By Betsy Gonwa, 
In light of the unrest and the curfew that my community and many others have experienced, I have been looking at it from both sides. At first glance, implementing a curfew is a good thing because it creates safety.
But, safety for whom? Not for those citizens who insist on protesting after curfew. When they could lawfully assemble during daylight hours, why do they assemble after curfew and risk being arrested? And then it occurs to me that perhaps breaking curfew is a response to being silenced. Silenced by the powers that be.
This brings to mind my own response to being silenced. I remember, as a child, hearing, “Cry louder. I can’t hear you!” Not surprisingly, I learned to hide my tears. That way I would not be shamed. It felt safer.
It strikes me now that this practice of holding back my tears is like implementing a personal curfew. Strong feelings can be overpowering. What if I should explode? What if my feelings should spiral down, and carry me with them? So I silence them in the moment, hoping they will abate.
These days, I sometimes discover that I am feeling out of sorts, sad, directionless, even listless. And not wanting to waste time feeling that way, I might push the feeling down and attempt to power through. But I can choose to listen to what is going on inside of me instead of imposing a personal curfew. I can allow my feelings expression. When I do, they become gentle and reveal wisdom. This kind of listening is a spiritual practice. Recently when I listened this way, it resulted in a song. Other times it might lead to a journal entry or a conversation with a friend. And, at times, if I need help to fully allow a feeling expression, I seek out a trusted listener, a counselor, or a spiritual director.
In looking at a curfew from one side, I see the value in safety. In looking at a curfew from the other side, I see the harm in silencing. Implementing a curfew for safety and control, whether to silence my own difficult feelings or to silence a community, is not a long-term solution. The long-term solution is listening. Deep listening is a practice. It is a skill that one can develop. It is available to individuals and it is available to communities. In a community setting, listening happens in a circle. A circle has its roots in indigenous communities, sitting around a campfire and telling stories. In the criminal justice setting, it is called restorative justice and in other settings, it is more broadly called restorative practices.
Is there a difficult feeling that you have been silencing? Consider the power of listening.
