Language & Logic

When I read Animal Farm by George Orwell, Clover’s quiet heartbreak reminded me of a moment in my own life when I stayed silent instead of speaking up. This reflection is about that silence: the kind that feels safer at first, but later makes you realize how much truth needs a voice.

There was a time when I saw something unfair at summer camp but didn’t say anything.

A group of kids was teasing another student for the way she talked. It started as a joke, but then it kept going, and every day it felt meaner. I wanted to tell them to stop, but my throat felt tight. I told myself it wasn’t my business or that someone else would speak up first. When I saw her walking alone, I felt guilty but also scared—scared of becoming the next target. Days later, the teasing stopped, but she stopped talking to people too. That silence stayed in my head.

When I read about Clover and Benjamin watching the rules change but saying nothing, I felt that same weight. They knew something was wrong, yet they stayed quiet because fear felt safer than truth. I understood that silence doesn’t protect you; it only protects the lie. Speaking up can be lonely, but silence can be worse because it slowly eats away at what feels right inside you. I still remember the look on that girl’s face, how sad she was. Maybe if one person had said something, things would have been different.

Now I think courage isn’t about fighting—it’s about refusing to look away when something is wrong, even if your voice shakes.