For Voices Like Mine That Don’t Fit the Choir

Finding your voice in a room full of people who drown you out with their noise is no small thing. Especially when that room hands you a mic and says, “Speak up for Truth!…as long as you sound just like us.”

What happens when your voice doesn’t match the choir? What happens when your words don’t march with the crowd but drift in a different rhythm? What if your voice carries the weight of all the -isms the institution swore weren’t there but here you are, holding them like receipts no one wants to acknowledge?

You try to speak, and the mob gets louder. You get tired of shouting just to be ignored. You sit down, let the crowd hum their hymn, and pretend like the sound doesn’t make your skin itch. You try on their voice, just to survive—but it fits about as well as shoes two sizes too small.

Here’s the truth they don’t want you to know—our voice? The one that’s quieter but cuts through the noise? It scares them. It’s softer, sure. But softness doesn’t mean weakness. Softness can be sharp. Like the edge of a blade. Like a whisper that somehow feels louder than a scream.

Your voice resists empire—not with trumpets and parades but with the steady hum of truth that keeps people awake at night. They try to drown you out. Because a soft rebellion? A quiet revolution? That’s what changes the world.

Like my mentor once said, their voices have “hiccups.” Wobbles. They try to shout down their own doubts, so they keep the volume high and the substance low. But the gentle ones? The ones who don’t need to roar to be heard? They’re the ones who build movements while everyone else is busy making noise.

So here’s to the silent revolutionaries. The quiet advocates. The gentle warriors who carry storms in their bones and still walk in peace. If only they could stop apologizing for being different. If only they could step out in armor made of clouds—soft enough to soothe but heavy enough to rain down monsoons when it’s time.

Then maybe—just maybe—the world would finally see the beauty of what it means to hold both softness and power.

And the kin-dom they talk about? It might actually get here. Not only with shouts—but joined by whispers that refuse to die.

#QuietRevolution #GentleWarriors  #VoicesUnheard  #KinDomCome #SacredResistance