Most of you have probably heard the song The Sound of Silence either the original by Simon and Garfunkel, or one of the covers, most likely the one by Disturbed.
While the theme of that song is still somewhat relevant to this post, it’s not the core of what’s on my mind at the moment. Hence the second part of the title: The Voice of Isolation.
But a quick intro for those unfamiliar with The Sound of Silence:
The song follows a narrator who reflects on a vision he had “in restless dreams.” In this vision, he sees people trapped in silence — not the peaceful kind, but an empty, unspoken void between them. Though these people are surrounded by noise and words (like advertisements and chatter), no one is truly listening or connecting with each other.
— ChatGPT
So how does this relate to me?
Well, as some of you might know — and some of you can imagine — a lot of things change when someone transitions. There are the obvious things you can see when someone walks down the street: hair styles (usually), clothing choices (usually)…
But there’s also one thing you don’t see — yet definitely hear: someone’s voice.
The song talks about people trapped in silence — and that’s something I’ve been feeling myself lately.
While it’s probably due to self-created barriers, I’ve felt this big wall I didn’t know how to overcome.
Since coming out to my online friends, I thought it was a good idea to start making new friends — ones who would meet me with the right perception of who I am.
Meaning: I wouldn’t have to come out all over again.
That still seems like a good idea.
So when a friend invited me into a new social group, I immediately set my pronouns correctly in Discord and got comfortable.
Then a group voice chat started happening…
And that’s where my own sound of silence began.
The voice that isolates
I’m naturally well… cursed with a deep, bassy, gravelly voice.
Which, for someone trying to present femininely, is one of the hardest things to deal with.
The people I came out to have always heard this voice, because… it’s the one I have.
And with them, I didn’t feel scared to use it. I’ve hated it, sure but I didn’t feel judged for it.
But now that I’ve come out, I feel judged for it a lot.
Because every time someone chats with me for the first time, sees my chosen pronouns, etc., they have an expectation.
And I completely shatter it the moment they hear my voice.
On the flip side, when someone first hears my voice and then interacts with me, they create their own vision of who I am:
Just some dude behind the screen.
Then I either have to correct them, or hope they find my profile and revise that assumption on their own.
So I made a decision:
I’d stay muted in this voice chat.
I could still listen, and I’d just type when I wanted to contribute.
But that quickly turned into something else:
I was there, but no one interacted with me.
Because even though I was “in” the group — I wasn’t really there.
My sound became a silence in which I got trapped —
surrounded by the noise and words of others.
My (lack of) voice became my own isolation.
Breaking the silence
In the end, I decided:
I didn’t want to go back to being that lonely person on the sidelines.
I didn’t want to be excluded just because I was afraid of shattering someone’s expectation, or explaining that I prefer different pronouns.
So after a lot of hesitation and internal dialogue I pressed the unmute button.
And you know what?
That was the right decision.