Dr. Martin Luther King, Jr., in a 1968 speech where he reflects upon the Civil Rights Movement, states, "In the end, we will remember not the words of our enemies but the silence of our friends."
Dokta. Martin Luther King Jr. mnamo mwaka 1968 katika hotuba yake akiongelea haki za kiraia alisema," Wakati wa mwisho, hatutakumbuka maneno ya adui zetu bali tutakumbuka ukimya wa marafiki zetu"
As a teacher, I've internalized this message. Every day, all around us, we see the consequences of silence manifest themselves in the form of discrimination, violence, genocide and war. In the classroom, I challenge my students to explore the silences in their own lives through poetry. We work together to fill those spaces, to recognize them, to name them, to understand that they don't have to be sources of shame. In an effort to create a culture within my classroom where students feel safe sharing the intimacies of their own silences, I have four core principles posted on the board that sits in the front of my class, which every student signs at the beginning of the year: read critically, write consciously, speak clearly, tell your truth.
Kama mwalimu, nimetazama ujumbe huu kiundani. Kila,miongoni mwetu, tunayaona madhara ya ukimya yakijionyesha katika hali ya kutengwa, vurugu,mauaji ya kimbari na vita. Darasani, huwa nawapa changamoto wanafunzi wangu kuchunguza ukimya uliopo katika maisha yao kupitia ushairi Tunafanya kazi pamoja kuziba mapengo, kuweza kutambua,kupatia majina, kuelewa kwamba hawahitaji kuwa chanzo cha aibu. Katika juhudi za kutengeneza utamaduni katika darasa langu ambapo wanafunzi hujisikia salama kusema yale yaliyo ndani ya mioyo yao katika ukimya wao Nina kanuni nne kuu nilizozibandika ukutani mbele ya darasa langu, ambapo kila mwanafunzi hutia saini mwanzo wa mwaka. kusoma kwa makini,kuandika kwa utambuzi, kuongea kwa ufasaha,kusema ukweli.
And I find myself thinking a lot about that last point, tell your truth. And I realized that if I was going to ask my students to speak up, I was going to have to tell my truth and be honest with them about the times where I failed to do so.
Ninajikuta ninawaza sana kuhusu pointi ya mwisho, kusema ukweli wako. Nikatambua ya kwamba kama ningewaambia wanafunzi wangu waongee, Nilitakiwa kusema ukweli wangu na kuwa mkweli kuhusu nyakati nilizowahi shindwa kufanya hivyo.
So I tell them that growing up, as a kid in a Catholic family in New Orleans, during Lent I was always taught that the most meaningful thing one could do was to give something up, sacrifice something you typically indulge in to prove to God you understand his sanctity. I've given up soda, McDonald's, French fries, French kisses, and everything in between. But one year, I gave up speaking. I figured the most valuable thing I could sacrifice was my own voice, but it was like I hadn't realized that I had given that up a long time ago. I spent so much of my life telling people the things they wanted to hear instead of the things they needed to, told myself I wasn't meant to be anyone's conscience because I still had to figure out being my own, so sometimes I just wouldn't say anything, appeasing ignorance with my silence, unaware that validation doesn't need words to endorse its existence. When Christian was beat up for being gay, I put my hands in my pocket and walked with my head down as if I didn't even notice. I couldn't use my locker for weeks because the bolt on the lock reminded me of the one I had put on my lips when the homeless man on the corner looked at me with eyes up merely searching for an affirmation that he was worth seeing. I was more concerned with touching the screen on my Apple than actually feeding him one. When the woman at the fundraising gala said "I'm so proud of you. It must be so hard teaching those poor, unintelligent kids," I bit my lip, because apparently we needed her money more than my students needed their dignity.
Huwa nawaambia kwamba kukua, katika familia ya Kikatoliki jiji la New Orleans, wakati wa majivu nilikuwa siku zote nikifundishwa kwamba kitu cha maaana ambacho mtu anaweza kufanya ni kutoa kitu kwa wengine, kutoa sadaka kwa kile unachokijali sana kudhihirisha kwa Mungu kwamba unaelewa wema wake. Nimetoa soda,McDonald's,French fries, Busu, na kila kitu. Lakini mwaka fulani, nilitoa sauti yangu. Nilitambua ya kuwa kitu pekee cha maana sana ambacho ningetoa kama sadaka ilikuwa ni sauti yangu,lakini ilikuwa kama sijatambua kama nilishawahi kutoa muda mrefu sana uliopita. Nimetumia muda wangu mwingi katika maisha kuwaambia watu vitu walivyotaka kusikia badala ya vitu walivyovihitaji, nikaiambia nafsi yangu sikuhitajika kuwa dhamira ya mtu yoyote kwa sababu natakiwa kutambua kuwa mwenyewe, kwa hivyo muda mwingine siwezi sema chochote, kuukubali ujinga kwa ukimya wangu, bila kujua ya kwamba ukweli hauhitaji maneno ili kusaidia uwepo wake. Wakistro walipopigwa kwa kuwa mashoga, Niliweka mikono yangu mfukoni na nikaondoka kichwa chini kama vile sijaona kilichotokea. Sikutumia kabati langu kwa wiki kadhaa kwa sababu bolt katika kufuli inanikumbusha kama ile niliyoweka katika mdomo wangu wakati mwanaume mmoja asiye na sehemu ya kuishi aliponiangalia kwa macho ya kuonyesha ya kuashiria anahitaji nimuangalie. Nilijali sana kutumia kifaa changu cha kielectroniki cha Apple kuliko kumlisha mtu yule asiye na makazi. Pale mwanamke mmoja katika tafrija ya kuchangisha harambee aliposema"Ninajisikia fahari sana kwako" Itakuwa ngumu sana kufundisha Niling'ata mdomo wangu,kwa sababu muda huo tulikuwa tukihitaji mchango wake zaidi ya wanafunzi wanavyohitaji heshima yao.
We spend so much time listening to the things people are saying that we rarely pay attention to the things they don't. Silence is the residue of fear. It is feeling your flaws gut-wrench guillotine your tongue. It is the air retreating from your chest because it doesn't feel safe in your lungs. Silence is Rwandan genocide. Silence is Katrina. It is what you hear when there aren't enough body bags left. It is the sound after the noose is already tied. It is charring. It is chains. It is privilege. It is pain. There is no time to pick your battles when your battles have already picked you.
Tunatumia muda mwingi kusikiliza vitu ambavyo watu wanasema lakini hatutilii maanani katika vitu ambavyo hawasemi. Ukimya ni mabaki ya uoga. Ni hali ya kuhisi mapungufu yako yakinyonga ulimi wako. Hewa inatoka katika kifua chako kwa sababu inahisi haipo salama katika mapafu yako. Ukimya ni sawa na mauaji ya kimbari ya Rwanda. Ukimya ni kimbunga cha Katrina. Ni kile unachosikia pale mifuko ya maiti inapokuwa imeisha. Ni sauti unayosikia pale kamba inapokazwa. Ni minyororo,kipaumbele na maumivu. Hakuna muda wa kuchagua mpambano wako wakati ambapo mpambano umeisha kuchagua
I will not let silence wrap itself around my indecision. I will tell Christian that he is a lion, a sanctuary of bravery and brilliance. I will ask that homeless man what his name is and how his day was, because sometimes all people want to be is human. I will tell that woman that my students can talk about transcendentalism like their last name was Thoreau, and just because you watched one episode of "The Wire" doesn't mean you know anything about my kids. So this year, instead of giving something up, I will live every day as if there were a microphone tucked under my tongue, a stage on the underside of my inhibition. Because who has to have a soapbox when all you've ever needed is your voice?
Sitaruhusu ukimya unizunguke pale ambapo ninakosa kipi cha kuamua. Nitamuambia mkristo kwamba yeye ni simba, hifadhi takatifu ya ushujaa na makini. Nitamuuliza yule mtu asiye na makazi jina lake ni nani na siku yake ilikuwaje, kwa sababu nyakati zingine watu wote wanataka kuwa wanadamu. Nitamwambia yule mwanamke kwamba wanafunzi wangu wanaweza kuongelea kwenda mbali zaidi kama vile jina lao la mwisho ni Thoreau, na kwa sababu umeangalia sehemu moja ya kipindi cha "The Wire" haimaanishi kwamba unajua chochote kuhusu watoto wangu. Mwaka huu, badala ya kutoa kitu, Nitaishi kila siku kama vile kuna kipaza sauti kilichofungwa chini ya ulimi wangu, jukwaa chini ya nilipo. Nani anatakiwa kuwa juu wakati mnachohitaji ni sauti zenu?
Thank you.
Asante.
(Applause)
(Makofi)