Being born a woman, especially in Africa, has often felt like living in darkness and being burdened with the biggest sin ever to exist. I grew up in a village where cultural myths kept women oppressed despite their daily struggles. Given the chance to eliminate anything from this world, I would not hesitate to eradicate violence against women and girls.

During my final year at university, while studying abroad, I worked part-time to support myself beyond academics and necessities. I shared a house with a white man and a young Kenyan woman couple, and thankfully, racism was not brought up as an issue within our household. However, this man consistently spoke ill of women and treated them as nothing more than maids for men.

One day, I returned home from work to hear screams from the house. To my horror, I discovered that my pregnant housemate was being brutally beaten by her boyfriend for refusing to have an abortion. He would kick her stomach and drag her across the floor. When I tried to intervene, he slapped me and belittled me, calling me a useless black beggar who only came to his country for survival. He continued to degrade us, reducing black women to objects of darkness and sex. I felt profoundly offended but managed to control myself and silently record his abusive tirade. He made it clear to us that reporting him would have little impact.

I took my injured friend to my room while the man left. After some time, I noticed a pool of blood and realized she was losing her baby; I proceeded to rush her to the hospital. This incident prompted me to take a bold step to go to the police station and report the assault. When the perpetrator was summoned, he denied involvement and claimed to have been at a party that night. The police officers turned against us, accusing us of defaming their own. Feeling helpless, I reached out to other Kenyans abroad for assistance. We were held at the station until fellow Kenyans came to our rescue. We shared the videos we had recorded, and with the help of a Kenyan attorney, we were eventually released. The case went to court, and after a long battle, the perpetrator was sentenced to three years in jail.

Following this traumatic incident, I conducted extensive personal research on empowering women to be themselves unapologetically. Through the research, I connected with numerous young women who shared their struggles and how they equally felt abandoned. It became clear to me that there was a significant gap in support for marginalized areas. This realization fueled my motivation to become an activist. I committed to returning home and assisting young women and girls in marginalized communities, equipping them with the tools to advocate for themselves. I seized the opportunity in Samburu County and began collaborating with other organizations to bridge the gap and contribute to policy-making. In my organization, we provide a safe space where young women can share their traumas and invite counselors to guide them through various therapies for healing and stability.

Ending violence against women and girls requires a collective effort that involves partnerships and mentorship. Mentored by Akili Dada, I aspire to stand alongside more women in their journey towards liberation and empowerment. As I advocate for an end to violence against women and girls, I call for an end to victim-blaming and speaking out against all forms of gender-based violence. Just because it hasn’t happened to you doesn’t mean the other person was careless.

By Beryl.