When Wrong Has a Name

When I was eleven years old, I asked my father for a gift: the red Eveready torch. Not a doll, not sweets, not a toy—but a torch. I was a nerd at heart, and I wanted to read under the covers after lights out so I could keep up my high grades. My father, excited by my dedication, bought it for me. And it worked. I read late into the night, and my scores climbed.

One night, curious and restless, I pointed the beam out of the dorm window, expecting to be the only one awake. Instead, the light caught two adults in a corner—people I knew, people in authority, doing something they didn’t want witnessed. Shocked, I switched off the torch and closed the window.

The next day, our dorm was accused of making noise late at night. The teachers scolded us, though every girl insisted we had slept early. That’s when I understood: the punishment wasn’t about noise. It was about intimidation. Someone had been seen, and they needed to scare the witness into silence.

I never told anyone that story until now. But in recent months, I’ve been reminded of it. Because the tactics I saw that night—the intimidation, the false accusations, the overkill—aren’t limited to schools. They show up in families, friendships, and communities too.

Not long ago, I became the subject of false stories. Overnight, a smear campaign unfolded, painting me as someone I am not. The details were exaggerated and inconsistent, but that didn’t matter. Smear campaigns don’t rely on truth; they rely on believability.

It wasn’t about the story itself. It was about control. About cutting me off from connection, planting doubt in the minds of those around me, and punishing me for stepping out of line.

And I recognized the feeling immediately. Just like at eleven, I had seen too much, said too much, or stood too firmly—and the response was overkill. Not correction. Not conversation. Intimidation.

The Tactics of Manipulation

Over the years, I’ve learned that people don’t need physical weapons to control others. They use words, silence, stories, even kindness as tools. Once I began naming them, I started seeing the same tactics everywhere.

• Gaslighting

When someone rewrites history so convincingly that you question your own memory. For example: you recall a painful conversation word for word, but when you bring it up, they insist, “That never happened. You’re imagining things.” Over time, you start doubting your perception of reality.

• Scapegoating

When one person is blamed for everything, regardless of their actual role. In families, it can look like being punished for your sibling’s mistake or being labeled “the problem child” because everyone else’s issues get projected onto you. In workplaces, it can look like the team’s failure being pinned on one employee, even when decisions were out of their control.

• Silent Treatment

Withdrawing affection and communication as a form of punishment. Instead of addressing conflict, the manipulator freezes you out, sometimes for days or weeks. The silence feels louder than words—it’s meant to make you desperate to “make things right,” even if you didn’t cause the problem.

• Passive Aggression

When anger is disguised instead of expressed directly. A friend might say, “Wow, must be nice to have all that free time,” when they’re actually upset you didn’t make plans with them. Or a partner sighs heavily around the house instead of saying what’s wrong, forcing you to decode their moods like a puzzle.

• Favor Banking

When generosity comes with invisible strings. Someone may constantly offer help, but later they’ll say, “After everything I’ve done for you, you owe me.” The favor wasn’t kindness; it was an investment in future control.

• Flattery as Manipulation

Compliments can be beautiful, but when they feel overblown or excessive, they can be a trap. Imagine being told, “You’re the only one I can trust, you’re so much wiser than everyone else”—and then being asked to cover up someone’s mistake or carry their responsibility. The flattery was never about you; it was bait.

• Smear Campaigns

Spreading rumors, half-truths, or outright lies to damage your reputation. These stories are rarely checked for consistency because their power comes from shock, not accuracy. They isolate you by turning potential allies into silent doubters.

• Intimidation

Punishments that don’t fit the supposed offense, public shaming, or exaggerated accusations. The point isn’t fairness; it’s fear. The goal is to make you think, If speaking up costs this much, maybe silence is safer.

Why Naming Matters

For so long, I felt the heaviness of these dynamics without language. I knew when something was off, but I couldn’t explain it, so I blamed myself. That’s the real power of manipulation: it thrives in confusion. But once you can name it, the fog lifts. Smear campaign. Intimidation. Gaslighting. Parentification. These aren’t random feelings; they’re patterns with names. And once something has a name, you can see it clearly for what it is.

I don’t name these things to stay bitter. I name them to honor my reality. To remind myself that I wasn’t imagining it. To give language to the younger version of me who only had feelings but no definitions. Because once wrong has a name, it loses its hold. And once you see the pattern, you don’t go back to the dark.

My Work Now

This is why I write. Why I coach. Why I create wellness journals through Hai. Firstborn daughters, especially, grow up inside patterns that feel invisible. They are told to be responsible, strong, forgiving, loyal—and when those very qualities are exploited, they are told they are imagining it.

My work is about shining light in those places. Helping women name the wrongs that shaped them. Because naming is clarity, and clarity is the beginning of healing.

If you’re reading this and wondering whether you’re the problem, whether you’re imagining the heaviness you feel—I want you to know: you are not crazy, and you are not alone.

Take out a journal. Write down one pattern that haunts you. Then try to name it. You don’t have to fix everything at once. Just name it. Because once it has a name, it no longer owns you.

Lately, everything has a name. And with each name, I reclaim a piece of myself.