Speaking My Mind? Blame It on My Father
“You finally found your voice,” a friend remarked the other day. He was referring to some of my recent postings, where I’ve begun speaking out and commenting on issues that matter to me. For years, I wasn’t that person. I kept my thoughts to myself—whether out of politeness, fear of criticism, or the belief that my words didn’t matter. It felt easier to stay silent than to risk saying something that might stir disagreement. But lately, I’ve come to realise that silence is not always harmless. Sometimes silence means complicity. And if you see something wrong yet choose to keep quiet, you’re still part of the problem. When I think about this shift in me, I cannot help but think of my late father. He was a man who never struggled to find his voice. In fact, he often spoke when others hesitated. I remember how, at family gatherings, he would challenge relatives on their views if he felt they were wrong, even if it made the room uncomfortable. At work, he was...