The Dhaka Herald proudly presents the debut 'Through Her Silence', an incisive new column by internationally recognized global health diplomacy expert, author, and poet Qudsia Huda Deepa. ​Grounded in an enduring commitment to human rights and gender equity, Qudsia confronts an unspoken global reality: the invisible, unheralded weight borne by women across cultures. Interweaving intimate memory with sharp geopolitical insight, she lays bare the friction between the promise of equality and its lived reality. ​Here, silence is reimagined—not as passive submission, but as both armor and catalyst. From the nuances of personal fulfillment to the non-negotiable right to lead and move without limits, Through Her Silence delivers masterfully crafted commentary on dignity, autonomy, and structural transformation.

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It has been many years since I watched an episode of The Oprah Winfrey Show in which a panel of accomplished women discussed the challenges they had faced throughout their lives. Time may have blurred some of the details, yet one moment from that conversation has remained vivid in my memory. If I have misremembered anything, I owe Madam Oprah an apology.

The women on the panel were remarkable: a doctor, a researcher, a scholar, an engineer, a pilot, and among them, a former Miss America. They were all in their fifties or beyond, and each carried herself with intelligence, grace, and confidence. Their presence was the kind that leaves a lasting imprint on a young girl's mind. It certainly did on mine. One thing stood out immediately that all of them had short hair.

At one point, Oprah asked a seemingly simple question: Did they think having short hair diminished a woman's femininity? Their responses varied, but the underlying message was the same. Hair had little to do with who they were or what they had achieved. It was practical. It was easier to manage.

Then the former Miss America spoke. Gently running her fingers through her cropped hair, she smiled and said something that has echoed in my mind ever since. I may not remember her exact words, but I remember their essence - "By the time a woman reaches this stage of life, femininity is no longer the concern. Survival with dignity is."

That statement struck me deeply as a young girl. Decades later, I understand its gravity far better.

Springing in her steps is rarely an easy one. Every step forward is often buoyed by oceans of unseen tears. The world celebrates her accomplishments but seldom notices the emotional cost of achieving them.

It is in the moment when she turns away so no one sees her cry. It is in the moment when she pretends to look for something that was never lost, simply to gain a few seconds to compose herself. It is in the distant gaze that stretches beyond the room while everyone assumes she is merely distracted. These are the moments when many women hide their pain, their fears, and sometimes even parts of themselves. More often than we realise, they are also the moments when a woman feels compelled to protect everyone else's feelings while carrying her own burdens in silence. Yet they are also the moments when she gathers herself and stands taller.

Still, she cries.

Not the kind of crying that leaves wet cheeks or smudged mascara. It is the silent cry of the daughter carrying burdens no one notices. It is the cry of a woman who smiles through meetings while battling anxiety in environments that are not always welcoming. It is the cry of a mother reassuring everyone else while quietly falling apart inside. It is the cry of a woman balancing countless responsibilities yet still feeling she has not done enough.

Behind the image of the successful professional, devoted mother, supportive partner, or dependable friend are often silent battles with anxiety, depression, loneliness, burnout, trauma, and emotional exhaustion. The tragedy is not simply that these struggles exist. The tragedy is that they are frequently dismissed as part of being a woman, or worse, labelled as drama.

These experiences are not isolated anecdotes. They are reflected in global data. According to global statistics, depression affects approximately 6.9% of women compared with 4.6% of men, making women about one and a half times more likely to experience depression. More than 10% of pregnant women and new mothers worldwide experience depression. Women are also significantly more vulnerable to anxiety disorders due to a complex mix of biological, psychological, social, and economic factors. Furthermore, women perform approximately 76% of unpaid care work globally, a burden increasingly linked to chronic stress, emotional exhaustion, and poor mental health outcomes.

Statistics tell us what is happening. They do not always tell us how it feels.

Behind every percentage is a woman trying to hold herself together while meeting expectations that seem endless. Every data point represents a life, a family, a story, and often a silent struggle.

Women are celebrated for their strength. They are praised for their resilience, admired for their ability to keep going when life becomes difficult. But somewhere along the way, society confused endurance with well-being. We have become so accustomed to seeing women carry heavy burdens that we rarely stop to ask whether those burdens have become too much.

Consider the working mother. Her day often begins before everyone else's and ends after everyone has gone to bed. Between work deadlines, family responsibilities, and household demands, she spends much of her time caring for others while neglecting herself. While every woman's circumstances are different, this reality is familiar to millions around the world. To the outside world, she appears to have everything under control. In reality, she may be running on empty.

There is an old saying about being "at the end of one's rope." Many women find themselves there not because they are weak, but because they have been strong for far too long without adequate support. Over time, these pressures can lead women to blame themselves for struggles that often have deep social and structural roots.

Mental health challenges among women are deeply intertwined with everyday realities. Women often remain the emotional anchors of families. They provide comfort, manage relationships, remember important details, organise routines, and help hold family life together. Much of this labour goes unseen, yet its emotional weight can be immense.

Young women today face another challenge: comparison. Social media has transformed comparison into a daily habit. Every scroll presents carefully curated images of success, beauty, happiness, and achievement. As Theodore Roosevelt famously observed, "Comparison is the thief of joy." It steals confidence gradually, replacing self-worth with self-doubt impacting the mental health of younger generation.

The situation becomes even more complex when discrimination, harassment, abuse, or violence enter the equation. Emotional wounds often outlast physical ones. Workplace bias, unequal opportunities, and social expectations can slowly erode confidence, reminding women time and again that they must work harder to be seen as equally capable.

Life transitions bring their own challenges. Adolescence, motherhood, infertility, caregiving, menopause, and ageing can all place immense strain on mental well-being. Postpartum depression is one example that deserves far greater attention. A woman can be surrounded by gifts, congratulations, and visitors, yet still feel profoundly lonely.

The consequences extend beyond individuals. When a woman's mental health suffers, families feel it. Workplaces feel it. Communities feel it.

So where do we go from here?

The answer belongs to all of us.

Governments, workplaces, educational institutions, families, and communities must recognise that women's mental health is not an afterthought. Measures and policies that prevent chronic stress, inequality, discrimination, and burnout are just as important as treatment itself.

Mental health support must be accessible, affordable, and free from stigma. Asking for help should be viewed as courage, not failure. Support does not always require grand gestures. Often, it begins with simple acts of humanity. Listen without interrupting. Notice when the woman who checks on everyone else suddenly becomes quiet. Ask, "How are you really doing?" and be prepared to hear the answer. At home, sharing responsibilities is not assistance; it is partnership. At work, creating psychologically safe environments, respecting boundaries, and recognising contributions can make a significant difference.

Women, too, must extend grace to one another. Too often, the weight of societal expectations is unknowingly passed from one woman to another. There is immense power in women supporting women, celebrating one another, and creating communities where vulnerability is not mistaken for weakness.

Girls should grow up knowing that their worth is not measured by how much they sacrifice, how much they endure, or how perfectly they perform. Caring for their mental health is not selfish. It is essential.

Perhaps the greatest change required is cultural. We must stop glorifying silent suffering as a badge of honour. Women should not have to break before receiving support. Strength is not carrying every burden alone. Strength is knowing when to ask for help. Strength is allowing others to share the load.

The tears that are never seen are real. They fall behind closed doors, during sleepless nights, on silent commutes, and in hearts that have carried too much for too long. It is time we look beyond the smiles, listen beyond the silence, and recognise what many women have been trying to tell us all along. Sometimes the strongest woman in the room is the one crying where no one can see.

Women's mental health is not a private issue hidden behind closed doors. It is shaped by social expectations, caregiving responsibilities, workplace pressures, inequality, trauma, and stigma. By listening without judgment, expanding access to support, and normalising conversations about mental well-being, we can ensure that fewer women carry their struggles alone and more women thrive with dignity, health, and hope.

And this message is not only for the misters; it is equally for the madams. Far too often, women themselves overlook, dismiss, or judge the struggles of other women. If we truly wish to break the silence, empathy must begin there too.

Yes, I am talking to each of you.