This is some rambling, self involved thoughts about being a small fish in a big pond. As i’ve become more involved in the twitter museum community, it’s a feeling i’ve increasingly palpably felt. Listening to writers that are so eloquent, thoughtful, self-aware both inside and outside of the museum community is equal parts terrifying and inspiring.
To set the context, my ideas always come to me in inconvenient times. Blog posts come to me when I’m on the tube. Essay ideas come to me when I’m at work. It leads to scrambled jotting in my phone notes, or on the back of receipt paper. A flurry of excitement and inspiration. Published to WordPress, submitted to university.
And then. Silence.
Nothing to do but reread, self critique, repeat.
I wholeheartedly believe in writing your truth, but what happens when it doesn’t match up to others. Twitter is an instantaneous, conversational space in which I involve myself in the museum community. Sometimes, the conversation happens like this:
@me: “my opinion”
@them: “I don’t agree with your opinion”
*Oh god, maybe I’m wrong, I’m so stupid, I should give up this entire career *
@me: “ok, sorry”
What happens if your voice is a whisper, amongst a room of shouting. Beautiful, intelligent, eloquent, shouts.
I’m learning how to be a whisper. I’m learning how to get louder.