The Voice We Hear First

The Voice we Hear First

By Sylvia Stinson-Perez

          I want to start here — not as a professional, not as a content creator, but as a little girl who remembers. I remember standing beside adults and hearing tand hem whisper:

“She can’t see.” Sometimes it was my mom, sometimes it was strangers, and sometimes it was teachers. The word blind would float through the air in a lowered tone — as if I did ot know, as if I was not right there. It was not the word that stayed with me, it was the tone. They thought they were being kind, protective, gentle. But what I heard was something else…I heard:

“This is unfortunate.”

“This is limiting.”

“This is something to soften.”

And even as a confident adult who is comfortable being blind, I can tell you — tone lingers. A friend and I recently admitted that even now, when someone whispers it, something inside us tightens. Not because we doubt who we are — but because we remember. The reality is it happens a lot still. It is like people are trying to keep the secret that I am blind from me… I think I know I am blind by now. I even recently thanked someone who told someone in a normal voice that I was blind, when the other person probably went to hand me something. I thanked her for saying it out loud… how messed up is that. I felt validated by someone recognizing me as a person-who happens to be blind.

          Here’s the truth that stretches far beyond blindness, most of us are still living with voices we heard long ago.

The Labels We Carry

          Maybe your label  was not “blind.” Maybe yours was:

“Too sensitive”

“Not athletic”

“Bad at math”

“Too loud” or “Too quiet”

“Not college material”

“Addict”

“Anxious”

          Labels rarely arrive with malice. Often they come wrapped in explanation, concern, or in casual conversation. But the   tone  tells the real story. If the tone carried disappointment, pity, frustration, or limitation, we internalized more than information. We internalized identity. The voice we heard first becomes the voice we repeat.

Informing vs. Apologizing

          There is a difference between stating truth and apologizing for existence. When someone asks about my blindness and I answer in a calm, steady voice, “Yes, I’m blind,” that is information. But when someone lowers their voice and says, “She can’t see…” that is apology. Over time, apology seeps inward and becomes shame.

          How many of us are still apologizing for something about ourselves? Apologizing for taking up space, for needing accommodations, for having ambition, for being unique, or for not fitting someone else’s mold.

          We may not whisper it out loud anymore, but we whisper it inside.

The Outside Voices Are Loud

          Let’s be honest: the world has a microphone. Social media narrates success. Culture defines beauty. Systems define ability. Families define expectations. Workplaces define value. If you don’t intentionally shape your internal voice, the outside ones will do it for you. And the world is not always careful.

          The world is full of labels, categories, and quick to measure. But your identity deserves more than a quick description.

The Power of Self-Talk

          Here’s where the work begins. It is not our role to correct everyone, silence every whisper, but to examine the voice inside our own head. When something goes wrong, what do you hear?

“I knew I’d fail.”

“I’m not good at this.”

“This is why I shouldn’t try.”

Or do you hear:

“I can learn.”

“I’ve handled hard things before.”

“This is information, not identity.”

“I’ll try again tomorrow.”

          We all engage in self-talk—that running conversation we are having with ourselves. Self-talk is not psychology. It is architecture. It builds the structure of how we see ourselves. If we are honest, some of the phrases we repeat are not ours. They were modeled for us, or Spoken over us. But the empowering truth is that we are allowed to update the script.

For Parents — and For the Younger Version of You

          If you are raising a child who is blind — or who carries any difference — your voice matters deeply. When you say:

“Yes, she’s blind.”

“He has low vision.”

Say it in your full voice—calm, steady, confident! Because children borrow your tone before they develop their own. But, even if you are long past childhood, there is still a younger version of you listening. The part of you that first heard:

“You can’t.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re not.”

Speak to that younger version intentionally.

“I am capable.”

“I am not my label.”

“I am allowed to grow beyond what they predicted.”

Rewriting the Narrative

          In Treading the Waters of Life: A Guide to Self-reflection and Action, I write about navigating waters that were never calm to begin with. Life rarely hands us smooth surfaces. It hands us currents — expectations, labels, diagnoses, losses, comparisons.

But the strength to tread is not found in pretending the water isn’t there.

It is found in refusing to drown in someone else’s narrative.

          You cannot always control what is said about you, but you can control what becomes permanent inside you.

Something to Do Today

          Pause and ask yourself:

What label have I been carrying?

Whose voice does it sound like?

Is it still true — or was it ever?

          Then say something different — out loud if you can.

“I am more than that.”

“I am growing.”

“I am capable.”

“I am not apologizing for existing.”

          Because if you don’t intentionally shape the voice you hear first each morning, the world will happily supply one–and the world is not always kind with its tone.

          Decide today, your voice will not whisper, not apologize for your existence… Your voice will build. Confidence does not mean denial. It means clarity. Clarity begins with the voice you choose to believe.

#Resilience, #Self-Talk, #Confidence, #Disability and Identity, #Empowered Living,

#Personal Development, #Parenting, #Treading the Waters of Life

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#SylviaStinson-Perez