The Heaviness of Silence

“Speak only if it improves upon the silence.”

This quote, often attributed to Mahatma Gandhi, has lived in my mind for years. It seems profound, yet it also carries an unspoken weight. Does silence always need improvement? And if it does, who decides what qualifies as an “improvement”? These questions began as whispers in my thoughts, but over time, they grew louder.

In India, silence is a revered virtue, particularly for women. It is often seen as synonymous with wisdom and patience. Our mythology, rituals, and art forms celebrate restraint. Even in Bharatanatyam, one of India’s oldest classical dance forms, entire epics are conveyed without a single word. A dancer’s silence is never empty; it’s filled with meaning, emotion, and power.

But silence isn’t always chosen. Often, it is imposed a condition we learn to live within.

Growing up in India, I saw how silence was encouraged as a survival strategy for women. A neighbor who endured her husband’s cruelty did so in silence, her face a mask of composure. A classmate, whose dreams of becoming an artist were dismissed as frivolous, quietly folded into the expectations set for her. Silence was a lesson taught early: it protected you from conflict, from disapproval, from risk.

I carried that lesson into adulthood, but it began to crack as I worked with people whose lives bore the scars of silence. In my practice as a psychologist, I’ve seen how silence can both harm and heal. There was a young woman who came to me after escaping an abusive marriage. Her silence had shielded her for years, but it had also isolated her. When she finally began to speak, it was as though she was reclaiming parts of herself, she had forgotten existed.

But I’ve also encountered silence as an act of resilience. In the war-torn regions of Ukraine and Syria, where I volunteered, silence was a form of solidarity. Women who had lost everything sat together, speaking little but sharing the burden of their grief. Their silence was not empty; it was a declaration of survival.

These experiences forced me to ask: When is silence a refuge, and when is it a barrier?

Silence in Art and Literature

Art and literature have grappled with this question for centuries. In Rumi’s poetry, silence is a path to enlightenment. He writes, “Silence is the language of God; all else is poor translation.” For Rumi, silence is sacred a space where the divine communicates without the clutter of words.

In contrast, Virginia Woolf viewed silence as oppressive. In A Room of One’s Own, she speaks of the systemic silencing of women, whose creative voices have been stifled by societal expectations. Her work is a plea for space literal and metaphorical where women can speak freely.

These interpretations aren’t contradictory; they represent the duality of silence. It can be a sanctuary or a prison, a choice or a constraint.

In Rodin’s sculpture, The Thinker, silence takes on yet another dimension. The figure’s stillness suggests introspection, a moment of profound engagement with one’s inner world. Here, silence is neither sacred nor oppressive it’s contemplative.

In Zen Buddhism, silence is integral to meditation, a practice of quieting the mind to uncover deeper truths. The koans paradoxical questions posed to monks are often met with silence, not because there is no answer, but because silence itself is the answer.

In Native American traditions, silence is often seen as a form of respect and connection to the natural world. A moment of quiet in a ceremonial circle is not empty; it’s an acknowledgment of the sacred space shared by the community and the earth.

Silence in Contemporary Literature

Modern writers have also examined the nuances of silence, particularly as it intersects with identity, power, and resilience. Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, for instance, frequently addresses the silence imposed on women in patriarchal societies. In Purple Hibiscus, silence manifests in the strict, oppressive environment created by the protagonist’s father. His dominance stifles individuality, but the story also explores how breaking silence becomes an act of liberation.

Similarly, Zadie Smith delves into the unsaid in her works, particularly in NW. Here, silence isn’t just about words unspoken but also about the unbridgeable gaps between people of different social classes and experiences. Smith’s characters often navigate their relationships through what remains unsaid, showing that silence can communicate as powerfully as dialogue.

In The Testaments, Margaret Atwood revisits the silenced voices of women under an oppressive regime, following up on the dystopian silence depicted in The Handmaid’s Tale. Atwood’s work shows how systemic silence can be weaponized, yet it also highlights the power of storytelling as a way to reclaim agency.

Through these works, contemporary literature continues the age-old conversation about silence, reframing it in the context of modern struggles. These stories remind us that silence is never neutral it is shaped by the dynamics of power and the realities of survival.

Silence in Modern Culture

While silence has been revered in traditional cultures, it holds a different place in modern society. In today’s hyper-connected world, silence is often equated with invisibility. On social media, where every voice competes for attention, staying silent can feel like being erased.

The rise of "call-out culture" has also redefined silence. To remain silent in the face of injustice is to be complicit. Movements like #MeToo and Black Lives Matter have highlighted how breaking silence can be a form of activism, a way to reclaim power.

Yet, the digital age also breeds a new kind of silence. Despite the constant chatter of notifications and updates, there’s an eerie quietness in online interactions. Behind the screens, people often feel disconnected, even as they broadcast their lives to thousands. The silence here is not chosen but imposed by the limitations of digital communication it’s the loneliness of shouting into the void.

As a psychologist, I’ve seen how this paradox affects mental health. The pressure to maintain an online presence can be exhausting, leading to burnout. At the same time, the silence of being ignored of posting something meaningful and receiving no response can feel deeply isolating.

This modern tension with silence fascinates me. It shows that even in a world that never stops talking, silence still holds power both as a threat and a refuge.

Silence and Gender

Nowhere is this duality more evident than in the realm of gender. In many cultures, women are taught to value silence as a virtue. In India, a “good” woman is often one who speaks softly, listens attentively, and knows when to hold her tongue. This cultural reverence for silence is visible in proverbs and idioms: “A woman’s silence is her strength.”

But this idealization of silence often comes at a cost. When women are discouraged from voicing their ambitions, fears, or desires, silence becomes a barrier to growth. I’ve seen this in the realm of financial independence, where silence about money perpetuates cycles of dependency.

Many of the women I’ve worked with struggled to discuss finances not because they lacked knowledge, but because they were conditioned to view money as a male domain. Breaking that silence was an act of rebellion, a way of asserting their right to autonomy.

One woman I met, a single mother from rural India, started a small tailoring business after years of relying on her husband’s income. Her journey began with a single sentence: “I want to do something of my own.” That sentence, spoken softly but firmly, was her first step toward breaking the silence that had kept her aspirations hidden.

The Global Language of Silence

Silence isn’t unique to any one culture; it is a universal language, albeit one with many dialects. In Japan, silence is a form of communication, a way to show respect or avoid conflict. In traditional tea ceremonies, silence is part of the ritual, a moment of mindfulness and connection.

In Western cultures, silence often carries a negative connotation, associated with awkwardness or secrecy. Yet, even here, it can be powerful. Martin Luther King Jr.’s Letter from Birmingham Jail condemns not only the actions of oppressors but also the “appalling silence of the good people.” His words highlight how silence, when it stems from complicity or fear, can perpetuate injustice.

The Choice to Speak

Today, when I think of Gandhi’s mantra “Speak only if it improves upon the silence”, I see it differently. It’s not about silencing oneself out of fear or deference. It’s about being intentional with our words, ensuring they carry meaning and purpose.

Silence, I’ve learned, is neither good nor bad. It is a tool, a space, a language. What matters is how we use it and when we choose to break it.