On a recent Monday in August, Kevito Clark hosted a video conference to discuss an upcoming game night he’s hosting at LINE LA, a hotel in Koreatown. But during the hourlong meeting, he didn’t say a word.
Instead, Clark, who has a shaved head and a full beard with a hint of gray, used other communication tools. When the hotel’s brand manager expressed hesitation about handing out rubber bracelets, he nodded. When a collaborator mentioned a tentative artist’s name, he used Google Meet settings to send heart and thumbs-up emojis. In between these interactions, he typed his thoughts — “Branded mugs are cute,” “Any last questions?” — into the chat. Not once did he make himself heard.
It was an unusual way to run a meeting, but Clark's aides have grown accustomed to it. As he reminded the group before the call began, he is currently serving a three-month vow of silence.
Across religions, vows of silence are used to quiet the mind, develop self-knowledge and connect more deeply with the divine. They often conjure up images of monks meditating in the mountains or ascetics living in desert caves. Clark, who is 41 and lives in Leimert Park, has added a modern twist to the practice. During the duration of her vow, which began June 1, she has continued to live her daily life, hosting parties, volunteering, attending concerts and even going on the occasional date.
His is a vow of silence that applies only to speaking, meaning he continues to text, email and type in the chat during video calls. In person, he communicates by typing messages in the iMessage app on his phone or writing in one of the pocket notebooks he carries with him everywhere.
“As the saying goes, ‘What you don’t change, you choose.’ This promise was for me to grow, not to get views or likes.”
— Leimert Park resident and businessman Kevito Clark on his three-month vow of silence
When in public, he wears a red and blue button that reads: “Silence by choice. Thank you for your understanding. I can speak through text notes.” A similar message is written in marker on the cover of each of his notebooks:
“Good morning! Hello! Hello! My name is Kevito! Nice to meet you. I am currently taking a vow of silence. I can talk via text chat and this notepad. (Thanks for your understanding!)
Clark wears a pin that says “silence by choice” as she practices her vow of silence. (Carlin Stiehl / For The Times)
Kevito Clark holds up a notepad he uses to communicate with people that has pre-written pages explaining why he decided not to speak for three months.
On the following pages, he maintains pre-written answers to four questions he is most frequently asked:
- You can talk!
- This was taken to address uncontrolled pain, redirect energy and focus on my personal/professional purpose and goals.
- Voting ends on September 1, 2024.
- Environmentalist John Francis inspired this vote.
Clark, who came to Los Angeles in 2022 from New York and Ohio, has built his life on the power of intention. His decision to remain silent in an age when so many people spend their free time talking into their phone cameras, and in a city where those who squeak the most get the grease, is in service of his larger ambitions. Before his vow began, he was living what he calls “444,” which is shorthand for his goal to consistently engage in “four acts of volunteerism, four acts of self-care, and four ways to show up and show up for others.” His recent vow has allowed him to commit more firmly to this goal.
“As the saying goes, 'What you don't change, you choose,'” she wrote. “This promise was for me to grow, not to get views or likes.”
Still, it hasn’t always been easy to integrate silence into his daily routine. Clark often works in positions where the word “communication” is in their job title. He’s the founder and creative director of Love, Peace & Spades, which has a monthly residency at LINE LA, and currently provides event services for a security company and serves as a community liaison for the nonprofit Black Men Hike — all while refraining from speaking.
Some business owners and collaborators have said they wouldn't work with him until he finished his promise. And while he had fun taking a date on a “choose your own adventure” experience through Mickalene Thomas' All About Love exhibit at the Broad, she said she would only see him again when she could hear his voice.
Kevito Clark uses a notepad to communicate with Kimoni Oliver, a barista at ORA.
Kevito Clark walks through the streets of Leimert Park.
“I have experienced how people jump to conclusions and make assumptions (for example, they think I have a disability),” she wrote in an email. “It takes a lot of work, patience, understanding and agreement from all parties to make this happen.”
There’s no single reason Clark took his three-month vow of silence; instead, he says a series of events catalyzed the decision. His kidneys failed in 2012, and he waited six years for a new one before a friend offered to donate in 2018. Earlier this year, he mourned the back-to-back losses of two longtime friends and mentors who were like second parents to him. In the wake of their passing and the subsequent anniversaries of the deaths of others he loved, he realized he hadn’t had time to honor life’s transitions.
He began to wonder, “Who are you when no one is watching?” He wondered if taking a vow of silence might provide an answer.
“It sounded like a whisper,” he wrote. “And the whisper became a voice.”
Online research led him to the story of John Francis, a black environmentalist who stopped speaking and riding in motor vehicles for 17 years after witnessing the collision of two oil tankers and the spill of half a million gallons of oil into San Francisco Bay in 1971. In a popular TED TalkFrancis said that when he decided to stop talking, he found he could listen to others better, rather than formulating a response as they spoke.
“It was a very moving experience,” Francis says in the talk. “For the first time in a long time, I started to listen.”
Clark was inspired by his story. “In him I saw someone who was not only curious about himself, but also about how to implement positive change through discipline and facing adversity,” Clark wrote.
In late April, Clark began formulating a plan to take his own, much shorter vow of silence.
She chose the period from June 1 to September 1 for her pledge after reading that it takes 21 days to break habits and 30 days to start new habits. She drafted an email explaining her decision and sent it to friends, family and co-workers outlining what she was about to undertake. She could still communicate, she wrote, but only through non-speech platforms like Google Meet, mobile text messages and handwritten notes.
Friends and collaborators were mostly supportive and intrigued.
“He's a calm, collected, relaxed guy,” said Courtney La Prince, a digital designer who met Clark while volunteering at Love, Peace & Spades. “He's very careful with his words, so when he said he was going to take a vow of silence, it wasn't hard for me to imagine.”
It's also been a change for the people you interact with regularly. Conversations move at a different pace when a person types out their responses.
“I found that I need to be still when I talk to him,” said Kelli Boyt, who also goes by DJ Kaaos Jones. “I make a lot of my calls from the car, but I need to be aware of any conversations we have over text, so I almost have to plan everything out. So I’ll be in the office or sitting still in my car in the parking lot.”
Kevito Clark at ORA in Leimert Park.
Jennie Wright, regional brand manager at LINE LA, where Clark hosts Love, Peace & Spades, was initially concerned about the logistical implications of his pledge. She and Clark developed the event together, and she didn’t know how he would pull it off if he couldn’t speak. At the same time, she wanted to respect his decision to focus on himself.
“He took this vow of silence to center himself and find some peace within himself, so I thought, ‘Let me get my selfishness back,’” she said.
Over the past three months, she discovered that organizing events with a silent partner is not as difficult as she thought.
“We have continued with Love, Peace & Spades since June and they have all worked successfully,” she said. “And it has pushed me to step up and become more of a leader.”
As her vote nears its end on Sept. 1, Clark reflected on its impact in a written interview.
“I learned to moderate my thoughts, to accept gratitude, to give myself grace, to pour myself out to be available to others and to magnetize the positive to turn it into manifested results,” she wrote.
Still, she's looking forward to it being over. Love, Peace & Spades will hold its first-ever culture and gaming festival on Sept. 21. She can't wait to speak at the event. But reflecting on the past three months, she said she found her silent vow more liberating than restrictive.
“I hugged each other deeply and laughed heartily,” she wrote in a Zoom chat. “Those are sincere ways to communicate, whether you speak or not.”
