The Courage to Speak Up: Why Women’s Voices Still Get Silenced (and How We Can Rise Anyway)

By Dr. Hanene Tliba

There are two moments in a woman’s life that change everything:
The first is when she begins to hear her own voice.
The second is when she dares to use it — out loud, without apology.

I’ve lived both.
And I’ve also lived the long, aching silence in between.
The years of being seen as competent, professional, kind — yet never quite heard.
The years of being told I was “too ambitious,” “too intense,” “too emotional,” “too much.”

Let’s be clear: women’s voices are still silenced, every day — not just by systems or structures, but by a culture of quiet compliance that seeps into our bones and teaches us to doubt ourselves before we’ve even begun to speak.

The Silent Conditioning

We are not born quiet.
We are born crying — our first language is volume. But quickly, we’re taught to be careful, nice, agreeable. To wait our turn. To not interrupt. To soften our edges.

As girls, we’re praised for how well we listen, not how bravely we speak. We’re told that confidence can be arrogance, that strength can be threatening, that anger is unattractive.

And so, slowly, we trade truth for safety.

We become experts at reading the room.
We edit ourselves before anyone asks us to.
We apologize — not just for our mistakes, but for our existence.

My Breaking Point

I’ve been a dentist for over a decade. I’ve built a successful clinic, led teams, built trust with hundreds of patients.
But none of that protected me from the subtle forms of erasure.

In meetings, I’ve been interrupted.
In conferences, I’ve been overlooked.
As a woman, as a mother, as an Arab professional in a Western context — I’ve learned how easy it is for a woman’s voice to be heard, but not listened to.

There was one particular moment — at a professional event, surrounded by men who took up space without a second thought — when I realized I was tired of waiting. Tired of translating myself into something smaller, softer, safer.

That night, I promised myself: I will no longer speak to be accepted.
I will speak to be real. To be free. To be fully me.

The Birth of a Voice

That promise became my podcast: “Speak Up Rise Up.”

I didn’t launch it for likes or recognition. I launched it because I needed oxygen.
A space to say the things I was told not to say.
A space where other women could exhale too.

On the podcast, I speak with women who have dared to show up — in business, in art, in motherhood, in moments of collapse and rebirth.
Their stories are raw. Unpolished. And deeply human.

A woman who lost her voice in the noise of motherhood.
Another who rebuilt herself after betrayal.
One who left a high-powered job because it was killing her slowly.

Their voices are shaking, strong, sacred.
And in each one, I hear a part of myself.

Why Silence Persists

In 2025, we like to believe we’ve come far. And in many ways, we have.
We see women on stages, in leadership, in politics.

But the silencing has become more subtle.
It shows up in praise that’s really a warning:
“You’re so well-spoken — just be careful not to be too emotional.”
“You’re a great leader — but maybe let someone else present next time.”

It shows up in how women doubt their own words before they leave their mouths.
In the way we shrink our emails with emojis and soften our truths with disclaimers.
In the way we ask for permission to exist at full volume.

The Revolution Begins in the Voice

When a woman speaks up — for herself, her truth, her needs — she begins a quiet revolution.

She sends ripples across her family, her team, her community.
She models bravery for her daughters — and her sons.
She builds a world where visibility is not something women have to fight for — but something they own.

Speaking up is not always loud.
Sometimes, it’s the decision to finally say “No” when you mean no.
Or “I’m not okay.”
Or “I want more.”

Sometimes, it’s sitting at the table and not apologizing for being there.

We Rise Together

If there’s one thing I’ve learned from the women on my podcast, it’s this:
We don’t rise alone. We rise when we hear each other.

We rise when we share our stories without shame.
When we hold space for one another’s rage, grief, joy, and ambition.
When we remind each other that our voices are not too much — they are medicine.

This is not just about empowerment.
It’s about liberation.
It’s about remembering who we were before we were told to be quiet.

Your Voice Is Your Legacy

To every woman reading this:
If you’ve ever felt too loud, too sensitive, too ambitious — know this: you’re not too much.
You were simply in a world that feared your power.

But the world is changing.
And your voice is part of that change.

So speak.
Even if it shakes.
Even if no one else is ready.
Even if you’re the first in the room to do so.

Because somewhere, another woman is holding her breath — waiting for someone to go first.

Let that someone be you.
Speak up. Rise up. The world is listening.