Today we march, because violence against girls and women is still too often treated as something incidental. Something tragic. Something personal. But gender-based violence is not an isolated event. It is not random. It is not rare. It is woven into the fabric of our society.
When we speak about gender-based violence, we are speaking about a continuum. It does not begin with visible harm. It begins much earlier with entitlement, with jokes that are brushed off, with boundaries that are tested, with silence. Serious harm does not appear out of nowhere. It grows in a culture where women’s boundaries are negotiable and their discomfort is dismissed. Where we are taught to question ourselves before we question the offender.
I know this not only through my work, but as a survivor. I know what it means to shrink before something is even visible. To wonder if you are overreacting. To carry shame that was never yours. And I also know what it means to survive. To rebuild. To reclaim your body and your voice. To move from shame to power.
This is why I founded The Safe Space Club. Because safety is not a privilege and healing is not a luxury. They are rights. Especially for girls, women, sex workers, queer people, refugee and migrant survivors who navigate violence not only in private spaces, but within institutions and systems that never considered them.
Gender-based violence is not only physical. It is psychological, economic, sexual and digital. It is deeply connected to power. If we truly want to end it, we cannot only respond when the damage is already visible. We must intervene earlier. We must challenge entitlement. We must normalize consent. We must stop minimizing harm.
Violence rarely starts big. It grows in small, tolerated steps. And every step that goes unchecked creates space for the next. Making violence visible is not about creating fear, it is about creating clarity. Because when we can name it, we can interrupt it. And when we interrupt it, we begin to change the culture.
The march is powerful. But the movement does not end here. The movement is what we do tomorrow. In our schools. In our homes. In our friendships. In the moments when we choose not to stay silent. We need accountability.
We need healing.
And we need each other.
Not just today. Every day.
Because this is not a moment.
It is a commitment.