Words

Angela Guiao
MSMU Class of 2021

(5/2019) Growing up, I’ve always wanted to be a writer. I would write little stories and draw pictures and staple the papers together so that they’d look like pages in a book. I always thought words held a lot of importance, and words always proved to be the best form of communication, at least for me. It was a way that I could explain myself. This was the way I could express myself best. I was a shy kid. I didn’t speak much. But with words, I could say everything I wanted to say, clearly and meaningfully.

My mother’s first language is Tagalog. Back in the Philippines, English is the second language, so she was pretty good at speaking it. But often times she’d mix up present tense with past tense and past tense with future tense, so people often made fun of her. Lots of times, those people were my classmates who’d come over for a playdate and hear her speak.

"Why does your mom speak like that?"

"Does she not know how to speak English?" they’d whisper to me.

At the time, my mother would always pretend not to hear them. But when they were gone, and it was time to do my homework, she’d say to me, "Angela, practice your English very hard. Read books. Write your stories. This way no one can ever make fun of you. This way, you’d always be one of them."

Writing became a way of belonging. I never had much of a problem in public school. Everything was diverse. But my mother believed in moving me back and forth from private to public school as a way of exposing me to different cultures. I could meet different people to have a better understanding of what was around me.

Private school always tended to be predominantly white, well-to-do families. My mother was a single mother who worked as a babysitter, and I often would attend private school on scholarships. I often felt out of place. My friends used to go to a pizza parlor every day after school, and I wouldn’t join them because we didn’t have the money to spend so wastefully.

But eventually, I would always be saved by my writing. English was always my best subject, and my teachers saw how much I loved to write. I became the girl who was good at writing and that made me finally feel like I belonged.

Our prompt this month is to talk about what is more valuable: a picture or 1000 words? I think based on the above, it’s obvious that for me it’s 1000 words. But I want to explain why it could be a picture too.

For some reason, my friends always end up discovering a passion for photography. One has even moved to San Francisco and has been featured in magazines. There is so much to worry about with photography, in my opinion. The lighting, the contrast and the saturation all have to be perfect to capture exactly what’s intended. But what I find most interesting is how photos have the ability to convey emotion.

What I’ve learned from my photography friends is that a good photo makes you feel something. It leaves a mark. I can see that in the sense of how old photos bring on the feeling of nostalgia. But even some current pictures, pictures I may take today for my Instagram, will one day remind me of a time in the past when I was happy, celebrating or free.

That’s the best thing about photos. People take pictures during their best times. During sad, dark, or fearful moments, most people don’t pull out their camera to take a photo, although there may be some exceptions. They take them when they feel most confident, most happy. Pictures allow others to see what is most important in a person’s life because we take pictures of things that we find meaningful, of moments we don’t want to forget. There are stories in pictures. And while it may mean more to one person, it may convey more feeling for another.

Words are more straightforward, I think. They are more universal. They either mean something or they don’t. Like pictures, they are open to interpretation. They may strike a chord with certain people, and they may make others cry. But words are not stuck in the past. They can encourage for the future or clarify the present. They can relate to everyone and anyone, not only those in a picture. Words are timeless, which cannot be said about most things. For me, words are more valuable because they are explicit.

They can contain details and stories and specifics that may otherwise not be known if you were simply looking at a picture. They can be used anywhere; they can be used without needing anything. Words can be the greatest weapon, while pictures are only a shield.

Now, I don’t have anything against pictures. Pictures show things for what they truly are. And perhaps that is their advantage over words. They are transparent; they can’t lie. Words can be manipulated and can be used to manipulate other people. They can be used in such a way that can promote falsehoods. They aren’t trustworthy. While pictures simply are. Pictures hold the truth. They expose your imperfections and cannot be changed to your desire. They tell things how they are and cannot be manipulated in the same way.

In my life, words have played such a big part. They have helped me through troublesome and lonely times. They allowed me to express myself during my best times, and through my darkest times. Words can truly transport you to another world, in both books and in stories. They helped me say the things I would never have the ability to say out loud. They remind me of my mother. They remind me of my childhood. For me, words will forever be more valuable than pictures.

Read other articles by Angela Tongohan