✊🏾 First, We Fight for Our Safety.

Then, We Fight for Our Story.
(And We Are Tired.)

She survived.
That should be enough.
But it never is.

Because first, women have to fight for our safety.
And then—if we’re lucky enough to survive that—
We have to fight for our story.

We have to convince people that we weren’t overreacting.
That we weren’t being too sensitive.
That the danger was real.
That the predator was real.
That the harm happened.

We have to put our trauma into perfectly polished language,
beg for compassion,
and still be prepared to be doubted, dismissed, or degraded.

Let’s talk about the woman who was attacked by a known, convicted pedophile.

She was right to be afraid.
She was right to speak up.
She was right to want to be safe.
She was right to expect protection.

But now she’s in the second war:
The battle for her story.
The courtroom war. The public opinion war. The “what did she do wrong?” war.

And I’m here to say: we are tired.

This isn’t just about one woman.

This is what it’s like to be a woman in a world that treats our survival like an inconvenience.
This is what it’s like to be Black and experience danger—only to be questioned, not protected.
This is what it’s like to be a child who tells the truth and gets called a liar.
This is what it’s like to be a Survivor who escapes, only to be told, “Are you sure that’s what really happened?”

We fight to survive violence.
We fight to speak the truth.
And then we fight to have people believe us.

How much more do we have to carry?

We need more than thoughts and prayers.

We need more than excuses.
We need leaders and politicians who are on the side of the people—not predators.

We need those in power to stop protecting the system that makes it easier to hurt women than to help them.
We need laws that keep repeat offenders away from us.
We need policies that don’t wait for the next victim.
We need decision-makers who don’t blame Survivors for not being “perfect victims.”

Because guess what?

Women aren’t asking for too much.
Black folks aren’t making it up.
Children aren’t being dramatic.

We’re telling you:
The violence is real.
The pain is real.
The risk is real.
And so is the truth.

To every Survivor reading this:

You should never have had to fight that hard.
Not for safety.
Not for belief.
Not for your story.

But we see you.
We hear you.
And your story matters—even if the world is too slow to catch up.

Ugandan British Nurse Punished for Calling Convicted Male Pedophile “Mr”