Past Projects
2020-2021
Original (2021)
Offensive to Some (2021)
2024-2025

Persistent Thoughts

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What Does It Cost to Speak? Fear, Power, and My Feminism


Have you ever wanted to express a different perspective, but paused to consider how it might be received?


I have.


That pause has made me curious about a larger question: why do some people feel free to speak and choose, while others must first weigh their circumstances?


I am Shazia Shaheen. Born and raised in Pakistan, I now call Newfoundland and Labrador home. I am a mother, a human rights professional, and an intersectional feminist. My work alongside equity-seeking communities and people living at the margins has shaped how I understand belonging, power, and social justice.


My feminism did not begin with a single defining moment. It grew through listening, learning, questioning, and noticing how differently people experience the world.


I have come to understand that fear is not always about individual confidence. Sometimes it reflects an awareness of power differences, limited resources, uncertainty, or the possibility of losing a valued opportunity or sense of belonging. These realities can influence whether someone raises a concern, expresses a need, or makes a choice.


And the circumstances are not the same for everyone.


Legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw, who introduced the concept of intersectionality, describes it as “a lens through which you can see where power comes and collides, where it interlocks and intersects.”


This understanding speaks to my experience. Gender, race, class, disability, religion, migration status, and other aspects of our identities do not operate independently. They interact with social and institutional structures, shaping our access to resources, our exposure to barriers, and sometimes our sense of safety.


Our identities do not inherently make us vulnerable. But their interaction with inequitable systems can create precarious circumstances. What may look like a straightforward decision from the outside can involve complex judgments about security, support, opportunity, and risk.


So I often ask:

How meaningful is a choice when the conditions for exercising it are constrained?


The inequitable distribution of resources and decision-making power matters here. Even initiatives designed to support equity-deserving groups can miss their purpose when the people affected have limited opportunity to define their needs or influence the decisions that shape their lives.


For me, equity requires more than offering everyone a choice. It means paying attention to the barriers that affect whether that choice is genuinely accessible, informed, and freely expressed. It also means respecting people's agency and seeking meaningful participation and consent rather than assuming we know what is best for them.


Decisions made for people are not necessarily decisions made with them.


Maya Angelou observed, “You develop courage by doing courageous things, small things.”


I value that reminder. Courage might mean asking a question, expressing a different view, or reconsidering an assumption. Yet we should not place the entire responsibility for change on individuals. We also need to consider how to create environments in which people feel able to participate without unnecessary fear.


This is where my feminism meets my interest in theatre.


As Vice-Chair of PerSIStence Theatre Company, I am drawn to the possibilities of storytelling. Policies, education, and human rights frameworks matter deeply to me, but stories can invite a different kind of reflection. Theatre allows us to encounter experiences beyond our own, question familiar assumptions, and notice voices and perspectives we may have overlooked.


I am an intersectional feminist because I believe equity is inseparable from dignity, belonging, meaningful choice, and the ability to shape one's own life. I continue to learn and unlearn; I certainly do not have all the answers.


But I hope to keep asking questions that matter:


Who feels able to speak? Who helps shape the decisions? And what would it take for more people to exercise their choices with dignity, agency, and a genuine sense of belonging?


*


Shazia Shaheen is Vice-Chair of PerSIStence Theatre Company. Find her bio, and those of our other board members, here.

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Published on

What Does It Cost to Speak? Fear, Power, and My Feminism


Have you ever wanted to express a different perspective, but paused to consider how it might be received?


I have.


That pause has made me curious about a larger question: why do some people feel free to speak and choose, while others must first weigh their circumstances?


I am Shazia Shaheen. Born and raised in Pakistan, I now call Newfoundland and Labrador home. I am a mother, a human rights professional, and an intersectional feminist. My work alongside equity-seeking communities and people living at the margins has shaped how I understand belonging, power, and social justice.


My feminism did not begin with a single defining moment. It grew through listening, learning, questioning, and noticing how differently people experience the world.


I have come to understand that fear is not always about individual confidence. Sometimes it reflects an awareness of power differences, limited resources, uncertainty, or the possibility of losing a valued opportunity or sense of belonging. These realities can influence whether someone raises a concern, expresses a need, or makes a choice.


And the circumstances are not the same for everyone.


Legal scholar Kimberlé Crenshaw, who introduced the concept of intersectionality, describes it as “a lens through which you can see where power comes and collides, where it interlocks and intersects.”


This understanding speaks to my experience. Gender, race, class, disability, religion, migration status, and other aspects of our identities do not operate independently. They interact with social and institutional structures, shaping our access to resources, our exposure to barriers, and sometimes our sense of safety.


Our identities do not inherently make us vulnerable. But their interaction with inequitable systems can create precarious circumstances. What may look like a straightforward decision from the outside can involve complex judgments about security, support, opportunity, and risk.


So I often ask:

How meaningful is a choice when the conditions for exercising it are constrained?


The inequitable distribution of resources and decision-making power matters here. Even initiatives designed to support equity-deserving groups can miss their purpose when the people affected have limited opportunity to define their needs or influence the decisions that shape their lives.


For me, equity requires more than offering everyone a choice. It means paying attention to the barriers that affect whether that choice is genuinely accessible, informed, and freely expressed. It also means respecting people's agency and seeking meaningful participation and consent rather than assuming we know what is best for them.


Decisions made for people are not necessarily decisions made with them.


Maya Angelou observed, “You develop courage by doing courageous things, small things.”


I value that reminder. Courage might mean asking a question, expressing a different view, or reconsidering an assumption. Yet we should not place the entire responsibility for change on individuals. We also need to consider how to create environments in which people feel able to participate without unnecessary fear.


This is where my feminism meets my interest in theatre.


As Vice-Chair of PerSIStence Theatre Company, I am drawn to the possibilities of storytelling. Policies, education, and human rights frameworks matter deeply to me, but stories can invite a different kind of reflection. Theatre allows us to encounter experiences beyond our own, question familiar assumptions, and notice voices and perspectives we may have overlooked.


I am an intersectional feminist because I believe equity is inseparable from dignity, belonging, meaningful choice, and the ability to shape one's own life. I continue to learn and unlearn; I certainly do not have all the answers.


But I hope to keep asking questions that matter:


Who feels able to speak? Who helps shape the decisions? And what would it take for more people to exercise their choices with dignity, agency, and a genuine sense of belonging?


*


Shazia Shaheen is Vice-Chair of PerSIStence Theatre Company. Find her bio, and those of our other board members, here.

0 Comments