The Pain They Tell You to Swallow: On Disrespect, Dehumanization, and the Lie of Strength

They say, “Now’s not the time.”They say, “It’s not that serious.”They say, “Be the bigger person.”They say, “Other people have it worse.” And just li

They say, “Now’s not the time.”
They say, “It’s not that serious.”
They say, “Be the bigger person.”
They say, “Other people have it worse.”

And just like that, your pain—the disrespect you endured, the dehumanization you were expected to smile through—is erased.

Let’s tell the truth:
Being Black. Being a woman. Being both. Too often means being expected to carry the weight of someone else’s rage, someone else’s comfort, someone else’s suffering—while silencing your own.

You’re not only expected to endure harm, you’re expected to make it look graceful.
To keep smiling. To be unbothered.
To be “resilient.”
To be “strong.”

But strength does not mean swallowing disrespect and calling it peace.
It does not mean being dehumanized over and over again while the world keeps saying, “Well, you’re used to it.”

Let’s be clear:
Disrespect is violence.
Dehumanization is trauma.
And repeating it—again and again—is abuse.

No amount of other people’s suffering makes it okay for you to suffer in silence.
No amount of historical endurance makes today’s harm acceptable.

If anything, being harmed repeatedly only magnifies the pain.
It accumulates.
It lingers.
It shows up in the body, in the spirit, in the generations that come after you.

Every time you are told to “move on,” “get over it,” or “stop whining”—they are demanding your silence to protect the status quo.
They are asking you to perform strength that no human being should have to conjure.
They are asking you to make peace with your own erasure.

But you were never put here to be someone else’s stepping stone.
You were never meant to survive on scraps of dignity.
You deserve wholeness.
You deserve humanity.
You deserve to be heard when you say: “This hurt me.”
And when you say: “This will not be tolerated again.”

It is never the wrong time to speak your truth.
It is never selfish to demand your humanity.
It is never weakness to say:
“I will not carry pain that was never mine to hold.”

We survive. Yes.
But we also live.
And living means reclaiming the right to be respected, seen, valued, and treated as human—every single day.