From Introvert to Extrovert: My Journey from Shy and Quiet to Confident and Outspoken

For most of my childhood, silence was my companion, and I believed it would be my fate. While some children suffer the brunt of “Do not speak unless you are spoken to”, I, on the other hand, could not speak unless I was spoken to. Those who met me back in my secondary school days knew me to be a shy, introverted, and smart. But by the time I got to grad school I had become significantly extroverted. Let me take you on that journey.

Growing Up Quiet

From the age of 7, I lived with my grandmother in our small village in the Northwest province of Cameroon. At my granny’s I was often surrounded by grey haired people. What they talked about made very little sense to me and felt eons into the past. So, naturally — I simply listened, observed and withdrew into myself. I didn’t see anything wrong with how I was.

But at school, I started to feel odd. I noticed the difference between myself and other kids. They spoke freely, sometimes too much. I envied how easily they chatted with each other, and with the teachers. Meanwhile, I avoided attention so much that I’d hold my urine until break time because I was too afraid to ask permission to use the bathroom.

To make matters worse, my quietness got an additional sponsor — fear of the English language and extreme shyness around girls. In my fourth year of primary school, our teacher required us to speak only English in the classroom and enforced a new sitting order; one boy between two girls or one girl between two boys per desk. I won the unfortunate ballot to sit between two girls that I didn’t even like. And life being fair, the girls didn’t like me too.

Class became a mini prison for me. I went from quiet to mute and made myself invisible and small to reduce the discomfort of forced proximity with these girls. When the girls wanted to make me more uncomfortable, they simply sat closer, or when they were really mean, they would refuse to give way for me to get out when I wanted to. It has never crossed my mind until now, but damn, those girls were my bullies.

Secondary School Struggles

By secondary school, I was still shy, quiet, and kept to myself, but one thing was significantly different. I discovered that I could be smart by simply reading and remembering stuff. So, I became the best student in class. While in primary school part of my quietness was championed by not knowing what to say and not being able to read well, now I was quiet because…. well, that’s just how I was. Why waste time struggling to make conversation when you could waste it thinking about chatting away flawlessly about more interesting things. It was how my brain worked — quietly listening, observing, reading and imagining an alternate reality.

When questions were asked in class, I often had the answers. When discussions were going on in class, I had something to say. And yes, I was participating all the time but only in my head. I only ever spoke when called on directly, and even then, my heart raced and danced samba in my chest, and my voice trembled.

The Day That Changed Everything

One day at the onset of my second year in secondary school, my worst fear materialized. I was nominated for class prefect. I remember my name being called and the nauseated feeling that followed. I hoped and honestly believed that not many people would vote for me. And boy was I wrong.

As was the practice, those nominated will leave the room and go outside and the rest of the class would vote. So, I and two other guys left the room. When we returned, I was heartbroken. There on the black board, I had the highest votes. I can’t in words express the level of my devastation but here’s a picture of how the rest of that day went. In no time, all I saw were stars. Then my head was spinning, people turned into pale tall ghost with screeching voices. I broke down into inconsolable sobbing for hours until the vice principal came back and said don’t worry you will not be the class prefect. Talk about crying until something happened? Yes, that was me.

That day, I walked home with mixed feelings: shame for my tears, but relief that I wouldn’t have to speak up in front of my classmates nor conduct attendance nor maintain order in the classroom, nor write down names of noise makers. I didn’t want to be that guy. I was a nice guy, a people pleaser. From that day, I convinced myself that leadership, and especially speaking in front of people, wasn’t for me. I continued to keep to myself, focused on my studies, buried myself in books, and I slept a lot in class whenever no lessons were happening.

The Turning Point: An obsession with Knowledge

Books were my escape from the need and discomfort of socializing. I read because I liked to know stuff but also because if I wasn’t reading what else would I be doing, chatting? About what? And what excuse would I give so that I could be left alone. Just the way I would sit over a book, you knew not to engage me with chitchat. It wasn’t that I didn’t like to talk but I felt like I didn’t have anything to talk about. Also, I didn’t find what others were talking about that interesting, or I was uncomfortable with their topics.

So, I just read. I wasn’t just reading for school; I read about things far removed from our little town of Kumbo — airplanes, natural disasters like tsunamis and earthquakes, physics, psychology, the English language — I devoured everything. These weren’t just random topics to me — they were worlds I could get lost in. I studied the English language down to phonetic transcriptions. And I did not just read and forget. If it fascinated me, I read it and I remembered it.

Then, something unexpected started to happen. When I spoke about my fascinations, the things that I liked, my insecurities faded into the background and people listened. Teachers increasingly called me out to participate in class, and for the first time, I noticed that I knew a lot of things and enjoyed sharing what I knew. These things happened so gradually throughout my secondary education that I never really felt any change was taking place. Was I still introverted? Yes, but if you poked me with the right subject, the flood gates could open.

Becoming an “Inovert”

The key to finding my voice was simple: knowledge and passion. The more I learned about what fascinated me, the more confident I became. The fear of speaking up would disappear when I was really excited about a subject. I wasn’t trying to become an extrovert. I loved my introversion and introspections. But I had always wanted to be freely about whatever I wanted whenever I wanted.

I stopped trying to fit into conversations that didn’t interest me and focused on what did and I found my kind of people doing that.

Today, I embrace both worlds. I enjoy the high-energy environments where I can share my interests, but I still crave solitude where I can recharge and reflect. I’ve come to understand that I neither fit neatly as an introvert nor an extrovert. I’m something in between — an “inovert,” someone who speaks from the inside out, when the subject is right.

The Message to Other Introverts

To all the introverts out there, know this: You don’t have to change who you are to find your voice. The world doesn’t need more people to be louder; it needs you to be deeper. You don’t need to force yourself into the mold of an extrovert, trying to be the life of every room. Instead, dive into your passions. The more you learn and explore what truly fascinates you, the more naturally your voice will emerge.

Your soul was fashioned for depth. You don’t like the loud splashing in the shallow waters of conversation where others find fun. You prefer the solitude and stealth of the deep waters like a submarine — dive.

When you speak from a place of passion, the right people will listen. They won’t just hear your words — they’ll feel your enthusiasm, your depth, your sincerity. You won’t need to seek validation from everyone because the ones who resonate with your message will find you. And when you find those people — your tribe — you’ll feel a connection that runs deeper and truer.

Learn and share what moves you. Your quiet perspective is your gift to the world. And when you speak from that place of genuine passion, the fear will fade, and the world will make space for your voice.

If you know enough about a subject that fascinates you, speaking up becomes less terrifying. You’re so invested in the topic that your insecurities fade to the background.