I am one of those cynics who will always swear by Murphy's Law: If it can go wrong, it will go wrong. An additional corollary to this law includes: friends come and go, but enemies accumulate. However, my personal favourite has to be the following: If you try to please everyone, no one is going to like it. When considering the final element of Murphy's Code, it tends to speak to the overachievers, those with a martyrdom complex, and to the sarcastic jerks who spend their days hopelessly trying to edit their internal monologues... Okay, maybe the final bit is just me.

In my experience, my attempts to please everyone have ended in abject failure. They also ended with the nasty realisation that I have silenced my opinions for the sake of social propriety. My mother would tell me that the silencing of my inner vitriol proves that I am, in fact, civilised. She would also take it as a sign that she has raised a fully functioning female who won't be at the wrong end of a lynch mob. However, the older I get, it becomes easier to identify those who are being silenced for similar reasons - and it makes me uneasy. In this case, it wouldn't be ladylike for me (and for the other ladies who are constantly editing their internal monologues) to satirise politics, social convention, or imbalances of power. I can sense her apprehension when I answer her polite questions honestly. Though my reflexive sarcasm harms no one, and actively avoids raining on parades, she views it as deviant. As opposed to being an asset, or marketable skill (think Jon Stewart and the gents who did Blackadder), my ability to banter is a liability. I initially responded to the subtle attempts to curtail my opinions by sorting my social life into separate spheres: I would say as little as possible around my mum and sister, and let a few select friends hear my more honest thoughts - often with mixed reviews. However, since I viewed myself as a deficient and malfunctioning social entity, most of my opinions stayed under wraps. When the previous leader of the IMF was caught sexually assaulting hotel maids, my quip about the invisible hand of the market getting a bit touchy-feely was heard by no one. This wasn't because of some lack of wit or fears of revealing how nerdy I am, it was because I forced myself to not have an opinion in order to maintain the status quo of those around me.

Though this coping mechanism worked while I was a teenager, it is becoming more strenuous to maintain as an adult. On my most recent trip home, my mother was present for one of my phone conversations with my boyfriend - the one person who hears my thoughts in their unedited form. In my peripheral vision, I saw her eyes get wider and her mouth drop as I described the driver in front of me (never underestimate the idiocy of those on the motorway). The look of disbelief soon turned into a high pitched parental reprimand concerning my tone, language, and the simple fact that this is something that Jesus would never do (when I noted that Jesus didn't have access to a Honda Civic, I earned a boxed ear). After I got off the phone I faced her - when she met my gaze it felt like she didn't recognise me.
"You used to be so quiet, it's like I don't know you anymore."
 When she said that, I realised that my attempts to please everyone by self-policing and compartmentalising my social life had only managed to create multiple versions of myself - versions that no one was particularly pleased with. No amount of sarcasm can make light of your own shattered image, or your mother's complete displeasure with your comport.
"Let's make a deal then - you can see what I am actually like, and I won't hide my feelings from you."
Thus concluded one of the most awkward parental conversations I've ever had (it rivals the 'facts of life' speech I got when I was 9). Not to sound too tacky, but I really did feel a weight lift of my shoulders - I didn't have to hide from her anymore. It must be said that she is adjusting well - instead of scolding me when I begin to rant, she swallows hard and thanks me for sharing. A less magnanimous individual would revel in the shadenfreude of it all. Resisting said reveling is a daily struggle.

So I am here today to officially state the following: I refuse to remain quiet when I have something to say. I will no longer assume that people won't care about my opinion. I will no longer try to please everyone, and wind up doubting my abilities. I will claim my voice. It's a snarky voice that may be laden with profanity, but it's mine. If Feminism can help at least one more young woman find her voice in the din, then I'll consider it a victory.