{"id":84,"date":"2023-09-21T17:36:54","date_gmt":"2023-09-21T17:36:54","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/?page_id=84"},"modified":"2023-10-02T14:18:54","modified_gmt":"2023-10-02T14:18:54","slug":"multimodal-composition-essay","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/multimodal-composition-essay\/","title":{"rendered":"DP #1: Sledgehammer for a Voice"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with the idea of freedom. My mind was constantly consumed by the endless amounts of potential adventures, friendships, and experiences that came with the freedom to explore. (Later I learned the word for this is wanderlust!) I was never content with where I was and what I knew, despite how young I was. The best way to describe this feeling was a sense of anticipatory anxiety. A ball of electricity in my palms with potential to light up the entire world if only I could get out there and see it for myself. I did not think that anyone would understand my desire if I attempted to verbalize it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

So, I began to write poetry.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

This became a healthy outlet for my emotions and my thoughts. Soon writing became my life. I wrote every day about everything I could think of. I transcribed every corner of my head on these pages, and it was genuinely one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life at the time. I remember thinking to myself that my journal provided the same kind of safety my head did to my thoughts. The<\/mdspan> same freedom a bird feels when it soars thousands of feet into the air, looking at the world beneath it. The world felt small beneath me, and I would give anything to stay off the ground with my head in the clouds.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

My mom found it.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I could have sworn I felt my heart break in two.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I stopped writing in my journal and began writing in the Notes app on my smartphone. I transferred all the poems I considered polished at the time into this app. Somewhere during this period of heartache, I came across a spoken word channel on YouTube. I was in awe and simultaneously pissed at the fact that I hadn\u2019t found it sooner. I fell in love with every single aspect of it.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

The artist and the way they <\/mdspan>could sling their voices like sledgehammers and then make them as soft as mother\u2019s cradle. The way that they delivered every single line with a cadence that commanded the attention of every living thing in the room. The way the crowd snapped and yelled when a line resonated with them all too well. The emotion that forced its way out of their trembling throats as they created art in front of…\u2026people. \u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I wanted this for myself, and I knew for a fact I could never have it. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

My heart broke again.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

This poet named Rudy Francisco became my biggest inspiration. I was amazed with everything he\u2019s ever written. I knew that if one day I ever gained the courage to speak in front of a crowd, I would want to do it just like him.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

I allowed the fear of criticism and rejection to poison me.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

Rudy Francisco – Drowning Fish<\/a> <\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

Rudy came to Chicago and performed a collection of his best work. I watched him awestruck that I got to see in person what I had watched for so many years. At the end of his performance, I actually got to meet him and tell him how much his work meant to me.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n
\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Despite my doubts, I continued to write. As life progressed, I began to grow and develop, acquiring new mindsets, outlooks on life, feelings, and most importantly new lessons. There is a phenomenon in the writer’s community where we tend to produce our best works in times of emotional anguish and turmoil. I found this to be exceptionally true. I experienced consecutive losses of my loved ones, my first romantic heartbreak, the stress of navigating a predominantly white space as a black woman, and my own personal insecurities. Needless to say, my writing became a lot more nuanced after going through so much.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\n
\n
\n
\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n
\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n<\/div>\n\n\n\n

Whenever I was alone, I would practice reading my work aloud in the mirror. Emphasizing things like intentional pauses, repetition, voice projection, breathing techniques, and voice trembles. This work was not done in vain, but I would not yet know this fact.  <\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

In my art class we were instructed to write a piece with the medium it’s on reflecting the content of the writing. So, I drafted a poem about the progress I made while learning to be on my own after being in a two-year relationship. I chose to put it on a wrinkled fragile piece of thin red paper, with the words broken apart to reflect my feelings of vulnerability and hopelessness. I read it aloud in my small group and you could not tell me I wasn\u2019t in heaven as they told me things like \u201cThis line gave me chills!\u201d and \u201cYou wrote this? ” They will never know the confidence boost this feedback gave me. <\/p>\n\n\n\n

February rolled around <\/mdspan>which of course meant Black History Month celebrations. My high school hosted an annual Black history month talent show. This production was coordinated by one of my close friends. When it came to time for auditions, he approached me and demanded that I perform in his showcase, giving me no room to say no. I hesitantly attended the audition <\/mdspan>and they collectively decided that I should perform at the official show.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I remember being ecstatic and filled with dread simultaneously as performance day inched closer and closer. \u201cWhat if I stutter?\u201d \u201cWhat if they don\u2019t get it?\u201d \u201cWhat if I FORGET my lines?\u201d Doubt plagued me until\u2014 I finally got on to that stage.  <\/p>\n\n\n

\n
\"\"<\/figure>\n<\/div>\n\n\n

On that very stage <\/mdspan>one of the most empowering moments of my life took place. I showed up for myself and I could not help but imagine little Aaliyah looking up at me with those wondrous eyes saying, \u201cyou\u2019re actually doing it.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

I actually did it. That was what it felt like to have a sledgehammer for a voice.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

The crowd snapped, whooped, and hollered as the curtains closed. I waved goodbye to them with proud tears in my eyes. Walking backstage I remember feeling unreal. My friends sprinted towards me engulfing me in an insanely uncomfortable group hug. They told me how proud they were of me for breaking out of my shell and I took their kind embraces home with me that night to savor that moment for as long as humanely<\/mdspan> possible.\u00a0\u00a0<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Even though this was only a high school showcase it meant a lot to me. It taught me to take risks and be brave. I learned that it is okay to feel fear but what is not acceptable is letting that fear stop you from achieving your goals. I recognized the importance of constructive criticism and thoughtful feedback. Most importantly I learned that I would much rather have the voice of a sledgehammer than to be silent.  <\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"\"<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

When I was a little girl, I was obsessed with the idea of freedom. My mind was constantly consumed by the endless amounts of potential adventures, friendships, and experiences that came with the freedom to explore. (Later I learned the word for this is wanderlust!) I was never content with where I was and what I knew, despite how young I was. The best way to describe this feeling was a sense of anticipatory anxiety. A ball of electricity in my palms with potential to light up the entire world if only I could get out there and see it for myself. I did not think that anyone would understand my desire if I attempted to verbalize it.  So, I began to write poetry.   This became a healthy outlet for my emotions and my thoughts. Soon writing became my life. I wrote every day about everything I could think of. I transcribed every corner of my head on these pages, and it was genuinely one of the most exhilarating experiences of my life at the time. I remember thinking to myself that my journal provided the same kind of safety my head did to my thoughts. The same freedom a bird feels when it soars thousands of feet into the air, looking at the world beneath it. The world felt small beneath me, and I would give anything to stay off the ground with my head in the clouds.\u00a0\u00a0 My mom found it.   I could have sworn I felt my heart break in two.   I stopped writing in my journal and began writing in the Notes app on my smartphone. I transferred all the poems I considered polished at the time into this app. Somewhere during this period of heartache, I came across a spoken word channel on YouTube. I was in awe and simultaneously pissed at the fact that I hadn\u2019t found it sooner. I fell in love with every single aspect of it.   The artist and the way they could sling their voices like sledgehammers and then make them as soft as mother\u2019s cradle. The way that they delivered every single line with a cadence that commanded the attention of every living thing in the room. The way the crowd snapped and yelled when a line resonated with them all too well. The emotion that forced its way out of their trembling throats as they created art in front of…\u2026people. \u00a0 I wanted this for myself, and I knew for a fact I could never have it.  My heart broke again.   This poet named Rudy Francisco became my biggest inspiration. I was amazed with everything he\u2019s ever written. I knew that if one day I ever gained the courage to speak in front of a crowd, I would want to do it just like him.   I allowed the fear of criticism and rejection to poison me.   Rudy Francisco – Drowning Fish  Rudy came to Chicago and performed a collection of his best work. I watched him awestruck that I got to see in person what I had watched for so many years. At the end of his performance, I actually got to meet him and tell him how much his work meant to me.   Despite my doubts, I continued to write. As life progressed, I began to grow and develop, acquiring new mindsets, outlooks on life, feelings, and most importantly new lessons. There is a phenomenon in the writer’s community where we tend to produce our best works in times of emotional anguish and turmoil. I found this to be exceptionally true. I experienced consecutive losses of my loved ones, my first romantic heartbreak, the stress of navigating a predominantly white space as a black woman, and my own personal insecurities. Needless to say, my writing became a lot more nuanced after going through so much.   Whenever I was alone, I would practice reading my work aloud in the mirror. Emphasizing things like intentional pauses, repetition, voice projection, breathing techniques, and voice trembles. This work was not done in vain, but I would not yet know this fact.   In my art class we were instructed to write a piece with the medium it’s on reflecting the content of the writing. So, I drafted a poem about the progress I made while learning to be on my own after being in a two-year relationship. I chose to put it on a wrinkled fragile piece of thin red paper, with the words broken apart to reflect my feelings of vulnerability and hopelessness. I read it aloud in my small group and you could not tell me I wasn\u2019t in heaven as they told me things like \u201cThis line gave me chills!\u201d and \u201cYou wrote this? ” They will never know the confidence boost this feedback gave me.  February rolled around which of course meant Black History Month celebrations. My high school hosted an annual Black history month talent show. This production was coordinated by one of my close friends. When it came to time for auditions, he approached me and demanded that I perform in his showcase, giving me no room to say no. I hesitantly attended the audition and they collectively decided that I should perform at the official show.\u00a0\u00a0 I remember being ecstatic and filled with dread simultaneously as performance day inched closer and closer. \u201cWhat if I stutter?\u201d \u201cWhat if they don\u2019t get it?\u201d \u201cWhat if I FORGET my lines?\u201d Doubt plagued me until\u2014 I finally got on to that stage.   On that very stage one of the most empowering moments of my life took place. I showed up for myself and I could not help but imagine little Aaliyah looking up at me with those wondrous eyes saying, \u201cyou\u2019re actually doing it.\u201d\u00a0\u00a0 I actually did it. That was what it felt like to have a sledgehammer for a voice.   The crowd snapped, whooped, and hollered as the curtains closed. I waved goodbye to them with proud tears in my eyes. Walking backstage I remember feeling unreal. My friends sprinted towards me engulfing me in an insanely uncomfortable group hug. They told me how proud they were of me for breaking out of my shell and I took their kind embraces home with me that night to savor that moment for as long as humanely possible.\u00a0\u00a0 Even though this was only a high school showcase it meant a lot to me. It taught me to take risks and be brave. I learned that it is okay to feel fear but what is not acceptable is letting that fear stop you from achieving your goals. I recognized the importance of constructive criticism and thoughtful feedback. Most importantly I learned that I would much rather have the voice of a sledgehammer than to be silent.  <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":5,"featured_media":0,"parent":0,"menu_order":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","template":"","meta":{"_sb_is_suggestion_mode":false,"_sb_show_suggestion_boards":false,"_sb_show_comment_boards":false,"_sb_suggestion_history":"","_sb_update_block_changes":"","footnotes":""},"class_list":["post-84","page","type-page","status-publish","hentry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/84","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/page"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/5"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=84"}],"version-history":[{"count":5,"href":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/84\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":133,"href":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/pages\/84\/revisions\/133"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/eportfolio.siue.edu\/aaliyah-lindsey\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=84"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}