Summary
Lorde introduces herself as a Black lesbian poet whose life feels newly precarious. Only months before, doctors found a tumor in Lorde's breast. She recalls the three agonizing weeks awaiting surgery, after which she found out that the tumor had been benign after all. Still, those three uncertain weeks felt transformative. In this three-week period during which Lorde felt so keenly aware of her mortality, she regretted not the times she had spoken up but the times she had stayed silent. After all, she posits, people generally silence themselves because they are afraid that pain, or even death, might occur as a result of their choice to speak. And yet, Lorde points out, people experience pain constantly regardless of what they choose to say, and she herself experienced a brush with death regardless of the many times she had opted to stay silent. As a matter of fact, the people who provided her with strength and insight during her period of illness and fear were women with whom she had bonded because of her decisions, at various points, to speak up and make her thoughts known. Therefore, silence offers no protection from mortality. Speaking out, though, can bring solidarity and care, which are forms of protection. Then Lorde questions the audience, asking them to reflect on the unspoken fears and oppressions that are causing them to waste away internally. She wonders if she herself represents some of those fears, since she is Black and a lesbian. Lorde asks the audience whether they are doing their own work, as she does her work of writing poetry. She does not, however, specifically explain what kind of "work" she has in mind.
Next, Lorde identifies exactly what it is that makes silence so tempting and language so frightening, particularly for Black women. Yes, she writes, people might choose silence out of fear of judgment or animosity, but they are likely to choose it out of a simultaneous fear of and need for visibility. Black women are made both hyper-visible and invisible by racism. Visibility is needed for survival, and Black feminists have had to fight for visibility within the women's movement. But it also creates vulnerability, putting Black women in a paradoxical position. But silence, tempting though it is, isn't the right response, since, once again, Black women will face oppression and violence whether or not they stay silent. Finally, Lorde implores her audience of writers and readers to use language thoughtfully and bravely in order to speak the truth, even when doing so is a frightening prospect. She also tells them to read, share, and teach the works of women different from themselves in race, sexuality, and life experience. Indeed, says Lorde, the very words she is delivering are a first attempt to break the tyrannical hold of silence and embrace the transformative power of language.
Analysis
In this speech—delivered to an audience at the Modern Language Association's "Lesbian and Literature" panel—Lorde urges action, not by denying the existence and validity of audience fears, but by confirming them. She acknowledges that well-intentioned people who care deeply about both language and justice might avoid voicing their feelings, since they rightly suspect that they may face dire consequences for doing so. In fact, Lorde even clarifies that she identifies with these fears, in spite of her reputation as a fearless political and artistic crusader. She implies that her expertise comes from the three-week period of fear she has recently undergone. This period came from a cancer diagnosis and a brush with mortality, which, as Lorde reminds the audience, can (and eventually will) happen to anyone. Therefore, the very source of her knowledge is a universal experience. Therefore, Lorde suggests, she is not so very different from her audience. She understands their fears of speaking out, just as they will inevitably experience the encounter with mortality that forced Lorde to confront her fears. In fact, the universality and inevitability of death are exactly the reasons why truth-telling is worth the trouble in spite of its obvious risks. Everybody dies, whether they stay silent or not, so it's better, Lorde says, to die having said what's on your mind.
Even though Lorde begins her speech by stressing the universal experiences of illness, fear, and death, thus establishing that she is the same as her audience, many in the audience are not Black. Though Lorde explains that language is necessary and transformative for all people, and for all women, she also mentions that it is particularly volatile and important for Black women. Since she begins with a posture of identification with her audience, Lorde has now built the trust necessary for an overt confrontation. How, she asks white members of her audience, can they leverage their more-secure positions to help Black women achieve visibility without making themselves dangerously vulnerable? Lorde asks this question, and then returns to this issue at the conclusion of her speech to provide an answer. Women, especially women who read, write, and teach literature, must amplify the writing of women different from themselves. In doing so, they can normalize and make visible the ideas of Black women, lesbians, and other vulnerable women, while also offering protection and solidarity to them.
