✦ The Modern Heiress

When silence does not mean defeat.

In a corporate Zoom meeting, where composure and diplomacy are often weaponised against women, I found myself repeatedly interrupted, corrected, and dismissed by a male colleague whose behavior teetered between passive-aggressive dominance and overt misogyny. He had, on previous occasions, jokingly called me a “bitch” mocked my expressions, and consistently made belittling remarks even when I spoke with the utmost politeness. His energy was always challenging, asserting himself as a self-appointed authority while undermining mine with a smirk. The emotional and psychological toll of being minimized, ridiculed, and denied space in a supposedly collaborative environment pushed me toward a choice I hadn’t made before: I went silent.

But that silence wasn’t defeat, it was a quiet declaration of war. The moment I handed over the session to him, he grew noticeably more relaxed, as if my “submission” was the validation he craved. But as he took control of the meeting, something remarkable happened: I said nothing. I sat still, smiled softly, and refused to play the reactive role he was used to provoking. One by one, the others in the meeting answered his questions, except me. And within minutes, the comfort he had gained from his false authority began to unravel. He rushed through sections. He looked uneasy. He lost the frame. And all I did was hold my ground in silence.

That single act of stillness flipped the dynamic. It disrupted the predator-prey pattern he’d grown comfortable in. By refusing to react emotionally or fight for space, I created a psychological vacuum, a discomfort that exposed his need for opposition to feel dominant. When I eventually began to speak again, my voice hit differently. Others listened. They paused. They agreed. The space that was denied to me was returned, not because I asked, but because I commanded it through presence and timing. I didn’t reclaim the room with force; I reclaimed it with precision.

It was during this shift that I encountered the word misogynist for the first time. A word that, for the first time, named the invisible war I had been forced to fight. I later read an academic piece in Emerald Insight which explained how misogyny is not always overt but embedded in subtle behaviors that uphold male superiority, especially among educated men who mask it with intelligence and civility (Wright, 2021). It described him exactly, a charming surface, underpinned by control, dominance, and quiet sabotage.

📚 Wright, T. (2021). “Misogyny in Intelligent Men: The Educated and the Evasive.” Emerald Insight

This man had previously labeled me an “overthinker” a subtle yet potent psychological tactic often used against women who think deeply, speak precisely, or challenge surface-level thinking. The truth is, men like this don’t challenge women because they’re better they challenge them because they’re threatened. When they can’t match your clarity, they reframe your insight as a flaw. But I didn’t shrink under the label. I re-centered. I trusted my instinct, my mind, my voice and I reclaimed space not just for myself, but for every woman who’s ever been told to smile less, speak softer, or stop “reading into things.”

Overcoming him isn’t about confrontation. It’s about strategy, presence, and legacy. I’m a fourth-semester part-time student, but I’m also a site manager in a 30-year-old family business. I lead teams. I solve real-world problems. I don’t chase approval, I build systems. He, on the other hand, is a low-level charmer. Racist, creepy, and insincere.

So I stopped seeing him as a threat and started seeing him as a case study. I observe him like a scientist observes behavior patterns. I speak slowly, hold silence like a blade, and stare through his performance with a knowing smile. When he throws jabs, I respond with logic he can’t match. I don’t argue. I dissect.

After one clash, we had a fight and went into a phase of cold silence. That night, after our class ended, I stood outside patiently waiting for my husband to pick me up. Out of nowhere, this same man slowly drove by, getting unusually close to where I stood, hovering in his car, moving deliberately slower, as if testing the boundary of intimidation with nothing but presence. I told my husband about it. The next time he dropped me off at campus, my husband calmly responded with precision. As we arrived, he spotted the man sitting in his own car. Without a word, my husband mimicked the same behavior, slowly driving closer to his vehicle, hovering, and asserting silent presence. And just like that, the man crumbled. He shrank back, visibly startled, even attempting to duck behind his dashboard. Since that moment, he never confronted me directly again. His power dissolved instantly when faced with someone he couldn’t belittle, a man who didn’t need to speak to be heard.

However, that doesn’t mean he changed. He hasn’t. He still makes indirect remarks, occasionally mocks from a safe distance, and remains just as calculating beneath the surface. And the reality is, I have to continue working with him in the same project for the rest of the semester. Not by choice, but by necessity. Our class size is small, the subject options are limited, and this collaboration was assigned. But now, I face him differently, not as a victim of his tactics, but as a woman fully aware of her power, her presence, and her right to occupy space.

I document everything, the comments, the energy, the patterns. It’s not paranoia. It’s self-protection. And each time he tries to discredit me, I come back sharper, more grounded, more untouchable. Because while he plays fake alpha in class, I run real sites, manage real men, and solve real problems. I don’t need charm. I have competence. I don’t need attention. I command presence, even in silence. This isn’t just a personal win. It’s a spiritual, strategic path.

And every time he tries to dim my light, I shine brighter, not with noise, but with knowledge. While he performs, I build. And while he fades, I rise.

—

Your unbothered reputation protector,
Madam Alias Solis
Writer, The Modern Heiress