In the 2010 movie The Kings Speech, theres a scene where King George VI is holding a

heated debate with Lionel Logue, his speech therapist. Logue had sat on King Georges throne while
he wasnt looking, and then refused to leave. Listen to me! King George yelled desperately after
several failed attempts to coerce Logue off his seat.

Why would I waste my time listening to you? Logue replied.

Because I have a voice!

Silence. Yes, you do, Logue concluded, and then got up off the throne.

In December 2016, I chanced upon Kendrick Lamars album, To Pimp a Butterfly. I dont
know how many times Ive listened to it, but somewhere between the 100th and 200th playback of
the album did that scene from The Kings Speech click with me. TPAB was an album about the pitfalls
and pressures that the artist experienced during his time of newfound fame. While rapping over
jazzy, sinister-sounding beats, Kendrick narrates his journey from immense pride to deep depression,
and how he clambered his way out and found self-love. He talks about how he found himself stuck in
a hotel room, binge drinking alcohol, screaming curses toward himself. He expresses the regret he
felt from refusing to donate a dollar to a beggar he met in South Africa. He reiterates the words his
mother had said to him the day he visited her, and how these words tore down his defenses and
reduced him to a scared child. All these he discusses in great detail, and in the end, embraces as
experiences of which he came out wiser than ever.

For the longest time, I felt like I didnt have a voice. When it came to nationwide or global
issues, I found myself perusing several articles about a certain issue, getting bored, and then
dropping them, articles and issue altogether. While checking social media, I would see my peers
write lengthy posts on their political stances regarding that same issue I had dropped only moments
before, and then I would witness the debates that may have ensued in the comments sections of
these posts. At this point I would start feeling guilt seep in, guilt that came from my lack of interest
toward the issue at hand, this lack being attributed to ignorance and complacency on my part. This
reoccurring scenario bred in me a fear of expressing my opinion, since from then on I had begun to
think that whatever opinions I had lacked the thorough article-reading and contemplation that I was
so sure everyone else had done before formulating their posts or comments for debate.

This kind of thinking began to branch out to my other interactions with people. I would take
it personally whenever someone would interrupt me mid-sentence. I interpreted it as a form of
feedback telling me that what I was saying was not interesting or substantial enough for whomever I
was conversing with. I refrained from asking my parents, teachers and peers questions for fear that I
would offend them or sound stupid. I was afraid of telling people about this insecurity of mine
because of the chance that they wouldnt take it seriously, or even more humiliating, brush it off and
say other people are going through worse. Essentially, for a long time, I believed that I didnt deserve
to be heard.

When Kendrick Lamar - a well-esteemed, tough-as-nails rapper who grew up in the

impoverished streets of Compton, California, where every day was spent either worrying about
being subjected to police brutality or being killed by a desperate lowlife exposed himself as
vulnerable, insecure, and scared, and wore these traits like battle scars instead of chinks in his
armor, he gave me back my voice. It may be true that there were times in the past that I was not as
politically aware or engaging as I would have liked to be, but I have emulated Kendricks example
and embraced whatever shortcomings I may possess.

My newfound confidence in wielding my voice has significantly changed my outlook. In the

span of half a year, Ive met more people, made more friends, and participated in more arguments. I
have realized that the primary objective of arguments should be geared more toward sharing ideas
and points on a topic rather than proving that one side is better than the other, and thanks to this
realization, I am less afraid of not being substantial enough and more encouraged to learn new ideas
I had never considered before.

In the present, I am still developing the confidence to use my voice. Sometimes, in the
middle of conversations with other people, I would worry about whether I was interesting enough to
talk to. However, this worry has been occurring less and less recently, and in its place I feel more and
more encouraged to express myself freely and to the best of my abilities. Every time theres
something I want to say, I remind myself that I can and will say it because, alongside King George,
Kendrick Lamar, the deaf, the mute, and everyone else worthy of dignity and respect, I, too, have a
voice.