A big part of sharing your voice publicly is self-trust.
Trust that you can hold the discomfort that may come from being seen. Trust that you’ll be okay even if people respond negatively or not at all. Trust that no matter the outcome, you’ll stay on your own team.
Trust in the message you’re sharing. Trust that the words will come. That you can move through the messy middle. That there will be coherence. Trust that the truth of your heart and the wisdom in your bones will find form. That even trying to share what matters to you is a soulful act.
Trust that courage matters more than pursuing perfection. Trust that it’s worth risking other people’s judgments or differing perspectives. Trust that your voice is valid, even if your perspective evolves. Trust that even though you’re not all-knowing, that doesn’t invalidate what you have to share.
Trust in a belonging that is deeper than social obedience or conformity. A belonging to the earth, the cosmos, the holy mystery, your soul, your creative fire. To sacred lineage. To movements for justice. To the people you love. Trust in the web that holds you.
So how do you cultivate that trust?
Connection.
(I want to name that cultivating this kind of self-trust isn’t always accessible. Capitalism, trauma, and systemic oppression often rob us of the space, support, and inner resources we need. Not all of us have the safety to show up publicly, or the spaciousness to be tender with our own voice. That deserves compassion.)
Here’s what helps me connect:
Rooting into purpose. Remembering the people I’ve met and the experiences I’ve had that have led me to care and act. Connecting to the vision of how the world could be. The possible future I’m acting on behalf of. Staying accountable to my values over my fears.
Naming the legacies of harm I’m committed to interrupting and the movement lineages I’m part of. Remembering how other people’s voices have strengthened my spirit and courage. Honoring the ones who came before, who shared their voices for a world rooted in care.
I cultivate connection and trust by tending to my different parts: The brave activist/artist/speaker. The trembling child. The inner critic. The version of me who tried and failed. The survivor. +++
It’s finding right relationship and space for each part of me and listening for what they need.
Asking: What matters more than my fear or shame? How are my fear and shame shaped by trauma and oppression? How are they trying to protect me? Can I meet them with compassion?
Can I trust that I don’t need to banish fear and shame to still move toward what I desire? Can I trust that they may be part of the journey, and that their presence doesn’t mean I’m not ready?
It’s connecting to my future self. My loving ancestors. Humans of the future. Listening for their guidance and support.
It’s connecting with other people who are also navigating the intensity of showing up publicly to shape culture and interrupt injustice.
It’s remembering that courage is cultivated together, and I don’t have to do it alone.
It’s returning to my body and the earth. Co-regulating with the heartbeat of the living earth. Caring for my nervous system with singing, time with community, baths, stretching, meditations, dance, food, tea, journaling, reading, creativity. +++
It’s making space for my messiness. Letting it be an experiment. Remembering it won’t be linear. Knowing my privacy and well-being are mine to tend, even as I lean into sharing bravely. Knowing I can make choices that honor my limits and needs.
