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Roshni Quddus

You ask me why I’m silent.

Why when injustice sings, my lips sew closer together. Why when the truth is so easy, fabrications fly out of my very hands.

But tell me, if I speak are you willing to listen? If I reveal the truth to you, are you willing to believe it? Will you lend me an ear… or will you question my integrity?

Will you ask what I was wearing or why I spoke the words I spoke? Why I didn’t scream; why I didn’t fight?

The less I meet your standards, the less I am a victim, and the less I am worthy of your time.

So when I am silent, tell me, is it no different from when I speak?