A Woman I Know Once Told Me That All Her Life She Has Been Running Away.

Running away to protect her sanity and dignity as a woman. Running away from the eyes of predatory men, running away from the hands that feel entitled to her body and running away from spaces that were never made for her to feel safe.

I didn’t understand it back then, but I do now. Because more or less this is the life I have been living too. This was the life of my mother, her mother, and every woman I know.

We have always been running. Whether it's running away from danger or running toward safety, women have never stopped running.

For every girl, fear is stitched into her skin long before she can speak. The realization that being a girl is a threat to her own safety comes early. She is not told what she should fear, only that she must, and she is not taught to fight back. She is only taught to fear, to shrink, to hide, and to run.

As she grows, the unnamed threat takes shape. It starts to have a face, a form, and ‘it’ becomes a man. She listens to the women around her, she watches the headlines in newspapers, and she learns that men have the power to take, to break, not because she isn’t careful enough but because the world allows them to.

She is taught that his choice to ‘not’ doesn’t mean he ‘can’t.’ So, she must fear and obey to be safe.

This possibility shapes the way she lives her entire life.

First, it was her parents’ reminders to lock the doors and to recheck the locked doors; then it was the ‘text me when you get home,’ ‘share your location,’ ‘don’t go alone,’ and ‘maybe you should change.’

She grows up not feeling safe in her own skin and not feeling safe in her own house. She carries this fear with her when she steps outside, onto the streets, into alleys, restrooms, and onto buses and cabs. Always on the lookout, always on edge, never to be fully at peace with herself.

Now she’s old, but she can’t help but think, what would life have been if she never had to fear? What was it like to be at the concerts and parties she was never allowed to go to? What made the girls laugh at the sleepovers she declined? How does it feel to take a walk under the stars? And go to the beach at night? All the friendships she could have made, the adventures she missed, the moments that passed her by, and the life half-lived.

It was never fair, but most women simply exist, watching others embrace and live life while being told it was never meant for her. She is always expected to accept it.

We were raised to fear; our mothers and grandmothers were raised to fear, but this cycle of womanhood being one of pain, let it end with us.

Let us not pass down the generational curse and teach our daughters courage instead of caution, freedom instead of fear, and to fight back instead of running away. Let us fight to place the pen in our daughter's hands so they can write their own stories instead of being written by others.

And to all the women who have spent a lifetime watching instead of living, to all the women who lived their whole lives in the shadows of fear. To all the mothers, grandmothers, and sisters, life is still waiting for you.

The sky still holds the stars for you, the night breeze longs to take a walk with you, the laughter and adventures you missed have always felt empty without you, and the dreams you buried have always been waiting for you.

The world you were told wasn’t yours has never stopped waiting for you, and life never closed its doors on you. Your life is still yours, and it has always been calling your name; answer it.