Silence That Speaks

A Farewell From the Shadows

And here we are. The moment I kind of always knew would come.

My wife is gripped in terror. A deep, primal fear. A fear that someone might connect these words to me. That someone will take them and unravel our lives. She hasn’t demanded that I shut this down. She hasn’t even asked. But I see her fear. It is real. And so it’s time to say goodbye.

It’s been a good run. In less than 30 days, this blog found 168 subscribers and over 12,000 views. I don’t know what standard growth looks like on this platform, but I won’t lie, I’m pleasantly surprised. I set out to carve a small space to express my inner world. A place where my voice, locked away for so many years, could finally breathe. Maybe someone else in hiding would see it. Feel a flicker of recognition.

You are not alone.

The fact that it resonated. The fact that you came here, listened, and gave these words meaning, has done a number on my ego. I won’t pretend it hasn’t felt amazing. So thank you for that. Truly.

I’d like to tell you that I’m angry. But I’m not. I’m hurt.

Ouch.

For a brief moment, I had a platform where I could speak. Really speak. From my heart. Even anonymously, the release of my voice was intoxicating. Like taking a breath of fresh air after holding it for so long. Now, reigning that voice back in feels like a small death. A silencing of something that had only just begun to live. I won’t lie, it hurts.

To those of you reading this from within the frum community, I’ll leave you with a question: Why?

Why are you so afraid of people like me? My voice isn’t hateful. My words carry no venom. No fire-and-brimstone critique. All I’ve done is share my inner world. That’s it. My lived experience, in my words. What sort of community feels so threatened by that?

And if you are not afraid, please speak up. Speak up for those of us who cannot. Be the voice that sounds where ours must fall silent.

Think about this: What kind of community are we, if its survival hinges on silencing voices like mine? Does it remind you of something? The whispers of the Marranos in Spain, forced to hide their truth while the fires of the auto-da-fé raged outside? Is that what you want to be? A community where fear of dissent burns so hot that even the smallest breath of honesty feels dangerous?

You tell yourselves it’s for the greater good. But what does it say about you, about us, if honesty must be buried to protect the illusion of unity? If voices like mine can’t exist without terror? Communities built on kindness and love don’t need to smother their doubters. They don’t need to burn questions to ash.

So ask yourself: What are you really protecting? And at what cost?

I have nothing but love in my heart. Even now.

And so, for now, Goodbye.

Exit98, out.