Where Fear Shouldn’t Reside

There is something strange about growing up as a girl and learning safety before freedom.

We learn to share our location, call when we reach home, avoid certain roads, keep our phones charged and be careful about who we trust. We learn all these things so early that sometimes we don't even question them anymore. We just accept them as part of growing up.

But shouldn't we question them?

Why is it always us who are told to be careful? Why don't we talk enough about making the world safer in the first place?

Every few days, there is another headline. Another case. Another name. Another family whose life has been changed forever. And for a moment, we are angry. We post. We talk. We say this shouldn't happen.

Then another headline comes along.

And somehow, we move on.

Maybe that's what scares me the most. Not just the violence itself, but how easily fear can become ordinary.

We start memorising which streets to avoid. We start looking over our shoulders. We start sending reached home texts before anyone even asks. We call it being careful, but sometimes I wonder if we're just learning how to live around fear.

And I don't think we should have to.

A girl shouldn't have to know which route is safest before she knows what route she wants to take. A child shouldn't have to be taught how to protect herself from the people who are supposed to protect her. Coming home shouldn't feel like something you successfully accomplish.

And no, I'm not saying precautions don't matter. Of course they do.

But precautions cannot be the entire solution.

Because telling someone to carry their keys differently doesn't fix an unsafe street. Telling someone not to travel alone doesn't fix an unsafe transport system. Telling girls to dress, speak or behave differently doesn't stop someone else from choosing to hurt them.

At some point, we have to stop asking, How can we make people less vulnerable?

And start asking, How can we make the world less dangerous?

That means taking complaints seriously. It means safer public spaces, functioning lights, proper surveillance and responsible authorities. It means teaching children about boundaries and consent. It means creating a culture where speaking up isn't met with doubt, blame or silence.

Most of all, it means refusing to become numb.

Because fear has a purpose. It can warn us when something feels wrong.

But fear shouldn't live in a girl's walk home.

It shouldn't sit beside her on the bus. It shouldn't follow her through a park. It shouldn't make her call someone and say, I'm almost home, when what she really wants to say is, I'm just going home.

I don't want a world where girls become experts at staying safe.

I want a world where they don't have to be.

Because fear belongs nowhere near the ordinary act of coming home.