Hand talker

She grabbed my wrists and stood in front of me, all five feet of her, white puff of hair, color-blocked shirt, and sugar smile.

"If your hands were cut off, would you still be able to talk?"

I've heard variations of this insult/criticism/observation since I was a kid. My parents used to chastise me for being too exuberant and physically expressive with my hands when I spoke.

"No one will see your face or hear what you say, they'll be so distracted by your hands waving around," they would admonish.

I'm used to it.

I tried for several years to stop using my hands when speaking extemporaneously and found, instead, that the effort to suppress my physical form also suppressed my thoughts as they formed. Result: I spoke less.

In a world that doesn't value confident, assertive, and knowledgeable female voices, it occurs to me after this latest experience that the real criticism embedded in such statements is this:

"Be quiet. Be calm. Your exuberance, enthusiasm, and confidence intimidate me. You should be more measured, more controlled, quieter in voice and movement, so that I am more comfortable in your presence. You're a woman. Behave the way society wants you to behave."

Of course, when I speak in more formal podium-type settings, I stand and hold the podium and follow carefully crafted notes, but in almost every other public or private speaking situation, from the classroom to the coffee shop, from the dock to the dining room, I embrace my natural exuberance that expresses itself physically. I reject suppression and let my hands punctuate my words because that is more comfortable for me.

I am a hand talker.
I have the right to express myself the way that I want.
I will not be suppressed.