Truth & Advocacy By Calvin-Lee Hardie – Inverness

Some rebuild with bulldozers. Others with silence. I rebuild with words — one line, one filing, one truth at a time.

There’s a loneliness to being misrepresented. It’s not the loneliness of physical isolation, but the kind that creeps into your bones when you know that people are looking at a version of you that never existed. They talk like they know you. They speculate, project, retweet. And all you can do is sit behind a screen and feel every piece of your identity be reassembled by strangers who never asked for the full story.

They say time heals everything. But time alone doesn’t fix damage. Time only gives you the distance to see who kept cutting, and who offered their hand.

That’s what this chapter is about for me — seeing clearly. Naming things. Naming people, even. Not from vengeance. From truth. Because if I don’t, who will?

I used to think that dignity came from being quiet — letting people assume the best. But I’ve learned that dignity sometimes looks like saying, “No. You don’t get to write my story without me.”

This isn’t about playing victim. It’s about owning the fact that I’ve been targeted. Misused. Slandered. And still — I haven’t disappeared. I haven’t crumbled into the identity they tried to impose. If anything, I’ve become sharper. Not colder, but clearer.

Clear enough to build.

Clear enough to protect.

Clear enough to pursue justice without apology.

I’ve filed complaints. Submitted evidence. Drafted responses. I’ve read through court rules and chased the threads of accountability that the system often tries to bury. I’ve fought through sleepless nights, online abuse, media distortion — not because I enjoy conflict, but because my name is mine. And it matters.

Some people have platforms. Others have lawyers. I had neither. Just persistence. Just the need to be heard. Just a fierce belief that truth, once spoken out loud and often enough, can override the noise.

And I still believe that.

Because every time they try to define me, I redefine myself — louder, longer, more deliberately.

I don’t need to convince anyone anymore. I’m not here for sympathy. I’m here for truth, restoration, and my future.

If you’ve ever been wrongly framed — by media, by people, by your past — let this be your sign: You are allowed to push back. You are allowed to begin again. You are allowed to speak.

Even if your voice shakes.

Even if no one listens at first.

Because silence doesn’t keep you safe. Truth does.

And this is mine.