The Weight of Silence, The Power of Voice

It is nearly two years since I lay in a hospital bed, breathing in that stark clarity that only proximity to death can bring. In that fragile moment, two truths struck me deeply. The first was an overwhelming gratitude and love for my wife, my children and closest family and friends, whose presence in my life is everything. The second was a far more unsettling realisation: I vividly recall hearing my inner voice scream, “You are not expressing yourself - you have lost your voice!”

As this year comes to a close, now feeling healthier and happier than I have done for over a decade, I experienced a tragic loss - the passing of a dear friend. Their absence both leaves a horrible void and another reminder of the fire within me. Grief has a way of stripping life down to its essentials, right? It reminds me, again, that time is fleeting and that we honour those we've lost by living fully, courageously, and without reserve. My friend's early passing reinforces the lesson I began to learn two years ago on that hospital bed: silence is no shelter. The weight of our unspoken truths only grows heavier with time. My friend lived authentically, with kindness, laughter and purpose, and their legacy pushes me to do the same - not just for myself but for the people and causes I care most deeply about.

Shortly after I left hospital last year, my colleague Olivia Mervyn-Smith , somehow sensing the gravity of what I had experienced in a way that others had not, kindly re-shared the writings of Audre Lorde and what I might take from her personal reflections. Lorde, the American poet, philosopher, and civil rights activist, helped me to grapple with my revelation. Her words held up a mirror, forcing me to confront how I had been complicit in my own silence. Somewhere along the way - amidst building a successful business and striving to meet the needs of others - I had sidelined my own need for self-expression. My silence, disguised as safety, had become a modus operandi.

Looking back, my silence was far from benign. It was a betrayal of the creative and challenging spirit that has always defined me deep inside. I had muffled my voice under the weight of a working-class childhood, where survival often meant staying small and safe. I feared imperfection, and I equated success with self-sacrifice and of being in service to others, rather than self-expression and pushing for bolder change with my voice and ideas included, too. Like so many, I had been socialised to respect fear over self-definition. As Lorde teaches us, waiting for the mythical luxury of fearlessness is a trap. That weight of silence was choking me, and, as Lorde so powerfully writes, “Your silence will not protect you.” Yet silence neither sheltered nor fulfilled me. Instead, as I lay on that hospital bed, I felt the void within - a part of me “madder and hotter” than ever before, as Lorde so aptly described.

Today, I stand in the light of my change and realisations. Through hard choices and critical conversation - reshaping both my personal priorities and professional focus, some of which landed well with some and less well with others - I have reclaimed my purpose. This journey has reminded me that our voices are not just for us; they are for the world we wish to shape. As I look to 2025, my mission is to speak my truth and to help others to do the same.

I envision a world where:

• Everyone feels agency, value, and voice - a stake not just in their own future, but in ours collectively.
• Workplaces are spaces of growth, resilience, and purpose - not sources of burnout, disconnection and even trauma.
• Leaders’ theories and ideas are tools grounded in lived experiences, not outdated abstractions.
• Technologies and methods are used to democratise wisdom, inviting communities to co-create meaningful change.

However, this vision requires courage - our courage - to confront the silences within and around us.

As Lorde says, we must go “beyond understanding,” listening not to respond but with true fascination. We must honour the visibility that makes us vulnerable but also unbreakably strong.

So, as I step into 2025, I leave you - and myself - with these questions:

• Will we let our fearless voices be heard?
• Will we listen with fascination to others?
• Will we break the silences that bind us, liberating ourselves and others to do the same?

Together, we can create a legacy of action rooted in truth and collective wisdom. Why? Because, ultimately, our silence has never protected us, our voices - unapologetically expressed together - have the power to make the world a better place.

If you got this far in my post, thanks for embracing my reflective headspace right now.

Happy Christmas folks, and here's to a wonderful 2025!

Oh and if you're not familiar with Audre Lorde - I'm still connecting to her work - check out her legacy and writing online. In the meantime, here's some lovely quotes that have been attributed to her over over time:

"Your silence will not protect you."

"Caring for myself is not self-indulgence, it is self-preservation, and that is an act of political warfare."

"I am not free while any woman is unfree, even when her shackles are very different from my own."

"If I didn't define myself for myself, I would be crunched into other people's fantasies for me and eaten alive."

"Revolution is not a one-time event."

"Life is very short. What we have to do must be done in the now."

"We do not have to romanticize our past in order to be aware of how it seeds our present".

"The master's tools will never dismantle the master's house."

"When I dare to be powerful, to use my strength in the service of my vision, then it becomes less and less important whether I am afraid."

"It is not our differences that divide us. It is our inability to recognize, accept, and celebrate those differences."