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When You Find the Courage to Speak Up

Recently, someone I know did something incredibly brave—she spoke out about the abuse she endured in a relationship with the father of her child. She shared her story publicly because, after exhausting all the “right” channels, after reaching out to the relevant authorities and receiving no help, speaking out online became her last resort.


It shouldn’t have to come to that. But it often does.


And the moment you take that risk, the vultures appear. Suddenly everyone has an opinion—about how you should have handled it, what you should have done differently, why you waited, why you didn’t wait longer. The same society that turns its back when you cry for help is the first to tear you apart when you help yourself.


It’s maddening. Because the truth is—society is never satisfied. If you stay silent, you’re blamed for not speaking up. If you speak up, you’re accused of lying, attention-seeking, or exaggerating. You’re mocked. You’re dissected. You’re humiliated.


And for what? For trying to survive?


I saw some of the comments on her post—comments from men and women alike—and honestly, it was sickening. People laughing. People saying things like “some women enjoy abuse.” People making jokes. Intimate partner violence has become so normal, so routine, that it no longer sparks outrage—it sparks memes.


I wrote about justice for Cwecwe once but I couldn’t post it. This feels like the same wound—just a different name, a different woman, a different tragedy. And every time this happens, I come back to the same bitter truth: we don’t know how to treat victims. Or maybe we do—and we just don’t care.


All of this has been sitting heavy on my heart.

It’s personal. It’s triggering. There was a point where I stopped writing because what’s the point if the world keeps turning a blind eye?


But the silence was choking me. This post isn’t here to inspire you. It’s here to remind you that this is the reality we’re in. Women speak, and the world laughs. Women cry, and the world asks why they were there in the first place. Women die, and the world forgets.


When will it be enough?

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