The Mute Button
I’m tired of being muted and seen as transparent. Let me unmute myself and have my voice heard.
I am on a stage.
My background is my front set.
What I see in front of me is my backstage.
All eyes are on me.
Or at least I thought so.
But why am I invisible?
They’re talking, yet I’m not in it.
I don’t belong.
I’m tired pretending to pay attention.
Staring at the green dot aimlessly on my familiar pixels.
Let me go incognito.
My menial voice isn’t important.
Silenced. Small. Handgagged.
Let me mute myself.
What a relief.
Keeping my voice to myself.
Keeping my story untold.
Keeping my identity hidden.
Not seen. Not heard.
No need to worry the stares of judgement.
No need to worry the uncomfortable questions of curiosity.
I’m a camouflage, melding into the background.
Let me go further, and turn myself off.
Removing my physicality.
Taking my presence away.
Distilling me into a facade, a mere static portrait.
Just listening, no talking.
No participation.
A third-class citizen.
But soon I notice more blank screens.
Less voice, more silence.
And not long after, there is no voice.
Everyone gives up, retracting into their own shells.
Punched, shot, and killed by the mute button.
It is this time that I realize.
That one voice heard is better than hundred thoughts unspoken.
That a moving mouth muted is no better than a static photograph.
That retracting myself from conversations leads to more death of future ones, dreams, and what ifs.
That shutting you off from my world means shutting myself from the potential of us.
That I have a voice.
I have a story to tell.
I have a cause to fight.
I have reasons to reason.
Because no one can hear me when I am muted.
I no longer want to be muted.
It’s time for me to be on stage.
All eyes on me.
All spotlights shine on me.
Let me unmute.
© Joshua Theodorus Kurnia 2021
