A Place Where No One Asks Permission

This space exists so my voice — and others’ — don’t have to ask permission again.

I am not writing to convince.

I am not writing to translate myself into something acceptable.

I am writing because what I carry arrived whole, and I refuse to break it down into pieces small enough to be ignored.

For a long time, silence was presented as wisdom.

Patience as virtue.

Waiting as maturity.

But silence was never neutral.

It was taught.

Enforced.

Rewarded.

Especially for women.

Especially for those who see, feel, hear, and remember beyond what can be neatly explained.

This Chronicle exists because I am finished asking if my experiences are allowed to take up space.

My thoughts do not need permission.

My visions do not need consensus.

My music does not need justification.

It arrived.

Therefore, it matters.

Here, words and sound are not filtered for comfort.

They are offered as they came — lived, felt, and true.

This is not a performance.

It is a record.

And if others recognize themselves in these pages, let it be known:

You do not need to shrink your truth to make it palatable.

You do not need to wait until it is safe to speak.

You do not need permission to be whole.

This space is open because silence has had enough centuries.