The Silence We Inherited BY OSENI, Quareebat Tinuola

“Gbenousoun.” (A terminology often used in a Nigerian and Yoruba household)
Shut up.
For many of us, that was the soundtrack of our childhood in an African home. It was the word
that stopped us mid-sentence, the command that taught us our thoughts were secondary to the
silence of the room.
That word didn’t just end a conversation,it ended a part of our confidence. It shaped us to
overthink every word, to second-guess every opinion, and to tuck our best ideas away where
they couldn’t be criticized.
It created a knot in our throats that stays there even now, tying us down when we have every
right to speak.
These micro-aggressive words heard in living rooms and classrooms turned into silent traumas.
We didn’t realize we were carrying them until we found ourselves standing in boardrooms,
scared to speak in public. We didn’t realize it until we had world-changing ideas but were too
terrified to share them. We didn’t realize it until we found ourselves unable to say NO, watching
our boundaries get stepped on because we were still that child waiting for permission to exist.
But a legacy of silence does not have to be our future.
We are breaking generational patterns. We are learning that you can end a conversation without
crushing a spirit. We are replacing shut up with words that magic words like:
Hold that thought, I want to give you my full attention when I’m not so distracted.
I hear what you’re saying, and I think that’s a great place to leave it for now.
We were the girls who felt the sting of being silenced. Now, we must be the women who protect
the voices of others and most importantly, our own. We are not just talking,we are reclaiming
the authority that word tried to take away.
I will not be silenced. My voice has weight, my ideas have value, and my presence is intentional.
Don’t shut me up.