🔇 Respectable-Silencing Is Still Silencing And it’s one of the most dangerous kinds. Some people won’t yell over you.They won’t insult you.They wo
🔇 Respectable-Silencing Is Still Silencing
And it’s one of the most dangerous kinds.
Some people won’t yell over you.
They won’t insult you.
They won’t throw slurs.
They’ll just gently, subtly, consistently ask you to tone it down.
To make your truth easier to swallow.
To “not make it about race,” or “not bring gender into it,” or “just focus on the positive.”
They’ll call it “polite conversation.”
They’ll call it “civility.”
They’ll call it “unity.”
But what it really is…
is respectable-silencing.
🧠What is Respectable-Silencing?
It’s the push to make your truth more palatable to those in power.
It’s when people don’t outright say “shut up”—
They just want you to filter your story through their comfort first.
“Why do you have to say you’re a Black woman?”
“Can’t you be a Survivor without bringing politics into it?”
“You’re going to make people uncomfortable talking about that.”
“This isn’t the right time/place/tone.”
Sound familiar?
🧨 Here’s the truth:
Abuse doesn’t care about being polite.
Violence doesn’t wait for the right tone.
Erasure loves silence in a pretty dress.
When we’re told to be “respectable,”
we’re often being told:
“Make your story safe for the people who’ve ignored it the longest.”
đź“š Historical Examples of Respectable-Silencing:
🗣️ Ida B. Wells
When she exposed the truth about lynching, many—including Black leaders—told her she was too “unladylike” and “radical.”
She kept publishing names. She told the truth anyway.
🎤 Fannie Lou Hamer
When she testified about being brutally beaten for trying to vote, the Democratic Party tried to block her speech.
She spoke anyway. “I’m sick and tired of being sick and tired.”
🧠The Pattern:
The world doesn’t just try to silence truth-tellers.
It tries to retrain them—
To speak softly. To smile more. To phrase it better.
To wait until it’s “safe” to say the thing.
(It’s never safe. That’s the point.)
💥 But justice doesn’t come from being quiet.
It comes from being clear.
It comes from naming names.
It comes from speaking truth in full color—even when your voice shakes, and even when the room shifts.
Because your story doesn’t need to be digestible.
It needs to be heard.
🧠Reflection Questions:
When have I been asked to “tone down” the truth about my identity or experience?
What language have I softened to make others comfortable—and what did that cost me?
Who taught me that being “respectable” was safer than being real? Were they right?
Do I silence others—even unintentionally—by asking them to be less specific, less loud, or less emotional?
What truth do I need to speak more boldly, even if it shakes the room?
🪷 Closing Reminder:
“Share if you feel safe and ready—your voice might be the lifeline someone else needs.” 🪷
And if you do share, remember to cite the messenger. Words carry legacy.
