Silenced.

Photo by Richard Ciraulo on Unsplash

I am center stage. All eyes are on me. I look out and take a calming breath. The room is intimate. I can hear whispers in the back. I can smell the cologne of a man in the fourth row. My heart is pounding in my chest. I wonder if they can hear it.

I have been waiting for this opportunity for a while. I am anxious and I am eager. I am ready to own this moment. Finally, my story will be heard.

I open my mouth to speak the lines I have rehearsed many times. But as the words begin to cross my lips, my voice is drowned out by another. Someone else has begun to tell my story. Except it isn’t my narrative.

I am the villain.

From behind the scenes, he is controlling the audience. They digest his lies. They gasp in surprise. They grow angry with me. I can feel the heat of hatred rising in the room. It is unsettling and I am uncomfortable.

I stand awkwardly, hoping that they will realize that this narrative is untrue. I try to speak louder, so my words are heard. As the volume of my voice increases, the more my sound is drowned out. I am being dubbed over.

Another outrageous lie booms through the room. I can feel eyes collectively glaring at me. I wonder for a moment how anyone can believe this. Then I recognize that nothing I say will change the way this audience sees me. I am no longer the hero. Maybe to…