This past week I published my first book. Let me tell you—hitting that button is no small thing. I have nothing but admiration for anyone who puts their work out there these days. Whether it’s a podcast, a Facebook post, or an Instagram reel, sharing your own words with the world feels like walking into a firing squad.

And I’ll be honest—I was terrified. Not nervous. Not uneasy. Terrified. Terrified that someone wouldn’t like what I had to say, or worse, that I might offend someone with words drawn from my own lived experience.

How crazy is that?

I let fear talk me into waiting. I toned down my voice. I second-guessed myself—all in the name of not upsetting people who already won’t speak to me, or who blocked me years ago because they didn’t like my thoughts in the first place. Thoughts, by the way, based on my actual life.

But here’s the kicker: once I finally did it, once I pressed “publish,” I wondered what on earth had taken me so long. The big, scary thing wasn’t scary at all. Nobody screamed at me. Nobody called me names. Nobody blocked me (at least not that I’ve noticed—I stopped keeping track of that kind of thing ages ago).

And let’s be clear: there’s nothing remotely offensive in my book. Sure, I take a few good-natured jabs at society, but nothing cruel. Yet that alone was enough to paralyze me.

Why? Because this is the world we’re living in.

The other day, I woke up to news that Graham Linehan—Irish comedian and creator of Father Ted—was arrested when he landed at Heathrow. His crime? Tweets. Here’s one of them:

“If a trans-identified male is in a female-only space, he is committing a violent, abusive act. Make a scene, call the cops and if all else fails, punch him in the balls.”

Linehan had already been “canceled” for his pro-woman stance. He lost his job, his marriage, his reputation—all because he refused to say men could become women.

Then there’s Malcolm Gladwell. A video making the rounds shows him admitting he stayed silent about men competing in women’s sports. He believes it’s unfair, but he didn’t dare say it out loud. This is the guy who wrote The Tipping Point, Outliers, David and Goliath. Huge success. And even he was cowed into silence.

That’s how deep fear runs now—fear of saying the “wrong” thing.

Like Gladwell, I’m ashamed I let fear silence me too. I don’t have millions of readers or a publishing empire to protect. I’m just me. But integrity, to me, is worth more than a padded bank account.

I’ve bought every book Gladwell has written. I respect his work. But knowing he held back, knowing he censored himself, chips away at his credibility. I’m glad he’s finally speaking up. I hope more people follow.

And let me be crystal clear: this isn’t just about the trans issue. It’s about any issue. But questioning trans ideology has become uniquely radioactive, treated as more dangerous than anything else. Meanwhile, we still live in America—a country built on the First Amendment. Free speech. Debate. Dissent.

Yet here we are, letting ourselves be bullied into silence by a handful of liberal arts majors.

I say no more.

At the end of the day, publishing my book reminded me of something important: fear only has as much power as we hand over to it. The world may feel like it’s teetering on the edge of outrage 24/7, but we can’t let that stop us from speaking honestly.

Because if we all stay silent, we lose more than just our voices—we lose the ability to connect, to challenge, to laugh, and to grow.

So I’ll keep writing, keep publishing, and keep saying what I think, even if it makes someone uncomfortable. That’s the point of having a voice. And if a few people block me along the way? Well, I wasn’t going to their dinner parties anyway.