Tonight's
#SeasonalSonnets entry is once more accompanied by a 'light drawing'.
This particular pairing was inspired several things, but mostly by a
conversation I had this afternoon with a very dear friend from uni,
about how we feel we have to put up a façade in lots of situations,
usually in relation to accent and social class. I know this is
especially true for me as, because I have a slight speech impediment, I
make a concerted effort when I'm speaking at uni (particularly outside,
or in meetings, or in larger groups) to use an accent closer to RP
[Received Pronunciation] than I normally would - partly to aid in
understanding, but also due to self-consciousness.
I've noticed it more in the last week, because I was with a group of PAs who I've known for years, so I didn't need to work as hard to be understood, and got a bit more North West London girl in my phrasing and (lack of) enunciation...but then forgot to switch back when I went into uni. This led to people frequently asking me to repeat myself, which doesn't often happen any more, but it also got me thinking about how words in general function as a façade for me, and how that's probably why I like academia so much. When I'm writing, people have no image of me, and therefore can't prejudge - based neither on my disability (which is perhaps my most obvious trait) nor on my sexuality, nor my social background as a state-educated city girl who grew up on a council estate. Writing is the means through which I am able to control people's perceptions of me. Of course, if I choose to disclose these aspects of my identity, then the balance shifts - but there is also a power in that disclosure, something I have only recently begun to properly appreciate. For, if we acknowledge that we are part of a particular group and lend our words to its support and growth, we can and will make change.
So, with this in mind, here is my sonnet (written in full awareness of my white privilege, of course. Hope it's interesting.
I've noticed it more in the last week, because I was with a group of PAs who I've known for years, so I didn't need to work as hard to be understood, and got a bit more North West London girl in my phrasing and (lack of) enunciation...but then forgot to switch back when I went into uni. This led to people frequently asking me to repeat myself, which doesn't often happen any more, but it also got me thinking about how words in general function as a façade for me, and how that's probably why I like academia so much. When I'm writing, people have no image of me, and therefore can't prejudge - based neither on my disability (which is perhaps my most obvious trait) nor on my sexuality, nor my social background as a state-educated city girl who grew up on a council estate. Writing is the means through which I am able to control people's perceptions of me. Of course, if I choose to disclose these aspects of my identity, then the balance shifts - but there is also a power in that disclosure, something I have only recently begun to properly appreciate. For, if we acknowledge that we are part of a particular group and lend our words to its support and growth, we can and will make change.
So, with this in mind, here is my sonnet (written in full awareness of my white privilege, of course. Hope it's interesting.
13th December
One constant in my life has been my words
(my poems ‘specially have helped me grow)
So I’ve pondered lots today how they’re both swords
and shields deflecting glancing blows.
For poetry provides me with protection
and offers a safe place in which to hide –
rare chance to choose the manner of connection
with those past whom my wheels daily glide.
Yet even so, such grammar’s not innate,
but, as syntax and rhyme, is something learnt
and writing’s like an accent I create,
lest by other people’s judgement I get burnt
I think, for years, my verse’s been a glass
that masks my disability and social class
 |
| Copyright Jessi Parrott December 2016 |
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