You Haven’t Been Voiceless
- Ashley Evans
- 3 days ago
- 2 min read
In 2018, I went to an event for activist, DeRay Mckesson’s new book, where he said something that lodged itself in my chest and never left: “You haven’t been voiceless. You’ve been unheard.”
At the time, I was doing a lot of speaking. Loudly. Often. And usually on behalf of other people. I built a career on showing up with strength, clarity, and conviction. I fought systems. I advocated for communities. I defended people who needed someone to step in. From the outside, it probably looked like I had the firmest, steadiest voice in the room.
But what I didn’t realize then — or maybe didn’t want to admit — is that using your voice for others is not the same as knowing your own. It’s possible to fight battles with boldness and still feel disconnected from the quiet, inner truth of who you are. It’s possible to speak loudly and still not feel heard, especially by yourself.
Which brings me to Oprah. Specifically, that Oprah meme. “Were you silent… or were you SILENCED?”

It’s funny... and it’s not. Because when I heard it the first time, something in me winced. Not because I’d been purposefully silenced, but because I’d spent years learning which parts of myself to lower, tuck away, or save for later. I wasn’t silent, but the voice I projected outward was doing a very different job than the voice I needed inward.
Then came the last several years: a global pandemic, faith and identity shifts, career upheaval, burnout that thinned me out from the inside. It all left me with a lot of noise around me and not much clarity within me. I kept speaking for others, but I couldn’t hear myself. I could show up in strength, but I struggled to recognize what my voice actually sounded like when stripped of urgency, crisis, or responsibility.
That’s what this blog is meant to hold: the process of finding not just a voice, but my voice. The one that isn’t performing, rescuing, explaining, or fixing. The voice that’s honest, curious, and actually mine.
So this is my beginning again — a quieter, truer, more grounded one. If you’ve ever been loud in the world and soft with yourself… if you’ve ever been strong for everyone else but unsure what strength looks like for you… then pull up a seat at the well.
There’s room here for both of us to listen in.



Comments