Louder, Lili
March 24, 2023
Author: Lily Miro
Editor: Keara Keelty
“When Lili heard her name, she answered ‘here’ in a voice so soft, you couldn't hear it even if you wanted to.”
I grew up an introvert. I would always listen, I would always observe, but I would rarely find the courage to speak. I enjoyed listening and giving to others because it made them happy, but I never felt I had the courage or power to make others listen to me. I had trouble raising my hand in class, and I would not join in on a conversation unless I was asked to. Most of the time, my shyness and people-pleasing nature made me a pushover, but some of the time it allowed me to understand others in a way that some people never could. I would spend hours observing the world around me, thereby taking in the way people process emotions and react to the voices of others. I mastered the art of appealing to the extroverts in my life without actually being an extrovert myself. My shyness helped me become the empathetic listener that I am today, but I truly do not think I would have understood this if it were not for the book, Louder, Lili.
“Lili wanted to raise her hand, but her hand would not go up.”
My parents gave me the book Louder, Lili by Gennifer Choldenko when I was in kindergarten. It was a picture book about a young girl, Lili, who was extremely shy and would never speak. She would not raise her hand in class, would not get picked to be partners with anyone, and would spend her recess eating lunch with the class pet guinea pig, Lois. One day a girl named Rita B. decided she wanted to be friends with Lili. Rita would walk all over Lili, making her do things she did not want to do. The day that Lili finally found her voice was when Rita decided to cut Lois’ hair and pour glue into her water. Lili told Rita off in the loudest voice she could use, and she finally was heard.
“Every kid had a partner, except Lili.”
The message my parents attempted to send me was clear. It was time for me to find my voice. This would not be an easy road for me to take. I was simply accustomed to giving to the world around me, without speaking up for myself; I was not ready for my happiness to not be a direct result of how many smiles I put on others’ faces. After reading the book, I vividly remember thinking, “Why can’t I stand up for myself?”
“At recess, Lili did not go out to play. She curled up in a corner of the classroom next to Lois, the guinea pig, and read books. Only Lois knew she was there.”
Louder, Lili didn’t help me right away in kindergarten, but it stuck with me for the rest of my life. Lili’s struggle was maybe more exaggerated than mine, and she may have spelled her name differently, but her story spoke to me. Lili was with me when I could not open my lunch box in 1st grade and was too shy to ask a teacher for help. She told me to speak up. She was with me in 6th grade when I let two 8th graders cut in front of me in the lunch line and didn’t say anything. She told me to speak up. She was with me when I finally found the courage to share my opinion in a Socratic Seminar about Lord of the Flies freshman year. She told me to speak up, and I finally did.
“Lili’s face burned. Her mouth tasted like Tabasco sauce. From deep inside came a voice so loud, it made the windows rattle, the desks rumble and the rug come up off the floor.”
Now, whenever I feel as though my shyness is taking over and hindering my courage rather than fostering my empathy, I think of Lili. She taught me to stop the world from walking all over me — without walking over anyone else in the process.
