The Poverty of Voice: What Happens When No One Listens for Long Enough
My body was dismissed by doctors for five years. My workplace assault was dismissed by my boss. The EI system dismissed sixteen years of contributions. At some point, you start silencing yourself.
When I was sixteen and in pain, I told doctors something was wrong. They didn't listen. When I was attacked at work and reported it, my boss didn't believe me. When I became a mother and reached out to the EI system for support, they told me my sixteen years of contributions didn't count.
Three different institutions. Three different ways of saying the same thing: your voice doesn't matter here.
What being silenced actually does to you
The poverty of voice is not just about being ignored once. It's about what happens after enough repetitions. A woman who has been dismissed consistently — by doctors, employers, government systems, partners — starts to do the work for them. She pre-dismisses herself. She doesn't apply for the job. She doesn't report the incident. She doesn't ask for the raise. She has learned, been taught really, that her voice costs more than it returns.
Women are interrupted 33% more often than men — even by other women
Research on gendered communication patterns documents consistent patterns of women being talked over, having their ideas attributed to others, and using hedging language to preemptively soften their positions. This is learned behavior, not innate — the result of decades of feedback that direct speech from women is unwelcome. (George Washington University / Catalyst Workplace Research)
I got sober almost four years ago. The clearest thing sobriety gave me — more than the physical health, more than the mornings — was my voice back. When I stopped numbing everything, I had to actually feel what I thought. What I wanted. What I was not willing to accept anymore. And for the first time in a long time, I started saying it out loud.
Building the voice I was never given
That's what led to Momera. Not a business plan. A conversation I was tired of not having. I was tired of watching mothers make themselves small. I was tired of brilliant women pre-apologizing for having needs. I was tired of a world that called it strength when mothers endured everything silently, and called it difficult when they asked for anything different.
“You are not too much. You have just been too long in systems that were built to make you feel like you are.”
Your voice is not a privilege you need to earn. It is a right that was systematically removed. And taking it back is not arrogance or disruption. It is the most necessary thing.
Becky Tsadilas
Founder, Momera — Movement of Mothers Ending Poverty. Based in Cochrane, Alberta. hello@momera.ca