The Cost of Silence: Why Our Stories Matter

Inherited Silence: The Stories We Were Told Not to Tell

Some stories were never written down —

not because they weren’t important,

but because they were too painful…

too complicated…

too disruptive to be named.

In homes across the diaspora, silence is woven into the fabric of our upbringing.

We are told:

• “What happens in this house stays in this house.”

• “Don’t speak unless spoken to.”

• “It’s in the past. Just move on.”

• “They meant well. Let it go.”

So we don’t ask the questions.

We don’t talk about the breakdowns, the betrayals, the mental illness, the loss, the grief, the sacrifice.

We don’t talk about the brilliance either — the dreams deferred, the talents ignored, the voices stifled to keep the peace.

This is not just emotional silence — it is cultural erasure.

It’s how trauma lives on in the bloodstream but disappears from the oral record.

It’s how generations forget what we survived — and who we really are.

And yet… silence has a cost.

It shapes our self-worth, our confidence, our relationship to truth.

It leaves us carrying shame that never belonged to us.

It steals the lessons, the legacy, and the language of those who came before us.

To break that silence is not betrayal.

It is restoration.

In this blog, we’ll explore how silence has been passed down through generations of Black and bi-racial women — and why telling our stories is an act of resistance, healing, and reclamation.

When Silence Becomes Survival: Cultural Taboos and Generational Secrets

In many Black and bi-racial families, silence has been passed down not as neglect — but as protection.

Our grandmothers knew what it meant to be punished for speaking.

Our mothers learned that raising your voice too often meant losing your job, your reputation, or your freedom.

And so, silence became a shield — a way to stay safe in a world that was never neutral.

But what was once meant to protect us… now keeps us fragmented.

Taboos We Dare Not Touch

There are entire chapters of our family histories that have been sealed shut.

Topics marked “off-limits” — too controversial, too shameful, too painful.

• Abuse swept under the rug

• Mental illness explained away as “just stress”

• Absent fathers never named

• Colorism never confronted

• Colonial trauma never acknowledged

• Dreams never spoken aloud

And we grow up internalizing those silences as truth.

We fill the gaps with our own insecurities.

We inherit shame that should never have been ours.

The silence doesn’t erase the pain — it amplifies it.

It isolates.

It disconnects us from the women who came before us.

And worst of all, it robs the next generation of their map to healing.

What Silence Teaches Us (And What It Doesn’t)

Silence teaches us to endure.

But it doesn’t teach us how to heal.

It teaches us how to function.

But not how to feel.

It teaches us how to bury the story —

But not how to own it.

And in the absence of story, there is distortion.

When we don’t tell our truths, others tell them for us — and they never get it right.

Breaking the silence is not about broadcasting trauma.

It’s about reclaiming authorship.

It’s about saying: This happened. This shaped me. And this is how I’m choosing to move forward.

Why Our Stories Matter: Power, Legacy, and Liberation

Telling our stories doesn’t just disrupt silence —

it rewires the narrative.

It reclaims what was stolen, erased, or distorted.

And it reminds us that we are not simply survivors of history —

We are the authors of what comes next.

Power: Reclaiming the Right to Be Heard

Storytelling is not a soft art — it’s a radical act.

For Black and bi-racial women, to speak truthfully in a world that has misrepresented us for centuries is nothing short of revolutionary.

It says:

• “I don’t need permission to exist in fullness.”

• “I will not be reduced to stereotype or silence.”

• “I get to define my own voice, on my own terms.”

Whether it’s through memoir, music, poetry, conversation, or content — telling your story asserts your humanity in systems that have often denied it.

This is more than expression — it’s power reclamation.

Legacy: What We Leave Behind

When we tell our stories, we don’t just speak for ourselves —

we create a trail for those coming behind us.

Every time a Black woman names her truth, she chips away at the generational silences that held our mothers and grandmothers hostage.

Every time she writes her experience, she gives a niece, a goddaughter, a mentee, or a daughter a map.

We pass down more than trauma.

We pass down truth.

And truth, spoken with love and clarity, is what legacy is made of.

Liberation: The Freedom to Be Fully Known

Telling your story is not about perfection. It’s about presence.

It’s about being seen — fully, messily, unapologetically.

When we hide parts of our lives, we often hide parts of ourselves.

But when we speak, write, or even whisper our truths — we release the pressure to perform, to protect, to prove.

We liberate ourselves from the myth of invisibility.

We give ourselves permission to be whole — not just edited.

And in doing so, we make space for others to do the same.

You Were Never Meant to Be Silent

You are the continuation of stories that were buried.

You are the voice someone before you never got to use.

You are the living evidence that silence does not get the final say.

Your story matters — even if it’s messy.

Even if you’re still living through it.

Even if no one believed you the first time you told it.

Even if you were taught to keep it quiet.

Telling your story is not just about healing the past — it’s about expanding the present.

It’s about creating a world where the next generation of Black and bi-racial girls do not have to unlearn silence before they can love themselves.

So write it down. Speak it aloud.

Share it with someone who needs it.

Whisper it to yourself if that’s all you can manage right now.

Because the moment you tell your truth —

you step into authorship.

And authors don’t just survive the story — they shape it.

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Further Reading & References

• Lorde, Audre. (1984). Sister Outsider: Essays and Speeches.

• hooks, bell. (2000). All About Love: New Visions.

• Crenshaw, Kimberlé. (1991). Mapping the Margins: Intersectionality, Identity Politics, and Violence Against Women of Color.

• Bryant-Davis, Thema. (2005). “Survivor Narratives: Reclaiming Voice Through Storytelling.” The Counseling Psychologist.

• The Black Women Radicals Oral History Project – https://www.blackwomenradicals.com

• Therapy for Black Girls – https://therapyforblackgirls.com

• McKenzie, L. (2023). “The Silence We Inherit: How Black British Women Reclaim Voice.” Black Ballad.