We finally make a word in. We finally get to say something about us, about our experience. They finally get quiet for just an instant and we are heard. But they are so used to it always being about them, about their lives, their values, their experiences that they immediately interpret our words in a way that is still about them –– they find them ‘relatable’ they say –– and not about anything that actually pertains to us as different from them. And thus our words are deprived of their meaning and a new meaning is assigned to them. And thus even our words become no longer about us. Like usual, like always, it is all about them.

And it might seem like it is just as if we had never said anything. But no, it is much worse. Since now we cannot say that we have been silenced or that we were never given a chance to raise our voice. Now it is our name on that byline, on that bibliography; it is our face on that news picture and maybe later even on that t-shirt or poster. It is our words, repeated back to us in a foreign accent.

And you my reader, as I am, are most likely also one of them thinking these words are about us.