When Speaking Up Makes You a Target: On Power, Silencing, and the Cost of Being Honest
I’ve spent years helping people understand boundaries—where they begin, where they end, and how to hold them when people or systems try to bulldoze through. Over and over, I’ve had to draw those lines myself—not just with people, but with institutions that were never designed to center the person on the other end of the phone line.
The Power of Vagueness
One thing I’ve learned is this: systems are rarely straightforward. They thrive on vagueness. Contracts are written in ways that are hard to interpret. Policies shift depending on who answers the phone. Decisions are explained in legalese that’s meant to confuse rather than clarify.
These structures go right up to the line without fully crossing it—or cross it just enough to leave you stuck in a nightmare of arguments. And when you don’t understand? They act surprised and judgmental, as if the confusion is your fault.
We’re seeing this right now as women connected to the Epstein files prepare to speak publicly. Survivors are risking everything to tell their truths, while lawmakers push for transparency. Yet at the same time, vague promises of confidentiality and selective disclosure threaten to bury or twist their voices in the process. It’s a familiar playbook: power cloaked in language that sounds protective while quietly protecting itself.
Silencing in Education, Healthcare, and Law
I’ve seen this play out across systems—whether in schools, healthcare, insurance, or courtrooms.
In education, parents who advocate too strongly for their child can be labeled “difficult” or “noncompliant.”
In healthcare, patients or providers who question inconsistencies are dismissed as “confused” or “misinformed.”
In family law, protective parents who raise concerns about abuse may be accused of exaggerating, overreacting, or even manipulating.
The details differ, but the strategy is the same: shift the focus away from the issue and onto the person raising it.
The Legacy of Mislabeling
This tactic isn’t new. I watched it happen in my own family growing up, when the mental illness my mom had was dismissed with cruel labels instead of understood with compassion. And I see it in the wider world today:
Black women being written off as “angry.”
LGBTQ+ people accused of having an “agenda.”
Neurodivergent people told they’re weird.
Women who set boundaries mocked as “Karens.”
Labels become shortcuts. They erase nuance. They silence truth.
Power, Status, and Who Gets Heard
The throughline across all of this is power—who has it, and who doesn’t. Who the manager, judge, teacher, or administrator listens to. Rarely is it the person with lived experience. Most often, it’s the one with the title, the money, or the influence.
The Pushback Doesn’t Mean You’re Wrong
If you belong to any marginalized or stigmatized group, you already know the cost of speaking up. The pushback is real. But pushback doesn’t mean you’re wrong. More often, it means you’ve touched a nerve someone doesn’t want to acknowledge.
We’re told to sit down, calm down, be quiet. But every time we speak, even if our voices shake, we disrupt that narrative.
Why I Keep Speaking
I guess we’ll see how this plays out with the survivors connected to the Epstein files. But I won’t stop speaking up—for them, for my clients, and for myself.
Because silence doesn’t protect us. Truth does.
And the more we speak, the more we remind the system: We see you. We are wide awake. And we are not going anywhere.
This one speaks to one of my own battles currently: To the Parents Waiting for the System to Catch Up, From the Mother of a Disabled Child.
You are not alone. We are not alone.