Everyone Has an Opinion. I Just Happen to Share Mine.

“Unlikeable. Irritating. Can’t stand her. She never shuts up. I wish she’d realize no one cares what she thinks.”

These are just some of the comments I get about my writing. Regularly.

Nothing pisses people off more than a woman with strong opinions.
Nothing pisses off the establishment more than a woman with strong opinions.
And nothing pisses off self-proclaimed thought leaders more than me.

I have no illusions about what people say about me behind closed doors. It always gets back to me — whether it’s leaked by someone in the room or passed along third- or fourth-hand. It doesn’t really matter.

People are entitled to their opinions about me. That’s a part of being a public person with strong views. I don’t expect to be as vocal as I am and not have people talk about me. That’s the nature of the beast.

So why do it?

Because I’ve never been able to do otherwise.
Everyone has opinions. Let’s be honest — I just choose to share mine publicly.

A friend of mine recently sent me this quote:

Systems fear vocal opponents.
People in systems that benefit them hate vocal opponents.
I would know. I used to be one of those people.

I remember being so irritated by folks who criticized the nonprofit sector. I wanted them to stop talking — because when I saw something of myself in their writing, I felt angry. And eventually, ashamed.

So for a long time, I was silent.
Silent about the harm done to me and others.
Silent in rooms where I knew better.
Complicit, even, in the same behaviours I now critique.

I make mistakes. And I keep learning — especially from those who call me in or call me out. I need that as much as anyone else does.

When I get it wrong, I apologize.
Not always perfectly. But sincerely.

Here’s what I know for sure:

Being unlikeable, scary, controversial, loved, hated, tolerated, or completely dismissed — none of that really matters.

I’m a privileged, middle-class white woman living in the suburbs with my blended family and two dogs.
My life isn’t horrendously difficult.
I don’t live in a country where I’ll be jailed for my opinions.
I won’t lose my livelihood because I speak out.
I’ll be okay.

But what I won’t do is be silent.
Not because I think my voice is the most important, but because I know too many people who can’t use theirs.

People who stay quiet out of fear.
People who are silenced by systems that punish them for speaking truth.

The world treats them differently than it treats me.

So yes — I will keep having opinions.

I’ll keep naming harm when I see it.
I’ll keep pointing out injustice when I feel it.

I’ll keep offering feedback.

I don’t need everyone to like me. Or agree with me.
I just need to be, unapologetically, me.

Liz LeClair is a gender-based violence advocate and activist based in Punamu’kwati’jk (Dartmouth, Nova Scotia). She volunteers with Can’t Buy My Silence and is a member of the gender-based violence coalition.

The Coast is proud to offer a platform for its readers to share their diverse opinions on matters of interest to Halifax. The Coast does not necessarily endorse the views of those published, but believes in exercising the rights guaranteed by the Canadian Charter to “freedom of thought, belief, opinion and expression, including freedom of the press.” That said, our editors may reject submissions for any reason, and reserve the right to alter submissions for clarity, length and style. The Coast does not pay contributors for opinion pieces. To submit your opinion piece on any subject, or a counter-argument to the one above, email it to editor@thecoast.ca.

This article appears in Aug 1-31, 2025.