In which I lose my voice

Plus latest news

Hi there

Just over two weeks ago, I came down with what I strongly suspect to be the flu. Chills, fever, headache, nausea for several days, then the unrelenting cough and exhaustion. Due to my M.E., my body is really too weak to cope with a cough. I don’t have the muscle strength for my coughs to be productive, but my body keeps trying to make me cough anyway, which means I end up in almost continuous paroxysmal coughing fits, either trying desperately to catch my breath or vomiting because of the force of the cough, and wondering at which point I might need to go to hospital. I dread getting any virus that involves a cough for this reason.

Anyway, the quirk of this particular flu has been that it’s affected my larynx, which felt like it had been stomped on by several goats and simultaneously ripped to shreds with knitting needles. As a result, my voice is completely gone, such that even my coughs and laughter come out like a wheezy hamster squeak, which is as amusing as it sounds. It’s been 2.5 weeks now of absolute silence, and I’ve adapted to using text instead of speaking. My husband and son have also enjoyed interpreting my various mimes, and I like to think my acting ability has improved over this fortnight.

What I have learnt, while being voiceless, is that you can still communicate in alternative ways, but only when people are looking at you, and often they don’t. (Stay with me for the metaphor).

A Troubled World to Shout About

I’ve taken a while to be quiet on this space, partly because of flu reasons, and partly because, like the rest of the world, I’m reeling from the daily revelations of Trump and Musk’s actions, which from here look very much like a fascist coup, breaking laws and the American constitution (not to mention the overt linking to Nazi groups from Musk).

I have been very concerned about my American brothers and sisters for what is happening to them, particularly minority groups of all kinds and women. As a member of the disabled community, I have been appalled by Trump’s completely unfounded blaming of the plane crash on people with intellectual disabilities so as to smear vulnerable people and justify hatred against them, the recent order to reevaluate the prescription of all antidepressant medications, and the ending of the Department of Education, which ensures that states follow through on the IEPs that disabled children need to be educated. I’m sure that some will tell me that as a Brit I don’t have the right to comment on American politics, but Trump’s politics affect the whole world, and the withdrawal of USAid will directly cause the deaths of many people worldwide. And then we have Trump’s abominably callous approach to Gaza, stating his intent allow genocide (which includes forced displacement of peoples) so he can play a round of golf there, and supporting Russia instead of Ukraine in their invasion. We’re feeling the ripples here, too.

But Britain is quietly guilty of similar things. Keir Starmer has just vowed to end the so-called ‘illegal’ entry of immigrants, banning those who enter on small boats from ever becoming citizens. As my friend Inger, an immigration lawyer, tells me, and the International Rescue Committee confirms, the trouble with this is that there is NO safe way to apply for asylum at all. There are no ‘legal’ routes, as opposed to illegal routes - you cannot pre-emptively apply. Neither is the UK particularly burdened by asylum seekers - we receive only 1% of the world’s refugees, This is essentially criminalising refugees. Currently, most people who arrive on small boats have a legitimate right to asylum, so this new law will be denying these people their human rights.

There is a new proposed bill in the UK, ostensibly to tackle the problem of children not being at school, by criminalising the parents. This will devastate and punish the parents of children who are too ill to go to school, or neurodivergent kids genuinely traumatised by an increasingly dehumanised, inflexible, overcrowded and punitive system of schooling. Already kids with Long Covid face awful battles with schools and councils, who are trying to force sick children into school, endangering their health (and potentially their lives), whilst also denying them any means for part-time schooling or tutoring at home.

This government is coming for disabled people, too. Cash-strapped councils are already ‘reassessing’ disabled people who receive social care and finding that they mysteriously no longer need care at home, despite having deteriorated in their health. Their care hours are being cut, leaving them ripped of dignity, forced to lie in soiled adult nappies. They are also coming for disability benefits. Given that so many disabled people are struggling to live any kind of life at all, this will bring devastation and death to many disabled people, either by deteriorating health or by suicide.

In a sense, this is nothing new. It is but another head of the hydra of old evils: hatred of people who are Not Like Us, and plain, unadulterated greed. While lies and propaganda are being broadcast everyday with the aim of normalising wrongdoing (because maybe it won’t affect me, and then maybe I don’t have to worry about it), it is important to return to truth telling, even for our own sanity.

What to do when you’ve lost your voice

The result of this onslaught of shocking news is sheer overwhelm, which is what so many of us are feeling at the moment, and this can result in silence. Even social media has been quieter, partly because of people boycotting Facebook and Twitter (X) out of principle.

What can we do when we feel helpless against the powers of this world?

Proverbs 31 (not the wife of noble character bit), says,

‘Speak up for those who cannot speak for themselves, for the rights of all who are destitute. Speak up and judge fairly; defend the rights of the poor and needy.’ (Prov 31:8-9)

For those of us who are people of faith, this is our calling: to speak up.

1. Speak

This means the stubborn and seemingly small work of writing to MPs, and phoning representatives and signing petitions. Others may be able to go on protests or use their businesses or riches for other forms of resistance. Some of us have greater power and privilege than others, which means that more people will listen to us (and may also mean that we’re not yet directly affected by actions that threaten minority groups). It’s tempting to stay quiet if it’s ‘someone else’s issue’, but God’s commission to us is clear: we are to ‘defend the rights of the poor and needy’.

As individuals, if we write about the one or two things we feel particularly strongly about, together with one thing that represents a minority group who are prevented from advocating for themselves, then between us as a society we will have it covered.

2. Listen

In my experience, it is rare that someone cannot speak for themselves, it is more that people are not listening to them or looking at them. So another thing we can do is highlight the voices of people who are actually speaking, but not being listened to.

• Who are we listening to?

• What communities do we currently not have access to?

• What variety of people are in our friendship groups or workplaces?

• Is there anything we can do to broaden that, or become educated about the issues facing underrepresented people?

3. Pray

It is not the only thing we should do, but nor is it a cop-out. Some of us really are prevented from advocating for ourselves or others, and there’s very little we can do. You are rationally terrified about what may happen to you (or devastated by what is already happening to you), but you don’t have the strength, skills or energy to be able to change it. You are wondering whether you will survive this, and every day all you can do is just make it through.

I don’t know the future, but I do know this: God is on the side of people on low incomes, disabled people, refugees, the marginalised, the disadvantaged. I don’t know about you, but in a society that prizes itself on self-reliance, I need to hear that God is on the side of the ‘needy’, that word that is so often weaponised. So when we pray, we speak to one who has power and loves justice, and who is on the side of the marginalised and oppressed. When we pray, we speak to one who is listening.

My voice is literally gone, but hopefully it will return as it heals, and all I can do right now is rest and hope.

If your voice has gone, if it has been snatched from you, if people just aren’t interested and aren’t listening to you, then this is your time for rest and healing.

I look to the God who invented rest and the God who heals, and the God who loves justice.

Tanya

Over to you:

• What do you feel called to right now: speaking, listening and/ or healing?

• What are the one or two issues that you will commit to speaking up about? (Bonus points if they don’t directly affect you!)