The Silence

Nobody ever asked me why I was quiet.

They just told me to speak up more.

At school, when the teacher would ask a question, I’d often feel the answer get trapped in my throat. But I daren’t let it out.

In an all-boys comprehensive school in Liverpool, even being seen to know the answer was dangerous. At best, you’d get called a teacher’s pet. Most of the time, it’d be much worse.

So I learned to stay quiet. And the story I told myself was that’s how you stay safe.

I took that story with me.

Into work, into meeting rooms. Every time someone asked for input, I’d feel that familiar calculation run… is it safe to speak here?

Managers told me I needed more “presence”. I tried working on my confidence. I read advice that said, “Closed mouths don’t get fed” and “fake it until you make it.”

None of it made a difference.

Because what I realised was: the silence wasn’t a development area.

I was hiding (which was actually a perfectly rational response to the environment I’d grown up in.)

But hiding doesn’t mean you don’t want to be found.

The problem is that nobody ever asks where the silence comes from.

That’s where I’d start.