No I'm not over it yet: righteous anger, system change and the power of unsilence

The other day, in the pub in which I now work, I saw a man from my old life, the corporate one, who treated me pretty badly.

I got on with my job. I collected glasses, delivered plates of delicious food, I spoke with other customers. I didn't twitch one eyelash.

But later on my break I texted a good friend: "X has come to the pub. I hate him, still."

She replied, the friend who'd watched me two years ago sobbing in disbelief at the manipulations and lies he told after our professional relationship broke down. "Still not over it yet?" she said.

The myth of forgiveness

There's an idea that in order to lead happy lives, we should erase the memory of those who've done us wrong. "You're better than that," "the best revenge is a life well-lived", "still not over it yet?"

The problem with this is firstly, we often repeat patterns, seeking out replacement tormentors in futile attempts to replay the match with a different result.

Secondly, it tempts us to settle for "surviving in spite" of trauma-inducing people and events, rather than "thriving as the result of" adversity. And that's an important distinction: by assimilating our experiences with reflections and research, we become wiser, stronger, and better able to navigate the world.

We don't need to forgive or forget those who wronged us in order to do great things. We don't need to pretend things that happened didn't, or things that hurt were pain free. To be OK today does not require us to rewrite our histories.

Forgiveness benefits the perpetrator most of all. The emotions we need to let pass: the rage, the shame, the urge to violence even. For these will harm us bodily as well as spiritually. But the truth: don't ever relinquish that in the name of being a 'good' or 'healthy' person.

Righteous anger and the alternative entrepreneur

This is where alterative entrepreneurship begins.

The seed of a truly regenerative business is often born in grief over wasted talent, stolen time and squandered care. But from that grief comes design. Better ways of relating. More just ways of working. Slower, saner, more human rhythms.

Alterative entrepreneurs are not evangelists for hustle culture: we’re heretics. We say no. We say enough. We say, there is another way.

Can there be a silent alternative entrepreneur? I'm not sure there can.

Our anger is part of our identity: not destructive but formative. Without it, we would still be in the meetings that never ended. Still trying to explain what “boundaries” mean. Still writing careful feedback to people who didn’t read it.

But we’re not there anymore. We left. We built.

And now, we invite others to follow—not to replicate us, but to remember that standing in opposition to something is the first act of creation. All art is rebellion against what is. All change begins with someone refusing to comply.

So if you feel that anger rising, don’t tamp it down. Don’t breathe it away. Don’t turn it inward. Let it move you. Let it show you what matters. Let it become your compass.

And when the world calls you difficult, dramatic, disloyal—smile. You’re not broken. You’re awake.

And you might just be an alterative entrepreneur in the making.

The Power of Unsilence: Overcoming the fear of speaking out

There’s a particular silence that settles in toxic workplaces. A silence made not of peace, but of fear. It’s the hush that follows when someone questions a policy. It’s the quiet that trails behind every “I’m fine” when someone clearly isn’t. It’s the icy, sharp silence of all the things we don’t say because we want to keep our jobs, be seen as professional, or avoid being branded difficult.

But silence, over time, corrodes the soul. And one of the most powerful things an alterative entrepreneur can do is to unsilence themselves.

Unsilencing is not about shouting into the void. It’s about speaking with precision, care and courage—especially in spaces where silence is the norm. And these days, one of the most visible of those spaces is LinkedIn.

What if we used that space not just to network, but to name what’s broken?

What if we wrote not to promote ourselves, but to expose the narratives that keep others small?

Productive Unsilencing: What It Looks Like

It’s not a rant. It’s not vague or performative. Productive unsilencing tells the truth, with style.

Instead of saying:

"Workplaces are toxic and exploit people. End of story."
Try:
“I once believed that loyalty meant never questioning authority. But I’ve come to see how that belief was weaponised to keep people compliant. I’m learning to define professionalism on my own terms—and to speak up when ‘culture’ becomes code for control.”

This is not about chasing likes. It’s about reaching someone: the person reading your post who’s doubting themselves, wondering if they’re the problem. Your clarity becomes their lifeline. Your truth, not applause, becomes the point.

What Can We Unsilence?

• The myth that a promotion is worth celebrating when it demands more labour to enrich those already at the top.
• The lie that being “resilient” means continuing to beg for inclusion in a system designed to exploit and discard.
• The delusion that staying optimistic in the face of structural injustice is somehow noble, rather than numbing.
• The pretense that individual effort alone can overcome rigged hierarchies, when the rules were never made to be fair.

We can also unsilence joy. Unsilence care. Unsilence the weird, beautiful, unconventional paths we’ve taken to find work that doesn’t hurt.

You won't be alone. LinkedIn is evolving. Like any community, it's responsiveness to every individual in it (though the algorithm tweaks at the start of this year have worked to try and hide 'alternative' content in ways I may talk about in the future).

Style Matters

Righteous anger does not have to be rough. It can be exquisite.

Speak in metaphors. Quote poets. Use screenshots. Reclaim tired corporate phrases and give them new meaning. Style is not just decoration—it’s strategy. It invites engagement while smuggling in truth.

Write as if your voice matters—because it does.

You don't need to shout to feel the power of unsilence

If you've been silent for a long time, you don’t owe anyone a manifesto. Start small. Start honest. “Here’s something I used to believe about work, and here’s why I don’t anymore.” That’s enough. That’s powerful.

Unsilencing isn’t about being loud. It’s about being free.

And every time we speak clearly about what’s broken and what could be better, we shift the culture. Pixel by pixel, post by post, values shift.

Getting Over it is Overrated

Earlier this week I had a dressing down from a boss at work. They'd found my parody account on Twitter and took exception to it (not that I'd named them, or said anything critical...it's mainly jokes from an incompetent waitress). I was called insubordinate, devious and invited to resign. Exactly: here we go again. I'm yet again invited to just please shut up. I have more followers on LinkedIn and Twitter than the company does. And isn't a small company by a long shot.

So to say I felt unfairly handled is true.

I spent two days with my boyfriend, crying lots and being consoled.

I texted him today to let him know I'd written this piece and a few others and so was clearly moving on from the work twat.

"You are proper productive today," he replied. "Maybe you need more of those twats around you to get you to work this much. A so-called motivational twat."

And I thought I'd add this in, because in a sentence this says so much of what is to be said on this: don't get over it. Get on with it. Call it out. Own it. And turn it into something good.

Your sense of refusal, your opposition to what is injust or just plain not for you: this is energy you transform into the alternative.

Still not over it yet.