Claiming Your Voice in a World That Wants You Quiet
I blew up a family gathering last month.
It started small — someone did something that felt wrong, unfair, a quiet injustice. I tried to let it go. I told myself, it’s not worth disrupting everyone else’s day. I wanted to stay calm, to keep the peace, to let it slide.
But I couldn’t.
I spoke up for myself and my beliefs. And yet, they didn’t take me seriously. My words were brushed aside, ignored, diminished. And then my kids spoke up for me, and weren’t heard. Honestly, that was the straw…
Suddenly, my whole body was on fire. I was pissed. I raised my voice and spoke up in a way that this part of the family had never seen from me before. (I guess they know who I really am now). Every nerve, every muscle, every cell in me was screaming that I could not stay silent any longer.
Afterward, I was tearful, trembling, shaking, and yes—I felt like I was going to puke. I left the gathering feeling frustrated, disrespected, and raw.
And I also felt proud.
Proud that I had used my voice. Proud that I had refused to be silent about what I knew was wrong. Proud that, despite the discomfort, the fear, and the physical intensity, I had stepped fully into my power.
Could I have handled it more gracefully? Sure. Could I have been more strategic or polite? Possibly. And I did follow up later with my family—apologizing for the pieces I could have done better. But I never apologized for speaking up in the first place. That truth was non-negotiable.
This is the experience of so many of us—women, queer folks, anyone whose voice society has tried to shrink, ignore, or silence. We’ve been taught to soften, to hold back, to accommodate. We’ve learned that speaking our truth can lead to judgment, conflict, and discomfort. And so, we shrink. We quiet ourselves.
But every time we do, a part of us gets locked down. Our bodies carry it, our energy carries it, our confidence carries it. Authentic expression begins to feel dangerous, even forbidden.
Reclaiming your voice is messy. It’s imperfect. It’s raw. And it’s radical. That fire in my body, the shaking, the tears—that’s the body saying: I matter. I have something to say. I will be heard.
This is our birthright. This is why I created Resonant Knowing. A space for women and queer folks to explore the parts of themselves that have been silenced, dismissed, or told to shrink. A space to practice embodied voice work safely, courageously, and powerfully. To step into your own fire. Without apology.
If you’ve ever felt like your voice doesn’t matter, like your truth will just be ignored or dismissed, know this: it matters. Your voice matters. Your courage matters.
I invite you to explore this space with me. Go ahead and explore the new website. Here’s where you can learn more about the work, the upcoming Elusive Voice™ cohort, and how to step boldly into your own voice.