Whisper becoming a Roar - rewriting the narrative

There’s a collective movement that's been bubbling away. In therapists’ offices. In GP clinics. In late-night texts. In whispered breakdowns in supermarket aisles. It’s a quite rage that’s been decades in the making. Many women, including mothers, carers, professionals, are burning out. Not just from workload.

Societal expectations shaped us, in childhood, in adolescence, and again as we stepped into adulthood.

The message was repeated, subtle but constant:

Be accommodating.

Be grateful.

Be easy to be around.

Be useful.

Never too loud.

Never too angry.

Never too ambitious.

The rules followed: why does it now hurt?

Why is their health breaking down?

Why do they sometimes cry in the car before work?

Why do they feel invisible in the systems?

They are awakening.

Awakening to the ways their labour was often taken for granted.

To the relationships that knowingly or unknowingly silenced them.

To the careers that underpaid them.

To the medical systems that dismissed them.

To the social scripts that celebrated their compliance while erasing their needs.

And now they are realising they are angry.

It’s the rage of recognition. The fury of finally naming what was never fair.

The refusal to stay quiet while carrying everyone else’s needs.

This isn’t about abandoning responsibilities. It’s about reclaiming self-responsibility.

To rest.

To rage.

To reset.

This is not a breakdown. It is a breakthrough.

Now it’s time to rewrite the narrative.

Action doesn’t have to be loud or public. Sometimes, it looks like:

Starting a conversation and express yourself.

Resting without guilt.

Saying, “That hurt,” even to someone you love.

Changing your mind.

Saying, “I’m sorry,” and meaning it.

Letting go of roles that no longer fit.

Saying yes to softness, and no to survival mode.

This is the new narrative:

We don’t have to choose between truth and belonging.

Between accountability and compassion.

Between anger and grace.

We are allowed to evolve. And we’re allowed to do it imperfectly.

We rewrite the narrative not just by telling new stories, but by living them.

In the way we raise our children.

In the way we speak to our partners.

In the boundaries we hold.

In the apologies we give.

In the softness we allow ourselves.

This is how we honour the past and shape a new future.

With quiet courage, with radical honesty.