Long ago, women were denied the right to speak or express their opinions. Society not only silenced them but went a step further—it substituted their silence with the words it wanted them to say. Her quiet was not her own; it was filled with ideas imposed by others, shaped to fit a narrative of obedience and submission.
But women found a way to resist. They began a silent revolution—getting things done without words, turning silence into strength. Slowly, society began to realize that its strategy of speaking for women was no longer working. Her silence had evolved. It was no longer a symbol of submission, but a strategy of resilience.
In response, society doubled down. It vilified her silence, labeling her a witch, a curse, or a bad omen—especially when something went wrong. Even when she didn’t utter a word, she was blamed. Her silence became threatening simply because it was no longer controllable.
Today, we are witnessing a similar situation with Indian minorities. The majority, uneasy with their silence, projects onto it. They treat the quiet of minorities as suspicious, even dangerous. They want the minority voice to echo their own—to parrot their lines, beliefs, and loyalties.
But how can you control what someone prays for in silence? How can you police the thoughts that never become words?
The world cannot be fully controlled—least of all the quiet defiance of the oppressed. You can try to fill their silence with your own words, but the truth is, what remains unspoken often holds the greatest power. In silence, there is strength. And in that strength lies the potential to transform the world.
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