I hate confrontation. I hate to admit it, but these days it’s been on my mind more than ever. I’ve always been the one to take the high road, keep quiet, and honestly turn the other way when faced with discomfort. But somewhere along the way, I began to wonder if being silent was a strength or fear disguised as composure.
For a long time, I believed that not responding meant that I had “won”. I believed that saying nothing was a quiet rebellion against chaos, a sign I was above it all. Especially, as a woman, you’re taught that restraint equals elegance, that dignity lies in not stooping to others’ levels. I internalized that message deeply, so when something bothered me, I swallowed it. When someone hurt me, I rationalized it. I became the calm one, the collected one, the one who “doesn’t let things get to her”.
Silence can be seen as seductive. It may make you feel safe and untouchable. It may tell you you’re preserving peace. In reality, you might just be avoiding discomfort. Staying silent doesn’t always mean you’ve taken the high road; sometimes it means you’ve taken a detour around confrontation, around the truth, and around yourself.
There’s a version of silence that’s wise, the kind that listens before it speaks, that saves words for when they carry weight. Then, there’s the other kind: the silence born out of fear that your feelings will make someone uncomfortable, that you’ll seem “dramatic,” or that your anger will make you less likable.
I think many women walk this fine line without realizing it. We’re praised for being composed, for not making a scene, for handling things gracefully. But grace without honesty becomes suppression. And suppression, if practiced long enough, starts to look a lot like avoidance. Was I staying quiet to be perceived a certain way, or because I genuinely had nothing to say? At some point, the line began to blur; if silence is elegance, and the tradeoff was standing my ground, then is it really worth it?
I’ve started asking myself a new question, “Am I being silent because it’s wise, or because it’s easy?” Because sometimes taking the high road is just emotional self-abandonment in disguise. It’s choosing stillness when your body is screaming for expression. It’s mistaking detachment for maturity.
There’s a quiet power in speaking up, not shouting or arguing, but asserting. I’m still learning that being honest doesn’t make me combative, that setting boundaries isn’t the opposite of being kind.”
Yes, staying silent can be a noble act. But sometimes, the real high road is using your voice, even when it shakes.