Speaking Truth to Power

A few words at a time

I’m a longtime advocate of women using their voices. Stop being quiet! Speak up! I’ve said many times over the years. Let’s hear it, lady! Wait, no, not you. But it’s crucial that we don’t stay silent about the things that matter to us. My memoir I’m Wearing Tunics Now even has the subtitle “On growing older, better, and a hell of a lot louder” and it culminated in me giving a speech on the steps of the Texas State Capitol.

And that culminated in many one-star reviews and nasty emails from women named Dorothy who felt I should be in church instead. Huzzah.

Alas, lately it’s been harder to make your voice heard when there’s so much chatter going on. There’s much to chatter about, of course. Take a look around. But it can often feel like nobody is listening to anyone anymore. That's why I was so pleased that when I recently spoke out about something I thought was wrong, I got real results.

The big events center in Austin that I follow on Instagram posted a graphic about a “state of Austin music” panel they would be holding with the city’s economic committee. I didn’t really pay attention to the details, but right away noticed that they had included photos of the eight speakers on the panel, and seven of them were white guys. One was Matthew McConaughey and he’s his own category. I think it’s state law that he just gets to show up whenever he chooses.

Sidenote: A few years ago, I was a contestant on the NPR show “Ask Me Another” when they taped in Austin. The other three people in the show and I waited in the green room backstage at the theater, then we were told to go stand in the hallway next to the stage. “But do NOT make eye contact with Matthew McConaughey when he comes off the stage! DO NOT!” someone in charge told us, like he was a holy deity and not some actor that smells like patchouli. Anyway, I looked at him.

Me on stage, looking at McConaughey and wondering how his career survived “Ghosts of Girlfriends Past.”

Back to the Austin music panel. I was immediately incensed that in 2026, they didn’t have a single woman speaking. It’s not like we don’t have thousands of music industry professional women in town, so it was either misogynistic or lazy that it was an all-male line-up. I quickly typed an erudite comment about sexism, and fairness, and equality and posted it under the graphic. Right away my comment started getting likes, and I was proud that I’d used my voice to call attention to something so unfair and tone deaf.

About a week or so later, I saw a new post on Instagram from the events center about the music panel, and lo and behold, there were now 2-3 women added to the line-up! What?! I knew this had to be because I used my voice and my wisdom to write a comment that told them the error of their ways. I spoke truth to power, I did. I eagerly clicked on their account to find the previous post so I could reread my glorious missive, but the whole thing had been deleted. “Ah ha! They destroyed all evidence!” I said to myself. “But I will never forget what I wrote!”

I forgot what I wrote. I should mention here that on the night I left my legendary comment, I had been drinking margaritas.

I texted a friend who I remembered had liked my comment and asked her to tell me what it was. “If you have time,” I said, “to the best of your ability. You maybe don’t recall all of my treatise against sexism. Just give me the first few sentences.”

“No, I do have time to tell you the whole thing,” she answered. “Because you only wrote two words.”

Wow, those must have been really powerful words, I thought. Did I write something in Latin despite not knowing any Latin except “Veni Vidi Vici”? Which translates to “We came, we saw, we kicked its ass”? Was my ability with the English language just so next level that I could make an events center tremble with only two words?

“What were the words?” I asked, eagerly waiting to hear my brilliance. “What did I say?”

“The two words were: SAUSAGE PARTY.”

Sometimes two words is all you need.

Thanks for reading!

—Wendi