A Q&A with Quiet
I probably already know the answer to this, but do you want a mic?
No, thank you. Just perk your ears.
What was it like growing up? Who’d you make friends with?
Silence is my best friend. We’re like two peas in a pod. I grew up with them and we’ve been inseparable ever since. We’re so close that you might even say we’re interchangeable—our teachers would get us mixed up all the time in school. But I would say Silence is a little more intense than I am. We were definitely the oddballs among our classmates. Loud would bully us all the time, but we knew that they just wanted to hear their own voice.
It was difficult, though, since Silence and I are sensitive. Sensitive, by the way, is another great friend—they really understand us, and us, them. We bond together when our personalities are misunderstood, which happens often. I like to think Loud has since learned the beauty of unspoken words, that a lack of words can be a gift to the moment, that what’s going on in our heads is just as worthy as what’s being spoken out loud but just isn’t always meant to be heard. It’s a hard concept for some to grasp—this idea that there can be so much internal thought and feeling that doesn’t manifest into something you can hear. But if you pay attention, you might be able to see it. And if you do, I urge you to acknowledge its beauty, its worth, its right to remain silent. Hey, isn’t that in the U.S. Constitution? Hmph! (*brushes shoulder*)
Do you have enemies?
I’m hesitant to say I have enemies. Of course, I don’t get along with everyone, but I wouldn’t even say Loud is an enemy. We’re simply opposing forces. When I absorb, Loud reflects. When I am inward, Loud is outward. We’re like a couple of kids on a seesaw. If anything, Loud challenges me. Sometimes I accept the challenge and can speak my mind, but if I stay in my thoughts, they should know that is not a sign of weakness—it’s an ultimate sign of strength. Speaking of strength, I do weight training with Silence. As in I lift Silence for fun. You would never guess how heavy they can be! All those gym rats underestimate the power you can build by lifting Silence. I guess that’s our dirty little secret.
What’s your take on introverts? On extroverts?
Obviously, introverts get me. They embody me, or maybe I embody them…? I guess it’s like the chicken and the egg story—who knows who came first. Anyways, that’s beside the point—we get each other. I think introverts are conscientious, thoughtful, strong, and brave beings. Every day they are confronted with a society that values extroversion—putting yourself out there, making your voice heard, being noticed. They internalize and stay within themselves sometimes, and that inwardness is something Sensitive could speak about all day long. Based on what I’ve learned from Sensitive, I would say do not underestimate the power of an introvert—they see more, they notice the small things, they read situations and feelings like they’re written in plain language. That is power. Give them time and space and they will show you depth of thought that balances the actions of others.
Though extroverts and I are not super close, we acknowledge each other. I think extroverts can be intimidated by me. And to be honest, they intimidate me, too, sometimes. But I think our differences are beautiful. For every beautifully quiet moment in which I shine, there is an equally beautiful moment of spoken word that brings to life a thought, or a feeling. Introverts and extroverts are the yin and yang of the world—they each deserve respect. But I will always stand in introverts’ corner. We exist quietly, but thoughtfully. Come by sometime and BYOB—bring your own book, of course.
Some people seem to really embrace you to the point where they’re described as a quiet person. Can you tell me more about that?
Ah, my people. They’re wonderful people, often misunderstood like me. You see, when someone is quiet, it can be interpreted as all sorts of things—shy, brooding, angry, dumb, “not all there.” If I had a dollar for every time someone said to me, “penny for your thoughts,” I’d be rich! Even if they did just give me a penny. It’s funny—I think people want to know what’s going on inside a quiet person’s head, like it’s a mystery to be unveiled, but at the same time, quietness is often fraught with negative connotations. And likely the quiet person is being quiet for a reason, so being asked to say what they’re thinking can feel like an intrusion. At least it does for me, being a quiet person all the time. I like to keep my quiet thoughts quiet. You’ll know when I’m ready to say things out loud.
If I may give a PSA on behalf of quiet people everywhere: assume a quiet person’s thoughts are worth more than a penny—they are likely poignant, wise, maybe even heartbreakingly true. These thoughts and ideas could fill a bestselling book. But the beauty is that sometimes these ideas stay absent from the moment. They are too worthy to simply fill a void of silence. They need time to develop in the safe space of the mind before they can make their debut, or maybe they never reach the stage of everyday conversation, and that is okay. The point is to assume greatness when you witness a quiet moment. Respect it and let it be. I’ll come back to you when I’m ready.
For being who you are, you sure do have a lot to say.
Yeah, I can be pretty chatty. How’s that for irony? I guess I feel I have a duty to dispel all these misconstrued ideas about me. It took a lot of guts for me to spill my thoughts like that. Maybe it wasn’t noticeable to you, but you should feel my hands! So clammy. I don’t particularly love being in the spotlight, but that was kind of fun. Now, I need some time to recoup my penny-worthy thoughts. (*winks and pretends to seal their lips*)
