In the 2007 campaign for the Democratic Party’s nomination for President, Barack Obama responds to Hilary Clinton’s suggestion that his sharp ascendency in the polls was due in large part to the grandeur of his speeches and powerful oration, than by the substance of his policies and executive experience (or lack thereof), by retorting: “Don’t tell me words don’t matter. I have a dream – just words? We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal – just words? We have nothing to fear but fear itself – just words, just speeches? It’s true that speeches don’t solve all problems, but what is also true is that if we can’t inspire our country to believe again, then it doesn’t matter how many policies and plans we have…don’t tell me words don’t matter!” Then-candidate Obama firmly understood that words are not light-fare, if chosen properly, if the intention behind one’s words are to inspire, uplift, encourage, etc. Obama’s ode to words certainly reminds me about something I learned during my Arabic studies, abroad. An instructor taught me that one of the reasons the Arabic language is written from right to left, is so that when words are written or read, they are done so towards the heart. As if to say that the only purpose for words is to target the heart – to move the heart. “For if words move the heart,” he said, “the heart moves the limbs to action.”

Words have the potential to build communities, to nurture relationships, to inspire hope and belief; but, words also have the power to divide and conquer, to destroy marriages, to enshroud the truth and cast dark spells of fear. Understanding the purpose of words lays down a strong foundation for how I strive to choose my words for both formal speech and in my daily interactions. 

The Arts of Communication (AOC) was one of the first courses that caught my attention and decided to enroll in almost immediately when I arrived at the Fletcher School of Law and Diplomacy at Tufts University in 2016. I had many reasons for doing so: I desperately wanted to work on interpersonal communication skills; I wanted to peer under the hood of good speech; I wanted to dissect the “great ones” – the MLKs, the Fredericks, the Kennedys – but most interesting to me,  I wanted to learn from my fellow classmates – pick up their cadences and crescendos, learn from their anecdotes and analogies. For somehow, and in many ways, what I picked up and learned from them was going to consciously and/or subconsciously impact the words and/or manner in which I spoke. AOC was quite simply a chance for me to grow as a person in this new, somewhat unsettling, stage of my life. 

One of the unique features of Professor Mankad’s AOC course, which I attribute a lot to my formation of strong friendships throughout graduate school, was the course’s peer-review group structure. Professor Mankad ensured that no one would go through such a journey alone, and with three or maybe even four others, everyone could have a chance to feel heard in their small groups before orating before a larger audience, to more intimately feel seen and understood. The vulnerability and honesty that was encouraged in our small groups was where much of our transformations as public speakers occurred; and, I commend Professor Mankad for that pedagogical decision he had made. 

Lastly, The Arts of Communication not only gave myself and thousands of others that opportunity and encouragement to find our voices, but it also gave myself the opportunity to actively hear my own voice. A strategy I’d often use when preparing for an oration, and one I’d often share with fellow classmates, was to record an audio version of my speech, exactly as I had intended it to be heard, and replay it over and over through my headphones on my walks to campus or when eating in the dining halls, so that I would memorize it, as I would the lyrics to my favorite song. Hearing my voice in this way – almost separating myself from the voice I am hearing – was both an unnerving yet satisfying feeling. 

[696 words]

[Fletcher School, Fall 2016; Faces of Community, Fall 2017]