They Love Her Pain, But Not Her Power

Society doesn’t mind a woman who suffers. In fact, it romanticizes her.

It writes poems about her tears.
Paints her sadness in soft pastels.
Turns her brokenness into beauty — as long as she stays broken.

A woman crying is art.
A woman silent in pain is noble.
A woman enduring quietly is inspirational.

But the moment she stands up — suddenly, she’s a problem.

When she stops crying and starts speaking, they call her aggressive.
When she walks away instead of waiting to be saved, she’s cold.
When she demands more than pity, they lose interest.

Because the truth is:
They never loved the woman.
They loved the way her pain made them feel powerful.

A woman in pain makes others feel needed.
A woman in pain doesn’t threaten anyone.
A woman in pain fits the image they’re comfortable with — delicate, tragic, controllable.

But a woman in power?
She writes her own story.
She demands space instead of asking for sympathy.
She refuses to stay quiet just to be liked.

And that terrifies them.

They don’t want to see her healed.
They want to see her grateful that she survived.

But she owes no one that gratitude.

Let them keep their poems and pity.
A woman’s strength is not a performance.
Her healing is not for decoration.
Her power is not theirs to soften.

She can mourn. She can rage. She can rise.

And she will — not for them.
For herself.