Context 

How does it feel to live inside a society that never truly learned how to see you?

Not because you disappeared, but because certain ways of speaking, moving, feeling, or existing were treated as things to correct instead of understand.

For years, I became conscious of how expression could be monitored. Certain gestures, emotions, behaviors, and forms of softness attracted scrutiny long before I understood why. Over time, silence became less of a decision and more of a survival mechanism. Parts of myself became edited before they could even fully emerge.

Reclaiming My Lost Voice began from that tension.

Butoh gave me a language for experiences that ordinary explanation could not fully hold. Its slow, raw, and often uncomfortable movement allowed me to work through memory, visibility, fear, fragmentation, and resistance without reducing them into neat conclusions.

This performance is deeply personal, but it is not only about me. It reflects broader questions about identity, conformity, shame, visibility, and the human cost of constantly reshaping oneself to remain socially acceptable.

Through movement, theatrical imagery, stillness, and symbolic composition, the work became a way of confronting silence instead of continuing to live inside it.