The first time I let it slide, I told myself it wasn’t a big deal.
It was just a joke. Just a passing comment. Just them being them.
I nodded along, laughed where I was supposed to, and carried on.
Then it happened again. And again. And again.
Until one day, I caught myself sitting across from someone, listening to words that drained the color from my face, and thinking: How did we get here?
And I knew exactly how.
All those moments of silence. All the times I bit my tongue instead of pushing back. Every little excuse I made—It’s fine. It’s not worth making a scene.
Every time a line was crossed and I let it happen, the line moved. Every time I brushed it off, I gave permission.
Not because they were trying to be cruel. Not because they wanted to test me. But because people take cues. They go by what you allow.
And if you don’t believe you deserve better, no one else will either.
So I stopped explaining away the discomfort. A correction here. A refusal there. A well-timed silence when someone expected me to laugh along.
Some people adjusted. Some didn’t. Some left.
And the ones who stayed? They saw me the way I saw myself.
Change the reflection, and the world shifts.
Leave a Reply