Society of Whispers
When Whispering Becomes a Problem

Art by Melissa DePeaza | VOX Staff

By Lauren Brown|VOX Staff

If any place births whispers, it’s school. What other setting combines thousands of kids, scandal and the pressure to be quiet?

Teens are mature enough to see the evil around us and to hear all the insinuations adults make. We are just starting to understand this mean but wonderful world, but our teachers want us to be quiet. As we mature, our whispering grows louder because we have more secrets. Strangely enough, when our lives get harder, we talk less and hide more.

When a friend walks into class with red, puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks, her classmates politely look away. But next period, everyone whispers about her. We wonder why on earth she was crying. Then the rumors start. No one asks her why she cried, but everyone wants to talk about her. We should comfort her. It’s better to ease her burden by sharing it with her. Instead, we avert our eyes and leave her feeling miserable. It doesn’t make sense that when someone’s misery is as plain as a scar, we look away.

Our maturing minds have too many different opinions, convictions and feelings. And we’re still figuring out how to express our thoughts, so our generation whispers more than we should. I think it’s because we are scared of controversy. We are scared to hurt others, and scared to be hurt ourselves by opening up.

It’s not that we don’t care. Delicate friendships built on jokes and text messages could be killed by a serious conversation. You don’t ask a new friend about her religious views or her struggling family because things could get too heated. In debate, when feelings are hurt, friendships get broken. Laughing over problems is so much easier than discussing them. So, we whisper about problems to other friends — with the best intentions, of course — and end up making things worse.



Fragile Teen Relationships

A lot of us make friends to fight loneliness. We pick someone to eat lunch with or to sit with in class because it’s better than being alone. Who they are remains a mystery — one we are content to leave unsolved. We quickly latch onto anyone for the comfort of company.

We even have friends we’ve never actually met: our MySpace and Facebook friends, our texting buddies. In this high- tech age, we think communication is better than ever before, but it’s not. Communication is faster and easier, but it’s also harsh, short and impersonal. We use :) to replace actual smiles and LOL to depict laughter. Texting removes the need to see your friends or even hear their voices. Blogs do the same thing with people we don’t even know.

But these tools really can’t replace the warmth of a hug or comfort of a hand when someone is going through hardship. When I’m hurting, Times New Roman font does nothing to relieve me. Computerized smiley faces don’t help me either. On the other hand, hearing the voices of those I love helps. When my parents called me on the bus to tell me my grandfather was in the ICU, again, my friend’s unquestioning hugs meant much more to me than the text she had sent to see if he was alright.

I met my friend Cathy* on the first day of high school. I admit that I barely knew her until the next year. Her favorite actors, movies, books, siblings’ names, where she lived — these were all unknown to me. Now I could tell you all of them in a heartbeat. This year, we are able to talk about more personal subjects, more gray areas, like politics and the stress we go through. We are not casual buddies anymore. We are friends.

Touchy Subjects

It’s true: our generation leaves touchy subjects alone. We make as many gay jokes as we like — but never comfort someone who is struggling with his or her sexuality. We kid about racism all day — but turn away when someone speaks from experience. We are all guilty of this hypocrisy. I know I am. When my friend starts to talk about discrimination she encountered that day, I deftly change the subject. If I see two people about to fight about abortion, I distract them. Later, I joke about it. I am as guilty of whispering as anyone else.

Some teachers encourage lively debates in their classrooms, but some students don’t want to participate. Many students feel the subjects are too controversial, or potentially offensive. So instead of speaking with strong, confident voices about issues in debate, we don’t contribute.

My brilliant, opinionated friend Christina* loses her voice during class discussions. “I don’t want to fight with you,” she says. “It always turns into a fight. I couldn’t take that. I’m not going to say anything.” And so she says nothing — not on abortion, gay rights, politics or anything else that matters to her. Sometimes teens don’t want to come off as preachy or presumptuous. So we either keep quiet or murmur our thoughts to someone else.

All of us can tell that something in Christina’s life is eating her inside; that’s why she needs her friends so much.

She’ll say: “Any of you have an extra room in your house? Because I don’t want to go home,” or “Going to an after-school activity every day isn’t stressing me out. It’s my home life.” Then she’ll laugh it off and tell us not to worry.

I can see her pain, but I’m still afraid to do anything. If I wasn’t afraid, I would put my arm around her and ask her what’s wrong. I would invite her to my house more often. I would help her. I should. But, in truth, I am the Cowardly Lion. We’ve just become friends, and I don’t want to scare her off or come on too strong. I don’t want to intrude. Sometimes I wonder if she just wants a casual friend and if any prying would cause me to lose her friendship. So what am I supposed to do?

If friends cannot talk to each other about real issues like depression, abuse, low self-esteem and failing grades, maybe we aren’t really friends. I wonder how many real friends we have.

Open Doors

I wish we could find a way to be open and sincere with one another, replace the whispers with exposed feelings and try showing love and support instead of sending chain emails and Facebooking. When those we love are in a dark place, the best thing we can do is be there for them.

When on my bus, Leah* turns her head to the window after receiving a phone call, we see her shoulders shaking as shoulders do when we cry. We all look at each other in wonder — except for Jasmine*. She moves over to Leah’s seat and hugs her while Leah cries on her shoulder. Turns out that Leah’s mom was in the hospital and only Jasmine comforted her.

Jasmine was brave, and the rest of us were afraid. We were awkward and unsure, and we didn’t know what Leah needed. Leah wasn’t rejecting comfort when she turned away from us. She was hiding. Crying in public is often seen as a weakness, like you can’t control your emotions. And she was afraid to voice her problems. She’s so used to acting strong that that one moment of frailty scared her.

When our friends are quietly reaching out for an anchor, we shouldn’t turn away. We should listen carefully and give advice if we can, or at least help them seek the help they need. It’s our responsibility to stop the whispers.


Lauren is a sophomore at Campbell High. She loves really old movies and Alfred Hitchcock, the greatest director to ever grace the world with his presence.

*Names changed