"The Quiet That Was Forced Upon Us": On Women Being Silenced

There is a quiet that doesn’t come from peace — it comes from centuries of being told to sit down, be small, and not make a fuss. It’s a silence many women know well. Not the kind that soothes — the kind that suffocates.

Whether through subtle dismissal or overt control, many women grow up internalising a deep, bone-level message:

Your voice is too much. Your truth is inconvenient. Your anger is dangerous. Your needs are a burden.

We learn to doubt our own instincts. We minimise our pain so others stay comfortable. We reframe our power as a threat, our intuition as irrational, and our boundaries as selfish. And when we dare to speak — about harm, about inequity, about trauma — we are often met with gaslighting, mockery, or polite deflection.

It’s not just personal. It’s systemic.

We see it in:

• The woman interrupted in every work conversation.

• The survivor shamed for coming forward "too late" or being "too emotional" or "not emotional enough".

• The mother dismissed as hormonal, irrational, or too attached.

• The activist told she’s “too angry” when she names injustice.

• The partner silenced with a weaponised “you’re hurting me by telling the truth.”

Silencing is not always loud. Sometimes it wears the mask of concern. It hides behind “civility.” It speaks in soft tones but leaves deep cuts. And too often, it teaches us to censor ourselves before anyone else has to.

But there is something powerful — revolutionary even — in a woman reclaiming her voice.

Not the curated one. Not the “nice” one. The messy, unfiltered, grief-soaked, rage-filled, healing, imperfect, human voice. The one that says:

This happened to me. I don’t agree. That crossed a line. I deserve better. I will not shrink so you can stay comfortable.

This isn’t just personal healing — this is cultural repair. Because when women stop silencing themselves, the systems built on their silence start to shake.

So to every woman learning to speak again — or for the first time — in the face of suppression: Your voice matters. Your experience is valid. Your refusal to stay quiet is not aggression — it is truth-telling, and truth has always been the first step toward liberation.

In ancestral rage, beauty and healing,

Carly x