Questions We’re Not Supposed to Ask
For those of us who have been told we’re too much, too loud, too honest—
This is for the questions we carry when no one makes room for the answers.
This is for the truth that still rises in us anyway.
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There are questions we’re not supposed to ask.
Questions that make systems squirm.
Questions that don’t fit neatly into a mission statement or a funding pitch.
But they come anyway—uninvited and undeniable.
These are the questions that form in the pit of our stomach,
In the silence after a team meeting.
In the moment we realize that “survivor-led” might only apply
to the stories that serve the system.
And not the survivors who dare to lead on their own terms.
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We’re not supposed to ask:
- Who gets to define what a survivor is here?
And who is left out of that definition?
- Are we only valued when we echo the vision of those in power?
- What happens when our truth disrupts their comfort?
- Do they make space for us to lead—or only to agree?
- Are our voices truly welcomed, or only tolerated?
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We’re not supposed to ask:
- Whose story is being told, and who’s telling it?
Is it ours—or are we being used to validate someone else’s image?
- Can we opt out of visibility and still be seen?
Or is silence mistaken for disengagement?
- Are we being witnessed—or extracted?
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We’re not supposed to ask:
- What are they willing to give up for our rise?
Their control? Their image? Their comfort? Their power?
- If our healing requires systems to fall, will they still call it justice?
Or only if it keeps their job secure, their role intact?
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We’re not supposed to ask:
- Is it still community if we have to shrink to stay?
- Is it still solidarity if it ends the moment we say ‘no’?
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And perhaps the most urgent questions of all:
- What happens to us after we ask?
- When we open our mouths and name the harm—will we be held, or handled?
- Are we protected in our honesty, or punished for it?
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We ask anyway.
Because the questions won’t leave us.
Because naming what hurts is part of our healing.
Because silence has never kept us safe—only invisible.
Because our rise requires more than survival.
It requires being heard.
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Still, we know this:
Asking is risky.
Not just because of retaliation.
But because it opens something up—
in us, and in the world.
And if that opening isn’t met with care,
it can leave us even more exposed than before.
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So here is what we hold close when the questions come:
We are not wrong for wondering.
We are not too much for needing answers.
We are not alone in the ache for something more honest.
Even if we are met with silence—we are still powerful for asking.
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This is not just storytelling.
This is documentation.
This is survival work.
This is memory work.
This is a map for others who are questioning too.
And when no one answers—
we remain the proof that the questions mattered.
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We are not just survivors.
We are architects.
We are disruptors.
We are worthy of spaces that rise to meet us, not shrink us down.
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Let this be both a release and a record.
Let this be the breath between battles.
Let this be a reminder that your questions are holy.
Even when they go unanswered.
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Affirmation
I don’t need permission to question what hurts me.
My voice is not a threat—it’s a compass.
And I trust where it leads.
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With love and honor,
Chriseithia
Founder of Black Self Wellth™
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This is sacred work, not open source.
Please honor the heart behind these words.
All rights reserved © Chriseithia Collins | Black Self Wellth™