The Weight of a Woman’s Existence

Every woman has a story—of harassment, of fear, of survival. Sit down with any woman, ask her about safety, and she will have an experience to share. Not because she wants to, but because she has no choice. The stories are endless, a cycle of warnings passed down from one generation to the next.

Be cautious. Be alert. Don’t go out late. Don’t wear this. Don’t smile too much. Don’t be too friendly. Don’t attract attention. These aren’t just instructions; they are shackles, binding us to a life of constant fear. The world whispers, "You are a woman. How dare you exist freely?"

When something happens, the scrutiny is relentless. What was she wearing? Why was she there? She must have wanted it. A woman is dissected, blamed, shamed—her pain turned into a spectacle, her trauma dismissed as an invitation. Society takes our broken bodies and minds and uses them as cautionary tales instead of battle cries. We are told to survive, but never allowed to be angry. We are forced to be silent, but never allowed to forget.

Being lusted over instead of being loved—it corrodes the soul. It makes us feel repulsive, unworthy, ashamed of a body we did not ask to be objectified. It makes us want to crawl out of our own skin, to erase every moment of unwanted attention that made us feel dirty, stained, and less than human. It teaches us that no matter how loud we scream, our voices will be drowned by the sound of excuses, of justification for predators, of societal gaslighting that tells us we imagined it, that we should be grateful for the attention, that it is just how the world works.

And yet, after the fear, the assault, the pain—she rises. She gathers her strength, puts the shattered pieces of herself back together, and dares to live again. But society does not call her strong. It calls her characterless. Because in a world where a woman’s suffering is normalized, her resilience is punished. If she speaks, she is lying. If she fights, she is dramatic. If she survives, she is lucky. But never is she just human, never is she just a person deserving of dignity without conditions.

Are we truly living in an independent, democratic society? A place where a woman’s dignity is conditional? Where her safety is her own burden, but her violation is her fault? Where we teach girls how to shrink, but never teach boys to respect? Where our autonomy is stolen before we even understand what it means to have it? A society that forces women to live in fear, yet mocks them when they demand protection?

It is time to shatter this reality. To stop telling women to be careful and start telling men to be better. To speak, to fight, to demand change. To remind the world that a woman’s existence is not an invitation. That her strength is not shameful. That her freedom is non-negotiable. That the burden of safety should not be ours alone.

We have begged. We have reasoned. We have pleaded. Now, we are done. We are reclaiming everything they tried to take from us—our voices, our dignity, our freedom.

We will not walk with our heads bowed. We will not apologize for demanding respect. We will not accept survival as our only goal.

We are rising—not as victims, but as warriors. And this time, we are taking back everything.