The Concert That Got Me Thinking
I was at an outdoor concert with a friend I’ve known for decades, surrounded by people from all walks of life enjoying an evening of live music. I found myself admiring the outfits, the snatches of conversation, and the easy camaraderie of humans gathered together.
And then I noticed something else.
Women kept apologizing for simply existing and moving through shared space.
“I’m sorry, can I have a chair?”
“Oops, I’m sorry, can I get through here?”
“I’m sorry, I can’t see.”
“I’m sorry, I’d like to order now.”
And the most startling one:
“I’m sorry, but you just stepped on my foot.”
That one stayed with me.
Because an apology is for repair. It is for acknowledging harm, taking responsibility, and reconnecting when something has gone sideways.
But an apology is not the price of admission for having a body, a need, a boundary, a preference, or a voice.
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The Language of Shrinking
In my work with folks who are exploring communication, feelings, self-advocacy, and boundary setting, my ear is readily tuned to hear these small language patterns. In sessions, I may gently point out the word choice and offer an opportunity to reframe the sentence so the person can get their point across clearly while still retaining their dignity.
I think about this a lot.
How many times do we frame our requests so they will be more “acceptable,” more palatable, or more likely to be liked? How often do we soften, shrink, over-explain, or apologize before we have even made the ask?
And for many of us, the work does not start with the perfect sentence. It starts underneath the sentence.
It starts with remembering our rights.
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A Workbook That Stayed With Me
Years ago, during my internship, back in the first George W. Bush presidency, I had access to discounted books at the facility where I worked for nine months. I bought many workbooks, and the one I still use at least weekly is The Anxiety and Phobia Workbook by Edmund J. Bourne, Ph.D.
While I don’t love the title, I mean, it is to the point, but who wants that title sitting on their desktop or bedside table? I do love the content in this book, particularly the chapter on assertiveness.
I have used parts of that chapter for years, and yes, I did actually write to Dr. Bourne to ask his permission to use his work. He wholeheartedly encouraged me to share the tools and information widely.
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The pages I probably return to the most are the ones outlining our Personal Bill of Rights.
Speaking Your Rights Aloud
At some point in our sessions, I often invite clients to read these rights aloud, one by one.
Not skim them.
Not nod quietly.
Actually say them. Aloud.
There is something powerful and enduring about voicing something we want to believe, but may have never actually said aloud.
Over the years, I’ve seen a wide range of responses to this exercise. Some folks balk at the request. Others breeze through it. Some pause. Some laugh nervously. Some find their voice cracking to a whisper when they reach a particular right. Others have tears trickling down their cheeks as they say the words aloud.
It is a privilege to bear witness to people stating their rights. Each experience feels impactful, not only for the client, but for me as well.
These rights are not about being demanding, selfish, or unkind. They are not about steamrolling others or insisting we always get our way.
They are about remembering that we are allowed to have needs, limits, feelings, preferences, space, and a voice.
They are the cornerstone, the bedrock, beneath our ability to say no to something we don’t want, to ask for what we need, and to set boundaries with clarity.
And yes, they can help us make a request or state a need without apologizing first.
So take a moment and read these aloud. Hear your own voice, even if it cracks or shakes.
Personal Bill of Rights
I have a right to ask for what I want.
I have a right to say no to requests or demands that I cannot meet.
I have a right to express all of my feelings, positive and negative.
I have a right to change my mind.
I have a right to make mistakes and do not have to be perfect.
I have a right to follow my own values and beliefs.
I have the right to say no to anything if I feel that I am not ready, if it is unsafe, or if it conflicts with my values.
I have the right to determine my own priorities.
I have the right not to be responsible for the actions, feelings, or behavior of others.
I have the right to expect honesty from others.
I have the right to be angry at someone I love.
I have the right to be myself. To be unique.
I have the right to express fear.
I have the right to say, “I don’t know.”
I have the right not to give excuses or reasons for my behavior.
I have the right to make decisions based on my feelings.
I have the right to my own personal space and time.
I have the right to be playful.
I have the right to be healthier than those around me.
I have the right to feel safe and be in a non-abusive environment.
I have the right to make friends and be comfortable around people.
I have the right to change and grow.
I have the right to have my wants and needs respected by others.
I have the right to be treated with dignity and respect.
I have the right to be happy.
Reference: Bourne, E. J. (2000). The Anxiety and Phobia Workbook (3rd ed.). New Harbinger Publications.
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Notice What Happens
Which ones gave you pause?
Which ones were a breeze?
Which ones did you wish you could say to someone in your life right now?
Which ones made you bump a bit and question the context?
All responses are information.
The pause is information.
The resistance is information.
The crack in your voice is information.
The one you want to argue with may be especially important.
Be curious. Ponder. Be kind to yourself.
Then write down one or two rights you want to have more present in your life.
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Place them somewhere you will run into them a couple of times a day, on a sticky note, your bathroom mirror, your phone lock screen, your journal, or tucked inside your planner.
Say them out loud.
Not perfectly. Not dramatically. Just honestly.
“I have a right to ask for what I want.”
“I have a right to say no.”
“I have a right to my own personal space and time.”
“I have a right to be treated with dignity and respect.”
Let the words become familiar in your mouth.
Journal prompts
- Which right gave me pause?
- Which right felt easy to claim?
- Which right did I immediately want to explain, justify, or soften?
- Where in my life am I saying “I’m sorry” when I really mean “Excuse me,” “I need,” “Please stop,” or “I have a right to be here”?
- What is one small, respectful, unapologetic sentence I could practice this week?
- What would change if I believed I did not have to earn my right to take up space?
- Where have I confused being kind with being quiet?
- Where might I practice being clear without being harsh?
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Back to the Sorrys
So, back to those concert sorrys.
Of course, apologies matter. A meaningful apology can be healing. It can repair harm, acknowledge impact, and restore connection.
But we do not need to apologize for needing a chair.
We do not need to apologize for moving through a crowd.
We do not need to apologize for saying we cannot see.
We do not need to apologize when someone steps on our foot.
We can be kind without shrinking.
We can be respectful without disappearing.
We can make a request without wrapping it in apology first.
Try:
“Excuse me, may I get through?”
“I need a chair, please.”
“I can’t see from here.”
“You’re on my foot.”
“No, that doesn’t work for me.”
“I need some space.”
These are not rude sentences.
They are clear sentences.
And clear is allowed.
One Final Reminder
You have many rights.
One of them is the right to be here.
Warmly,
Audrianna
