In a country that reveres obedience more than originality, silence often feels like the safest choice. From a young age, we are taught not to speak out of turn. “Don’t talk back,” they say. “Keep your head down,” they advise. For many, especially women, speaking your truth isn’t an act of bravery—it’s a calculated risk.
This fear is not always loud. Sometimes it’s a subtle tightening in your chest when you disagree with a teacher. Sometimes it’s the pause before you tell your parents that you want something different from the life they dreamed for you. Silence, in this way, becomes a language of survival.
But survival is not the same as living.
We live in a world where censorship isn’t always external. It lives inside us—in the voices that say we’re too emotional, too outspoken, too much. The real tragedy is not that we’re silenced by others, but that we begin to silence ourselves.
Art, writing, storytelling—these are acts of rebellion against that inner censor. When we name the things we fear, we take away their power. Speaking, even if your voice trembles, becomes an act of liberation.
So here’s to the ones who whisper their truth into the dark. May we hear you. May we join you.
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