The power of women in the politics is a soft power. It is a

Host: The afternoon sun fell in long golden streaks across the parliament square, where flags swayed lazily in the breeze and the statues of old men in bronze looked down at a city that was changing — slowly, quietly, but undeniably. The air was alive with the low murmur of traffic, the shuffle of protestors folding up banners, and the faint echo of a speech that had just ended.

Inside a small café across the street, the world seemed to exhale. The windows rattled every time a bus passed, and the smell of espresso and fresh ink — from the newspapers stacked by the counter — filled the room.

Jack and Jeeny sat in a corner booth, both still wearing the blue press passes that hung from their necks. They’d just come from covering a political conference — the kind that usually left Jack cynical and Jeeny contemplative.

On Jeeny’s notebook, the last quote from the keynote speaker was circled in red:
“The power of women in politics is a soft power. It is a positive change that our country and other countries in the region are making by giving a chance to women.” — Atifete Jahjaga.

Jeeny: “You know, I think this is what progress actually sounds like — not shouting, not breaking, but shifting.”

Jack: half-smiling “Soft power, huh? You mean influence disguised as empathy.”

Jeeny: “No, I mean strength that doesn’t have to scream to be heard.”

Host: The sunlight hit her face just then — warm, confident, unwavering — and for a moment, Jack couldn’t tell if she was describing politics or herself. He leaned back, stirring his coffee absently, his eyes shadowed but curious.

Jack: “I’ve never really bought into that phrase — soft power. Sounds like a polite way to say less power.”

Jeeny: “That’s because you still think power only counts when it dominates. Soft power isn’t about conquering — it’s about connecting. About changing the game without destroying the board.”

Jack: “Sounds idealistic.”

Jeeny: “So does democracy. Yet here we are.”

Host: Her voice was calm, but it carried an undercurrent — a kind of quiet conviction that couldn’t be faked. She leaned forward slightly, her hands resting on the table, her eyes alive with light.

Jeeny: “You saw them up there, Jack — the women speaking today. They didn’t just argue policy; they changed the tone of the whole room. It wasn’t about winning. It was about understanding.”

Jack: “And that’s enough to fix corruption, greed, ego?”

Jeeny: “Maybe not fix — but it humanizes the process. Politics has been too masculine for too long — all chest-beating and blood sport. Women bring another kind of courage: one that listens, negotiates, reconciles. That’s not weakness. That’s evolution.”

Jack: grinning faintly “You sound like a campaign slogan.”

Jeeny: “I sound like someone who believes cooperation isn’t a luxury.”

Host: The waiter passed by, setting down two glasses of water. The condensation beaded and ran in tiny rivulets, the way time runs — slowly, invisibly, toward change.

Outside, a small group of women were taking photos on the parliament steps, laughing, their voices lifting above the traffic.

Jack: “You know, I used to cover politics like a battlefield. Quotes, debates, power plays. Today felt… different. Calmer, almost like something was healing instead of breaking.”

Jeeny: “That’s what soft power does. It doesn’t conquer; it convinces.”

Jack: “And yet, most of the world still thinks power means control.”

Jeeny: “That’s because we’ve been taught to fear empathy. We mistake it for surrender.”

Jack: “You think women can fix that?”

Jeeny: “Not fix. Reframe. When power learns to listen, it stops being tyranny and starts being leadership.”

Host: Her words landed with quiet authority, threading through the hum of the café like a melody that everyone could hear but few could name. Jack looked out the window, watching one of the young women outside straighten her mother’s scarf before taking another photo — a small, ordinary act that somehow looked like revolution in miniature.

Jack: “You know, I used to think equality meant sameness — that women in politics had to act like men to succeed. But today, I noticed something. They weren’t mimicking anyone. They were rewriting the entire rhythm.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. Equality isn’t imitation; it’s integration. It’s both sides of the heartbeat working together.”

Jack: “So that’s soft power?”

Jeeny: “It’s balance — compassion and conviction in the same breath.”

Host: The light shifted across the room, illuminating the worn edges of the wooden tables and the faces of people talking, reading, laughing. The entire café felt like a microcosm of what she was describing — voices overlapping, disagreeing, and somehow coexisting in harmony.

Jeeny: “Do you remember what Jahjaga said after that line?”

Jack: “Something about nations being stronger when every voice is heard?”

Jeeny: “Yes. Because power isn’t meant to be concentrated. It’s meant to circulate — like oxygen. When women step into politics, they don’t just take space; they create it.”

Jack: “But what happens when soft power meets the hard wall of realpolitik? When compassion runs up against ambition?”

Jeeny: “Then you do what women have always done — you endure, adapt, and outlast. That’s soft power’s secret weapon: persistence disguised as patience.”

Host: Jack looked at her — really looked — and saw the quiet fire in her eyes, the kind of conviction that doesn’t announce itself but endures like an ember. He smiled, almost involuntarily.

Jack: “You know, I’ve spent half my career interviewing men who speak louder the less they know. But today, when those women took the stage, it wasn’t volume that filled the room. It was presence. And maybe that’s the difference.”

Jeeny: “Presence is power. Always has been.”

Jack: “Then why did it take us this long to notice?”

Jeeny: “Because history only hears those who shout. It takes time to learn how to listen to the ones who don’t.”

Host: Outside, a gust of wind caught the flags, unfurling them in perfect synchrony. The sound was soft — fabric against air — but it carried further than the noise of engines or slogans.

The world, for a moment, seemed to pause.

Jeeny: “You know, soft power doesn’t mean being quiet. It means knowing when to speak so your words carry weight, not volume.”

Jack: “And you think that’s what women bring to politics?”

Jeeny: “I think it’s what humanity brings through women — the reminder that leadership isn’t about domination. It’s about direction. About nurturing vision instead of enforcing it.”

Jack: “And men can’t do that?”

Jeeny: “They can. But they forget. And women are here to help them remember.”

Host: The sun slipped lower now, bathing the café in amber light. The sound of conversation grew around them — voices rising, clinking glasses, laughter. The air itself felt changed, more alive, as if the city outside had exhaled centuries of silence and breathed in something new.

Jack: “You know, if you’d said all this on air today, you’d have gone viral.”

Jeeny: “Maybe. But soft power isn’t about going viral, Jack. It’s about going vital.”

Jack: smiling faintly “Vital?”

Jeeny: “Yes — necessary. The kind of change that doesn’t fade with the news cycle because it starts in the heart, not the headlines.”

Host: Her words hung in the air, luminous and slow, the kind of truth that doesn’t need applause to feel complete. Jack nodded, quietly, his skepticism melting into thought.

He looked once more through the café window at the parliament building — its sharp angles glowing gold in the dusk — and then back at her.

Jack: “You know, maybe Jahjaga was right. Maybe soft power isn’t softness at all. Maybe it’s steel in velvet.”

Jeeny: “Exactly. And maybe that’s the future — not louder politics, just wiser ones.”

Host: The camera would pull back then — through the window, across the square, past the fluttering flags — capturing a city where both men and women walked side by side beneath the same fading sun.

And as the light dimmed, Atifete Jahjaga’s words would glow softly on the screen, like the embers of a revolution built not on noise, but on grace:

“The power of women in politics is a soft power — a positive change our world is making by giving a chance to women.”

Because sometimes the quietest voices
rewrite the loudest histories.