Quiet Voices Speak Loudly.

In 1965 a woman sat down and created a storm.

In 2018, a school girl did the same.

Rosa Parks was not the first bus protestor and nor was Greta Thurnberg the first climate protestor.

Theirs were the voices which burst the bubble, which punctured a prevailing illusion.

Quietly spoken but loudly heard.

Nobody knows when the bursting moment will be. Nobody knows whose voice will visibly turn the dial. We do know it’s not necessarily the loudest.

Maybe, conversely, quiet resonates more, that we identify with it, believe it, support it, want it.

Rosa and Greta tell us that it’s important we speak, because each time we do we add a little weight, a little pressure, to the system. And ours might be the voice which bursts through. And if not, it matters not.

Because when a Greta or Rosa do break through, theirs is a voice atop a tower of other little voices; theirs is the metaphorical straw which breaks the conversational camel’s back.

Greta and Rosa need you.