Justice for Cwecwe

 As a woman, it’s incredibly difficult to forget reality—to forget that this is the world we live in.

As a mother with a daughter, it becomes frightening in a way I can’t explain because I’ve already had grown men have the audacity to say I’ve birthed a wife just for them. Or a daughter-in-law. Weird things, you know? My most recent encounter that raised my hackles was with a man so taken with my daughter, asking about her in general. Now, this happens quite often when people see babies, but if you’ve had the misfortune of being a predator’s prey, then you know what I’m talking about when I say you can see it in their demeanor—that you are in the presence of a deplorable creature.

I was around Cwecwe’s age when what happened to me for the first time happened. And unfortunately, that poor baby is going to have to live with what happened to her for the rest of her life. I always find it funny how women are admonished for wishing men didn’t exist, and how the immediate response is, “Who would protect y’all?” Protect us from who? From what? There’s only one apex predator here, and I don’t say it to boost the egos of incels.

I’ve seen comments floating around about how a 7-year-old deserved what happened to her, and that was the cleanest comment amongst the vile things men—yes, the ones who swear they protect us—have been saying about a literal child. Men feel so comfortable being predators in the open because they know nothing is really going to happen to them. In some ways, they are above the law.

We are tired. No one is safe from men. Not even men themselves. Rape culture has been so normalized that every day we hear about a new victim of any age. Sometimes the victims aren’t even human.

The worst part is that the world keeps moving. A child is brutalized, and before the blood has even dried, the conversations shift. People mourn for a moment, shake their heads, maybe even pretend to care. But there is always something else waiting to take center stage—some scandal, some distraction—while another predator walks free, another girl is silenced, another family is left to pick up the shattered pieces of a life stolen too soon.

Then there are those who have the audacity to complain that they’re tired of hearing about rape. As if it’s an inconvenience to them to have to acknowledge the daily horrors (mostly) women and children endure. As if these stories are just noise rather than proof of a system that has failed us time and time again. If there were a reliable justice system, if people truly respected autonomy, if women and children were valued beyond what they can offer men, we wouldn’t be in this situation. But here we are. Again. And again. And again.

Rape culture doesn’t just exist in the shadows—it thrives in broad daylight, protected by institutions that were never built to serve victims.

This is what we know: The legal system is unreliable at best, complicit at worst. Survivors are dismissed, doubted, and forced to relive their trauma while their abusers walk free due to loopholes, lack of evidence, or outright corruption. Communities protect predators. Whether it’s a family sweeping abuse under the rug, a religious institution shielding rapists, or social circles prioritizing a man’s reputation over a woman’s safety, society has made it clear who they truly stand by. There is no real deterrent. Rapists know they are more likely to be protected than punished. The threat of “justice” is an illusion—so they continue.

Hai. 

For survivors, the trauma doesn’t end when the assault does. It lingers, shaping their lives in ways most people will never understand. Mental and emotional wounds last a lifetime. PTSD, anxiety, depression, self-blame—these are just SOME of the burdens survivors carry. The stigma of speaking out is unbearable. People ask why she didn’t report it, why she was there, what she was wearing—anything to make it her fault. Some never escape the cycle. Many survivors are assaulted multiple times, often because their trauma makes them more vulnerable to further exploitation. Take it from me. 

Now men…

The same men who swear they would die for the women in their lives are the first to go silent when the conversation turns to accountability. Where are they when we demand justice? Where are they when their friends make rape jokes Where are they when women beg to be believed? Men who truly care should be leading these conversations, not deflecting with “not all men” nonsense. Silence is complicity. If you are not actively working to dismantle rape culture, you are part of the problem. 

To be frank: o weird. You’re weird. 

The fact that I’m sitting here speaking on how victims should protect themselves is making me angry. If we lived in world with a reliable justice system, the focus wouldn’t be on how anyone should protect themselves. The conversations about how no one is safe, not at school, not at work, not at home wouldn’t exist. It’s so sickening. 

The conversation about rape culture cannot begin and end with shock when a particularly gruesome case makes the news. It has to be ongoing, relentless, because the danger never stops. The predators are always watching, always waiting, shielded by a society that has decided the burden of caution falls on the prey instead of the hunter. 

Enough is enough. The only way forward is systemic change, relentless advocacy, and unwavering support for survivors. We need harsher punishments for rapists and predators. We do. We also need communities to stand with victims, not predators. If someone you know is a danger to others, call them out. Stop protecting rapists. We need better education. Teach children about bodily autonomy, teach boys that entitlement to women’s bodies is not their birthright, and teach girls that their safety is not a privilege—it’s a right. 

I’m too angry to properly conclude my thoughts. This is the conclusion I fear.