Your silence doesn’t make you invisible. It highlights you. You’re hoping that by keeping quiet you’ll blend into the background, but you just bring yourself to the forefront. Sometimes the absence of sound is more deafening than a wind tunnel, the choice to not speak more obvious than screaming.
People remember the words you say to them. In anger, in grief, in moments of weakness. They store them away somewhere dark and cold and, in quiet hours, they roll them around in their minds. Turning them over so many times they become polished like a gem stone. But they also remember your silence. They’ll wonder why you didn’t speak, what they did to misplace your loyalty. They’ll fill your quietude with their own interpretations. In the end, you wind up saying something either way. A muzzle is a statement. And what you leave open for interpretation, others will take.
Neutrality is a lot more rare than we believe it is in a word where shades of gray are few and far between. We live on a black and white planet because, ultimately, we’re black and white creatures. Silent, invisible wars are being waged everyday. Small moves are subscriptions to sides. If you don’t make it very clear where you stand, you may find yourself in shifting sands.