Shout

Anderson meditates on why Melinda in Speak is able to free herself from her silence when so many other survivors may be pulled under by it: “Melinda’s trick is looking hard / in the mirror, absolving herself / and cracking open doors to the next place” (212). She tells the story of Danuta Danielsson, whose mother survived a Nazi concentration camp: When confronted by a Nazi years after, Danuta hit the man in the head with her purse. Anderson posits that this is a lesson we must teach our young girls especially: It is ok to be impolite if someone means you harm.

She moves into a humorous musing about the Ken dolls she had as a child and how their lack of genitals caused her great confusion, calling her young self “pig-ignorant of [men’s] precise geography” (222). This confusion extends to the disgust many men feel about women’s menstruation. She sings the praises of women’s periods, arguing that the fact that women can give birth makes them stronger and more resilient.

The shame women are supposed to feel about their periods also parallels the shame survivors of sexual assault feel in the aftermath of violence. Anderson tries to invert shame, reminding women that “shame / turned / inside out / is rage” (227), and implying that anger is a far more productive and healing emotion. She also calls on women in particular to support one another, not allowing their fellow survivors to succumb to shame in isolation.

Next, Anderson addresses women of her own generation who defend accused rapists. She pleads with them to be honest about their own pasts, which they may feel unable to reconcile. She expresses her empathy for the repressed emotions they have, telling them, “I’m sorry you didn’t get the help you needed / you deserved an afghan wrapped around you / people to hold your hands” (230). This discussion evolves into a rallying cry that they ought to be “enraged aunties together” (230), advocating and fighting for subsequent generations of young women not to have to suffer the way they have.

As for men of Anderson’s generation (and others), she addresses them and their fear of retribution for their crimes. She tells them that “The Reckoning” is coming and that they will be judged for the hurt and trauma they have caused, making way for new generations who will never have to experience sexual assault or violence. She also considers thanking and appreciating the men who have not committed rape and writes sarcastic thank you greeting cards celebrating the fact that they haven’t hurt women. A man writes her a letter from prison telling her that he was wrongfully convicted for molesting his stepdaughters, but when Anderson looks up his court case, she learns that he was indeed guilty of the crime. She meditates on the “Not Responsible for Contents” stamp the jail added to the outside of the letter’s envelope, wondering who else ought to be held responsible for sexual predators and the excuses made to justify their actions.

Anderson highlights the stories of men and young boys who were molested by priests and clergy. Given her father’s own work in the clergy, their stories hit home for Anderson. She invokes religious ideals for strength, reminding survivors, “we are legion” (247). She remembers a sexually inappropriate priest in one of the towns she lived in growing up that her peers whispered about. As an adult, Anderson travels to Australia for an event that is cancelled at the last minute due to a local sexual abuse scandal involving a priest that has just come to light. She admires the city’s public support for the survivors, indicated by flags that they flew outside homes and on fences to remind them they are never alone. These flags eventually turned into the Loud Fence movement seen across Australia and around the world.

From there, Anderson considers teenagers’ budding sexuality and consent, reminding the reader of the differences between sex and making love. She also talks about the beauty of the word “yes” as a signal and clear agreement to engage in physical intimacy. When the trauma of her youth becomes too much for Anderson, she imagines Ultima Thule, a mythical place in the Arctic above Greenland where she can be sealed away from the world. She expresses her greatest desire: that she could take other survivors there with her to keep them safe. The survivors who are unwilling or unable to come forward hold a special place in Anderson’s heart.