a plea to be heard

the democratic value of social media; an essay i submitted for a scholarship

The Ideal Daughter is meek, obedient, and silent. She speaks only when spoken to, and her opinions are never her own. The Ideal Daughter exists to aid her family in any way possible; whether that be through cooking dinner and serving guests, or going to the school her mother had dreamed of. She is a perfect picture of compliance, absent of any individuality. The Ideal Daughter is a pipe dream. She does not, cannot, exist outside the minds of tired parents. She cannot exist beyond the envy of a girl sobbing into her pillow. The Ideal Daughter is just that: an ideal. And ideals cannot become reality. The Real Daughter, the one you can hold and love, the one you can push around and hurt, is outspoken. She is full of ideas and has become loud in her need to voice them. Her thoughts churn in her head, and obedience makes her skin itch. The Real Daughter is broken, not by nature, but by the weight of her silence. She has become jagged, willing to die to mould herself into an ideal. Biting her tongue, she does what she is told— she ignores the way it makes her itch, and the way flames seem to consume her. Because she knows what would happen if she were to speak up. It has happened millions of times before: Nothing. The Real Daughter is doomed to be ignored, to be cast into the corner as those around her mutter to themselves about her Ideal counterpart. Her vote will be steamrolled, and her opinions will die with her. No one will know what she had to say. In death, she will meet the countless others who have been kept silent. She will take her seat between a Palestinian man, and a Black mother. She will sit across from a young trans girl. The Real Daughter will join those who died unheard.

The Real Daughter has two options: She can dislocate bones to fit herself into the mould of the Ideal daughter. Or, she can loosen her tongue and let her opinions out into the world. She can stop trying to fit into the role of the Ideal Daughter. In her heart, she knows that the first option is no option at all; she cannot bear to have her voice go unheard. But the second option scares her. This is all she has known, and this is who years of silence have turned her into.

The daughter is smart. She knows what it means to live in a democracy; she understands that everyone should have their voice heard. But she knows it is not that simple. Who will listen to her? She is nothing and no one; she has spent her life with her lips tilted into a polite smile. Her uncles talk politics, and she stands in the kitchen as she makes tea. She grows tired. The Real Daughter finds herself discarding the notion of the Ideal; she dreams of being heard.

Her saviour comes in the form of a screen. It is ironic, she thinks— she knows the harm these devices can cause. Yet for the first time in her life, she can speak freely and, miraculously, people listen. She is starting to remember what it feels like to have her voice heard. She finds herself posting her opinions— Tumblr, Twitter, Instagram, TikTok, she spends her time organizing her thoughts. She, better than anyone, understands the importance of words. She has been silent her whole life and finally, finally, people are listening. She picks and chooses every word with care, giddy at the thought of someone reading them. She creates; she writes poems and films video essays. She posts them all. She gets comments and likes, and she is on cloud nine. So this is how it feels, she thinks, to be heard. For the first time in her life, she feels seen. The feeling is euphoric. Not everyone likes her work, and she understands that. She does not let herself feel down— does not stop writing. The ability to express herself is magical, and now that she has had a taste, she would not give it up for anything.

The Ideal Daughter dies as the Real Daughter creates. With every opinion voiced, with every thought shared, the Ideal Daughter begins to fade out. She no longer feels the need to remain silent. She is no longer bound by the chains of compliance. You must understand: the death of the Ideal Daughter is not a death at all. She did not exist in the first place. There is only The Daughter. With no one to contest her realness, there is only her: a girl full of ideas. There is no other option. There is only her: full of adolescent curiosity, and the need to be heard. She will still make tea, but she will do it while speaking about politics with her uncles. She will still attend her mother’s dream school, but she will study what she pleases. She will find that her skin no longer itches. When the flames within her burn too hot, she will write about it. Someone out there will read it. And when she dies, and it comes time for those around her to speak about her, they will share her ideas. They will tell tales of a loud girl, outspoken, intelligent and passionate. The Daughter is not doomed. She is not an Ideal; she was not meant to be. Her voice was made to be heard.

What is democracy if not giving a voice to the people? Whether it be through electing representatives, or through freedom of expression— democracy thrives when every voice is heard. Much like the daughter, the people are meant to have a say. Media, particularly social media, has allowed for everyone to have a say. It is a way for people— people like The Daughter— to be heard. To have a say.

The evolution of social media, spaces where anyone can post anything, has allowed for countless insightful works. Whether that be short films and video essays posted to YouTube, articles on Substack or poetry shared on TikTok, access to social media has allowed those who would not have a voice otherwise to be able to express themselves. For girls like me— for The Daughter who, in any other circumstance, would have died quietly, with her tongue bleeding between her teeth, the ability to share their opinions is magical. The act of expressing oneself, particularly as a minority group or someone who would not be able to otherwise, is political— it is democratic. The ability to post whatever you please to a platform and to have people read it is revolutionary. It creates spaces for people to engage with one another, to share their ideas and have meaningful conversations.

A democracy is meant to highlight the freedom of expression of all its citizens. The right to vote, to protest, to express your beliefs; you are meant to have a say. Despite this, for as long as we have valued expression, there have been people who have been left behind. People like The Daughter, who have been buried along with their conviction. However, with the vast technological development of the past century, we have reached a point where anyone with access to a phone is able to have their voice heard. Social media has democratized expression, allowing everyone to have a say. No matter who you are, your voice means something, just as the voice of The Daughter means something. Your voice will be heard. I beg of you; do not die biting your tongue