In my research for a project in Psychology of Gender course, I came across the following quote by New York Senator Kirsten Gillibrand on the subject of women’s vocal presentation: “You have to speak less like a young girl and more like a young, aspiring professional.”
This troubled me, especially considering Sen. Gillibrand’s otherwise feminist political leanings. Even as I persisted with my research, I had to keep asking myself: Why is a young girl necessarily different from an aspiring professional?
I had expressed interest in researching the vocal pattern of “upspeak,” “uptalk,” “upward inflection” or “high-rising terminal” because of my background in high school debate and my membership in the College’s Moot Court team.
“Upspeak,” the ending of an otherwise decisive statement as a question, was a tendency I had been told to avoid in my vocal presentation, both formally and informally. I understood that “upspeak” implied uncertainty, insecurity and reluctance, especially while seeking affirmation from someone like a coach or a judge. However, as I became more experienced in debate, I came to understand that “upspeak” was a vocal pattern attributed almost exclusively to women. This, I realized, was particularly debilitating to female speakers because it not only meant gendering what is, in reality, a gender-neutral vocal pattern, but also because it gendered the traits with which “upspeak” is associated — uncertainty, insecurity and reluctance.
Upon realizing this, I quickly came to notice that my female peers and I received a disparate amount of criticism of the very sound of our voice. Suddenly, the tone and frequency of my voice became something about which I felt unnaturally self-aware. My voice did not feel like as much a part of me as it did a presentation to others about how seriously I wanted to be taken.
For the remainder of my years in debate, then, I struggled with perfecting a presentation that judges would find neither too polite nor too aggressive. It was not until this year, when I was encouraged to slow down and speak like I would to my friends or family, that I decided my voice was completely my own. I have nothing to prove or to disprove to anyone.
In the same article I had read for my psychology project, Sen. Gillibrand insisted that how a woman speaks and how she wants to be received is a decision that every woman must make. It is a decision, however, that men in professional positions do not necessarily have to make, and one that is not so subject to criticism. Women in positions of authority often face an inordinate amount of backlash if their vocal presentation is not perfectly polished or controlled. Presidential candidate and former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton, for example, is regularly rebuked for what some call a “shrill” or “nagging” voice, and former Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher underwent extensive voice coaching to sound more authoritative.
How a woman presents herself is a decision she is continuously pressured to make in order to be taken seriously in almost every field. This is apparent in dress codes, rules of etiquette, and other formalities — none of which, however, I feel, are as counterintuitive and self-depreciating as the sound of my voice. Some semblance of professionalism is necessary in many fields, but professionalism should not be gendered. Women in society should not have to change themselves, least of all the way they sound, to have a voice.
Coral Ciupak, a Contributing Writer for the Voice, can be reached for comment at CCiupak19@wooster.edu.