People think that when they come up to me, screaming things into

The words of Floor Jansen resound with the dignity of one who has walked through the noise of the crowd and discovered the deeper truth of selfhood: “People think that when they come up to me, screaming things into my ear, that I will respond according to what they want. I'll turn around and smile and take the photo. But I'm not somebody's marionette.” In this declaration lies the wisdom of boundaries, the courage of identity, and the refusal to be reduced to a puppet for the desires of others. It is a voice that says: I am human before I am image, I am soul before I am spectacle.

To be called a marionette is to be likened to a puppet, moved not by its own will but by the strings of another’s hand. Many in positions of fame, power, or even daily obligation find themselves treated this way—expected to smile on command, to act not as they are, but as others demand them to be. Yet Jansen’s words cut through this falsehood. She acknowledges the courtesy of kindness, the generosity of offering a smile, but draws the line against surrendering her humanity. For the essence of dignity is this: to give freely, not to be manipulated.

This truth has echoed throughout history. Consider the story of Rosa Parks, who one December evening in 1955 refused to stand and yield her seat when commanded. To many, it was a small act of defiance; to her, it was the refusal to live as a marionette pulled by the strings of injustice. Her simple “no” changed the course of a nation. Like Floor Jansen, she understood that while society may demand compliance, the soul must answer only to the truth of its own dignity. To surrender that is to surrender one’s very humanity.

Jansen also reminds us that to smile on command, without sincerity, is to wear a mask that erodes the spirit. A smile should be the fruit of joy, not the product of compulsion. When others demand constant cheer from those they admire, they forget that even the admired carry sorrows, burdens, and limits. The refusal to become a puppet is not cruelty—it is honesty. And honesty, though sometimes uncomfortable, is a far greater gift than empty compliance.

Her words also carry a warning for all: beware of how you treat others, even those you revere. It is easy to forget the humanity of those placed upon a pedestal, to see them only as performers, icons, or figures who exist to satisfy our desires. But every soul, whether clothed in fame or obscurity, is sacred. To treat another as a marionette is to strip them of dignity; to honor their humanity is to respect the divine spark within them.

The lesson we must carry is this: guard your dignity as you would guard your life. Do not let the hands of others control your strings. Offer kindness, yes—smile when it is true, give when it is free—but never surrender your will to the whims of others. True greatness lies not in pleasing every voice that shouts at you, but in standing firm in who you are. In this firmness is freedom, and in this freedom is strength.

Practically, this means setting boundaries in your own life. Do not fear to say no when others seek to control you. Do not cheapen your smile by giving it away to every demand. Instead, let your joy, your laughter, your generosity flow from authenticity. And when you give, let it be real, so that your gift carries weight and your presence leaves truth behind. For you are not a puppet—you are a soul, alive with its own fire, meant to move not by the strings of others but by the rhythm of your own heart.

Thus, remember the teaching of Floor Jansen: you are not somebody’s marionette. You are not bound to dance to another’s command, nor to smile when your spirit does not consent. Walk through life with dignity, with authenticity, with courage. Smile, yes—but smile because it is yours to give, not because it is torn from you. And in doing so, you will inspire others to cut the strings that bind them and to live as they were always meant to—free, whole, and unbroken.