Children, Silence, and the Sound of Complaints - By Janika Verwey

Written By: Janika Verwey

Category: Essay

Competition: Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026

Janika Verwey presents a thoughtful exploration in her essay "Children, Silence, and the Sound of Complaints," submitted to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. This essay delves into the evolving dynamics of our shared environments, focusing on the shifting role of silence in communities and the pressures on younger generations to conform to quieter norms. Verwey’s work raises poignant questions about the balance between societal expectations and personal expression, making it a compelling read in today's rapidly changing world.

About the Work

In "Children, Silence, and the Sound of Complaints," Janika Verwey examines the profound transformation in how space is perceived and utilized by children and young adults. Through evocative imagery and a reflective tone, Verwey articulates the tension between external silence and internal noise. The essay captures the subtle conflict between the need for personal expression and the societal preference for quietude, urging readers to consider the deeper implications of suppressed voices in community spaces.

Children, Silence, and the Sound of Complaints - Janika Verwey

Original Submission by Janika Verwey

Children, Silence, and the Sound of Complaints - Janika Verwey

There was a time when silence in a neighborhood felt wrong. Not peaceful, not calm, but wrong. It carried an absence that was difficult to ignore, like a stage after the actors had left but the lights were still on. Silence meant something had ended too soon. It meant the day had been cut short, that the chaos and energy that defined childhood had been interrupted. Today, however, that same silence has become the default setting. It stretches across streets that once held life, settling into corners where laughter used to echo. And what makes it even more unsettling is not just that it exists, but that it is accepted.

The absence of children playing outside is often explained in simple terms: technology, safety, changing times. But these explanations, while valid, only scratch the surface. What is really happening is a slow redefinition of space, of behavior, and ultimately of what it means to exist in a shared environment. The outside world, once a place of freedom and unpredictability, has been reshaped into something more controlled, more observed, and far less forgiving of imperfection.

Children no longer claim the streets as their own because, in many ways, they no longer feel like they belong to them. The outside has become a space of rules rather than possibilities. There are expectations, boundaries, and an underlying sense that one must not disturb the fragile order that has been established. And so, children retreat. Not always consciously, not always willingly, but inevitably. They move into spaces where their presence is easier, quieter, more acceptable.

But this retreat does not end with childhood. It evolves. Teenagers and young adults inherit this same environment but experience it through a different lens. They are no longer seeking play, but release. They carry pressures that are less visible but far more complex. Identity, expectation, comparison, the constant awareness of being seen and judged. Their world is not just physical, but deeply internal, and often overwhelming.

For them, silence is not always peaceful. Silence can amplify thoughts, stretch emotions, and turn small worries into something much larger. Sitting still does not always mean being calm. Sometimes, it means being trapped with everything you are trying to avoid. And this is where movement becomes essential. Not optional, not recreational, but necessary.

A motorbike, in this context, becomes more than a machine. It becomes a form of escape that is both physical and emotional. It is movement with purpose, speed with intention. The moment the engine starts, something shifts. The noise that fills the air is not just sound, but a kind of barrier, separating the rider from the noise inside their own mind. It replaces internal chaos with something external, something tangible.

There is something almost paradoxical about it. The louder the engine, the quieter everything else becomes. Thoughts that once collided begin to space themselves out. Emotions that felt overwhelming lose some of their intensity. The road becomes a kind of temporary clarity, stretching forward without judgement, without expectation. It does not ask questions. It does not demand answers. It simply allows.

For some, riding becomes a language without words. Each acceleration, each turn, each moment of speed becomes a way of expressing something that cannot be easily explained. It is not about rebellion or attention. It is about release. About taking everything that feels too heavy and letting it dissolve into movement. The wind does not just pass by; it takes something with it. Fragments of stress, pieces of frustration, the weight of thoughts that have been building for too long.

And yet, from the outside, none of this exists. All that is visible is the disruption. The noise cuts through the carefully maintained quiet of a neighborhood, and that is where the focus remains. Complaints follow, not out of cruelty, but out of a deeply ingrained expectation that spaces should remain controlled and predictable. Noise is treated as an intrusion, something that breaks the illusion of order.

This is where the disconnect becomes most apparent. What is, for one person, a form of survival, becomes, for another, an inconvenience. The same sound that creates calm for the rider creates irritation for the listener. And in this clash of perspectives, there is very little effort to understand what lies beneath the surface.

Society often speaks about the importance of mental health, of finding healthy ways to cope, of “letting things out.” But when those expressions take forms that are visible, audible, or disruptive, they are quickly discouraged. There is an unspoken preference for quiet struggles, for emotions that are managed privately and do not interfere with others. But not all emotions can exist quietly. Not all minds can find peace in stillness.

This creates a subtle but powerful contradiction. Young people are encouraged to deal with their emotions, but only in ways that are acceptable, controlled, and, above all, silent. Anything beyond that becomes a problem. And so, the options narrow. Expression is limited. Movement is restricted. The very outlets that could provide relief are gradually removed.

Over time, this shapes behavior in ways that are not immediately visible. Children grow into teenagers who hesitate to take up space. Teenagers become young adults who internalize everything, who learn to keep their noise contained, their emotions hidden. The outside world, which should offer freedom, becomes another place where they feel they must be careful, measured, and quiet.

What is being lost here is not just outdoor play or recreational activity, but something far more fundamental: the right to exist fully in a shared space. To be loud sometimes. To move without constant judgement. To express, even imperfectly, what cannot always be put into words.

A motorbike, in this sense, becomes a metaphor for something larger. It represents the human need for release, for movement, for a kind of freedom that cannot be achieved through stillness. The road becomes more than a path; it becomes a temporary escape from the constraints of expectation. Each ride is not just a journey through space, but a journey away from pressure, from noise that exists internally rather than externally.

Of course, none of this removes the need for balance. Living in a community requires awareness, consideration, and respect. There are limits that need to exist, boundaries that cannot be ignored. But balance cannot be achieved if one side is constantly prioritized over the other. If quiet is always valued more than expression, if order is always chosen over freedom, then something essential begins to disappear.

Perhaps the real question is not whether children should play outside or whether teenagers should ride motorbikes. Perhaps the question is whether society is willing to tolerate the realities of being human. Because being human is not quiet. It is not always controlled. It is, at times, overwhelming, messy, and loud.

And maybe that noise, the laughter of children, the sound of engines, the echo of movement through still streets, is not something to be eliminated. Maybe it is something to be understood. Because beneath it lies something far more important than convenience. It is the sound of people trying to feel something, release something, or simply exist in a way that makes sense to them.

One day, when the silence becomes complete, when there are no interruptions, no disturbances, no reminders of life happening just outside, that silence will no longer feel peaceful. It will feel empty. And by then, the noise that was once so easily dismissed will be understood for what it truly was.

Not a disruption.

But a form of survival.

About the Competition

The Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026 by Hashtag Kalakar is a prestigious platform celebrating diverse voices from around the world. This competition provides writers with an opportunity to showcase their creativity and engage with a global audience. Participants are invited to contribute their unique perspectives, enriching the literary landscape with compelling narratives and thought-provoking themes.

We extend our gratitude to Janika Verwey for her insightful contribution, "Children, Silence, and the Sound of Complaints," to the Global Poetry and Creative Writing Competition 2026. Her essay challenges us to reflect on the societal norms that shape our interactions with shared spaces and invites a deeper understanding of the need for expression. Thank you, Janika, for your thought-provoking work.

About Hashtag Kalakar

Hashtag Kalakar is a creative platform dedicated to providing artists, writers, singers and other creative talents with opportunities to showcase their work and reach wider audiences through competitions, features and creative initiatives.