They say history is written by the winners, it’s also known that what aspect of history is highlighted or even modified is decided by the governments in power. It isn’t that different from who gets to craft the family narrative, the story of a relationship, whose views are central and a benchmark for others to internally modify their own sense of their lived experiences, or at the very least, alter it when vocalising parts of it. It’s not that different from when we tell children to accept our stories over what is brimming in their small minds so that we experience the least discomfort.
When people with less power sit in silence looking at the more fortunate yell their truth till their silence is silenced further, tucked away deep into a chamber in their psyche and hearts that even they can’t access anymore.
No wonder the general capacity of our society to handle nuance is limited. Some might argue in favour of b/w thinking for practicality’s sake, but I beg to differ. Selective hearing and silencing of perspectives have done little other than promote various kinds of hierarchies, divorce a huge population from their sense of self, and prevent a group’s self-esteem from developing in favour of decorating another group’s mighty egos.
One potent example for me is how people describe their mothers, specially in cultures where straying away from the norm is tangibly punished and individualism is met with despise. So lost are we in the holier than thou and ever so generous image that we eagerly want to clothe our mother in, that we hardly know anything about that person. I have met more people, specially sons who certainly respect their moms but know shockingly nothing about her struggles, hopes, and crushed dreams. In their heads, they are very close and have a disproportionate idea of how much agency has she exercised in her life. It’s also easier that way, for both the general narrative of that culture, and for the avoidance of the deep discomfort that uncovering a different perspective might bring.
The external world that we all share, the texture of it is dominated solely by the internal worlds of people whose perspectives have a place to be seen and heard. There is power in expression, and there is truth in the lost perspectives, some of which can be excavated, found, and unraveled, in part through our curiosity, in part through expanding our capacity to tolerate different realities.
I believe true hierarchy is according to whose internal world is prioritised, whose comfort is upheld and whose peace shouldn’t be dared to rattle.
The inability to entertain different angles of a kaleidoscope doesn’t just lead to social injustices but also prevents us from higher degrees of intimacy with our loved ones. I love language, am a polyglot, and writing is one of my most cherished activities. Yet, I have no qualms in asserting that many times people proficient in linguistics or written language end up dominating and if they harbour corrupted intentions, they can very much manipulate the conversations and quash the voice of a person with lesser ability to articulate, regardless of how logically sound and emotionally authentic it might be.
Unheard voices don’t just evaporate into nothingness, they accumulate and when least expected, erupt in ways that tear apart the fabric of the family/society as we know it. The election of certain controversial world leaders, the ever so growing polarisation in the politics of the seemingly most civilized countries on the planet, the scapegoat child burning down the pretense of a dysfunctional family, execution of fascist ideologies, the person you love but cannot keep out of misery, the truth of his power revealed to the entitled patriarch as he descends into redundancy and loneliness in the biting justice of the old age - all are examples of unvalidated wounds, of voices that are seen not worthy of an audience by those who pay for the auditorium.