable to ignore the knot of fear that had been tightening in me all day- well, all my life really, since the day Dad told me about the Silencing.
My Silencing appointment was tomorrow. Today had been the most beautiful day of my life, planned and arranged by my Mom and sisters with the utmost care and love. My gorgeous white silk chiffon dress glimmered in the dark corner of my bedroom, I could see it if I raised my head from the pillow. The food had been amazing, and as a surprise, Dad had arranged a performance from one of the most popular group of local female Vocalists, who had been beyond heavenly. With Dad’s high paid job as a Teacher, money was never a problem in our household, and I had had the party most girls in my neighbourhood could only dream of.
But it was over now. As I lay there, thinking about the procedure tomorrow which would permanently disable my vocal chords and silence me forever, the waves of fear breaking over me grew stronger. There was a light tap at my bedroom door. I raised my head, and called softly “Yes?” The door opened and my Mom glided quietly in. She was also dressed for bed, and despite the dark, the tattoo along her neck and throat was plainly visible. She had just chose a plain line, as I would. Many Silenced women choose elaborate designs for the neck tattoo they received after their Silencing, but I wanted the same plain line across my neck as Mom had.
She reached out for my hand. I whispered “Mom I’m scared”.
She started typing on her pad, which was always with her. “Please don’t be scared Eliza. It’s over so soon. And it doesn’t hurt one bit- just the tattoo afterwards, a little bit”.
I read the glowing words. Then I said, “Mom, I don’t want to, I don’t want to lose my voice.”She looked so sad as she typed furiously. “Eliza, your Dad has explained why it’s like this here. You’ve studied examples of countries which don’t have Silencing - you know how terrible and miserable they are. We are such a peaceful, orderly society since we started Silencing women. You know that!”
My Dad yelled loudly “Louisa? Are you coming to bed?” Mom bent down for one last hurried kiss, and then left my room. I was alone with my fears again.
I had wanted to become a Teacher, like my Dad. I had grown up watching him prepare lesson plans, grade assignments with his thick chunky red pens, discussing course content and pedagogy with his colleagues loudly and passionately. I was enthralled by it all and knew, as indeed my Dad often said, there was nothing more noble and worthwhile than teaching and shaping the mind of the young. No wonder only men in our country were entrusted to be Teachers. How ridiculous and backwards were those countries with their female teachers - and unSilenced women- always mired in instability and chaos.
I remembered my Mom laughing until the tears ran down her face when I had first told her about wanting to become like Teacher “Just like Daddy”. Then mom had gathered me in her arms and sobbed as if her heart had broken.
I was told about the Silencing a short while after that.
I would still go to school, become educated and have a career- in fact my occupation profile was finalized- I would become a software engineer, and as of next term, I would be studying programming almost exclusively. Occupational profiles had to be finalized before the Silencing, in case there were women with exceptional singing voices who would be allowed to keep their vocal chords, like those at my party earlier that day. Oh they sounded heavenly.
All the other women of my country were Silenced, when they were the right age.
I understood why it was necessary. Dad had explained it all carefully: the history, the benefits to society, the evolution from a symbolic tattoo along the throat, to an actual, painless clinical procedure which disabled the vocal chords permanently. I was so lucky I had a Teacher Dad who took the time to explain things so beautifully and clearly to me - other girls would usually just get an official brochure with the date and time of their Silencing appointment, although schools sometimes included educational material on Silencing. However, as Dad said, it was very important that it was taught correctly, with proper context, otherwise it wouldn’t be understood properly. That’s why Teaching was such an important job.
It didn’t used to be like that, and it still wasn’t like that in so many other countries, where women jabbered, chattered, gossiped, wheedled, manipulated men and told stories and yammered and protested and wanted this and that and the other- those societies have been always in chaos.
But all these thoughts couldn’t stop my fear for tomorrow and the Silencing.
Suddenly I heard a faint tap tap at my window. I sat up, putting aside my childish fears and opened the curtain. An adult woman was behind the glass, smiling at me. Her neck tattoo was clearly visible in the moonlight, a beautiful design of roses and thorns.
I didn’t care about safety- my dread for tomorrow had desensitized. I threw open the window. “Who are you?” The woman opened her mouth and spoke, quietly, but still spoke, her voice coming from her lips. “Hello Eliza. Will you come away with me?”
I had never seen a woman of that age, with a neck tattoo, who could talk. My jaw dropped. “Wha…?”
She started speaking rapidly. “Eliza, we are the resistance. We are women fighting the Silencing. Will you join us? I can’t explain much now, but if you want to, you have to come away with me now. It will be a hard life- but you won’t lose your voice, at least, not tomorrow you won’t.”
I was silent for a bit. I felt the dreadful fear of the last few years shifting a bit, giving way to a new emotion- hope? excitement? I looked at the aged face of this talking woman with the tattoed roses on her throat, and nodded dumbly.
She smiled at me. “Excellent. Follow me. No- you don’t need anything, we have everything you will need- a car is waiting. Not even shoes. Just move fast.”
My heart beating fast, I followed my new friend, and climbed out of the window.
And that is the story of how I joined the resistance of my country.