When the Mic Goes Silent: An unfamiliar glow

She was vibrant.
Not just in color, but in conviction.
Her platforms pulsed with purpose. Her voice carried rhythm, restoration, and a kind of beauty that couldn’t be bought.
And then—quiet.
Not because she lost her way.
But because someone saw her glow and mistook it for a threat.
Someone who smiled in public and manipulated in private.
Someone who had everything money could buy, but still wanted to own her light.
She was doing well.
Too well.
And that’s when the unraveling began.
Not dramatic.
Just subtle enough to make her question herself.
To make her look like the problem.
To make her silence seem like surrender.
The worst part?
The ones who should’ve known better didn’t.
They saw the unfamiliarities and called them flaws.
They watched her dim and said she was fading.
But she wasn’t fading.
She was recalibrating.
She was learning that being misunderstood isn’t a failure—it’s a sign that your truth is too rare for the room.
Pay attention.
When a vibrant woman goes quiet, don’t assume she’s lost.
Ask who’s been dimming her.
Ask what she’s been surviving.
Ask why her glow made others uncomfortable.
And if you see her rising again—don’t just clap.
Protect her.
Understand her.
Let her be unfamiliar and still worthy.
And now?
She’s not asking for help.
She’s reclaiming her rhythm.
She’s rewriting the narrative.
Because vibrant women don’t vanish.
They rise.
They Roister.