Talk
Hi. I’m Sarah, and I’m f🏳️🌈king terrified.
The words are out of my mouth before I can stop them, but before I even have the chance to brace myself for the anticipated disapproving silence, the room erupts with laughter. It’s taken me a year to prepare for my first proper, paid speaking gig, and the sixth word out of my mouth is ‘fuck’. Standard.
My first public speaking experience was when I was ten years old. Every kid in school had to present a speech to their class, and the finalist would be required to give their winning speech at an assembly. I became obsessed (as is my custom) with this speech, and practiced the absolute fuck out of it until I could literally recite the entire three minutes by heart. I was beyond elated to be selected the winner of my class, probably simply because I was the only kid who didn’t need cue cards. I still remember the first line of my speech, which was demanding ‘Have you ever been bitten by a pit-bull terrier?!’, before launching into an aggressive yet boring tirade about how dog safety laws in New Zealand were too relaxed. I’m assuming there was some kind of political theme for the assignment that I’ve forgotten, or I simply chose a bizarrely specific and uninteresting topic. Anyway, I still remember how fucking excited I was to stand up there on the wooden stage with its dusty red velvet curtains and give my speech to the entire school.
The kids loved it. As in, thought it was the funniest thing they’d ever heard. They fucking laughed at me. Standing up there in my uniform with my carefully handwritten emergency cue cards crumpled in my sweaty hand, I could clearly see the kids in the front row sniggering and my face turned red as my school jumper as I desperately wished I could disappear forever behind those fucking gross curtains. In hindsight I can see how a ten year old ranting earnestly about dog safety was funny, but back then I was confused and mortified. For the remaining two years of my elementary school life I endured parts of my speech being quoted back to me to much hilarity. I was never a popular kid, but even the kids I secretly deemed even less popular than me would take the piss. What should have been a big achievement for my ten-year-old self just became a super shameful memory that I am still reminded of whenever I see a dog wearing a muzzle (as it bloody well should be).
So a year ago, when I was asked to speak at a pretty high profile conference, (I know, what ?) all I could think of was the relentless hassling of my peers following my last performance over two decades ago. With my confidence at a solid zero I defaulted to the speech strategies I had used as a child…memorizing the fuck outta my material. Given that 45 minutes is a decent amount longer than the three minute slot I had back in 1996, this was quite an undertaking. When I was sitting my final exams in high school I deployed a system of writing an essay in its entirety, recording myself reciting it, and then listening to it over and over again on my Walkman (yes, old) until I had thoroughly memorized the entire thing and could simply rattle it off on paper under exam conditions. I also used a similar technique (minus technology) when I was even younger and required for reasons unknown to be able to recite the names of the books of the Bible by heart. (Fun fact: I can still do this and it would be a very anti social party trick, if I ever went to parties.) So naturally I recorded myself reciting the entire seminar and proceeded to listen to it on repeat during every morning walk and every car ride. It worked…too well. The resulting speech sounded rehearsed and lifeless as fuck. The whole purpose of the seminar was to share my story and what I’ve learnt along the way. It was meant to be authentic and heartfelt and genuine. I had fucked it up with my 20 year old fear of public speaking shame and obsessive desire to control every single detail of my life.
Somehow, despite countless attacks of impostor syndrome and many mental breakdowns (generally being talked off each ledge by my long-suffering Mum and boyfriend), I made it through several trial runs and re-writes and finally it was the big day. Standing up there in front of the crowded room in my gold converse (obviously), with no curtains or stage but just me, my slideshow, and my emergency cue cards clutched fearfully in my sweaty hand, I thought, fuck it, I’ve got this, and put them back in my pocket.
They fucking loved it. They laughed WITH me, and at the right times, at my jokes which weren’t rehearsed, but were authentic, in the moment, and literally just me being me. There were no sidelong glances, sniggers, or eye rolls, and as I made eye contact with each person in the room I could genuinely feel their connection to me and to what I was saying. I felt like a fucking rock star as I made it through the whole 45 minutes without faltering and it was probably one of the proudest moments in my adult life. In my mind I was ten again, standing on the stage with the whole school looking on, only this time they were beaming, hanging on my every word, and my face was red, not with embarrassment but with exhilaration.
Whoever said ‘if you love what you do you’ll never work a day in your life’ is a lazy fuck. I loved every moment of my first proper public speaking effort in 20 years. But fuck me it was hard work. Loving something makes it worth it though. A wise woman once told me that the most satisfying things in life are hard (lol) and she was bloody spot on. It’s so fucking good to take a moment to recognise that you stepped the fuck outta your comfort zone , owned it, and no one laughed at you.
Hi. I’m Sarah and I fucking nailed it.
