This week, we wear purple.
We wear it for the survivors.
For the warriors fighting on the front lines.
For every woman and child who deserves safety, dignity, and hope.

We stand together because standing alone is no longer enough.

Please remember: everything I share comes from my own heart, my own experience, and my own encounters with GBV survivors.

We live in a society that has grown numb to this pain—where tragedy has become routine, where stories of heartbreak and violence no longer shock us the way they should. We hear the most devastating cases on the news… but what about the ones we never hear? The countless silent battles happening behind closed doors?

Growing up, this was not spoken about. Now it’s everywhere, and somehow, we’ve learned to live with it—when we should never have accepted it at all.

Too often, we look at the woman and ask, “Why didn’t you leave?”
But we fail to see the manipulation, the fear, the threats, the emotional chains wrapped around her.
And then there are the ones who falsely cry wolf, making the path even harder for real victims—women who are already fighting for their lives and their truth.

Victim blaming must end.
Shame must end.
Nothing you wear, say, or do ever justifies abuse.
No means no. Always.

I’ve met so many women who never report what happened to them because they believe nothing will come of it. Because they’ve been taught that their pain doesn’t matter.

To the survivors reading this:
You are powerful.
It takes unimaginable strength to walk away.
It takes courage to report it.
It takes a warrior’s heart to keep going.
You are not alone.
You are more than what happened to you.
You are a survivor. And if no one has told you this yet—I am proud of you.

To the ones still too afraid to speak:
It’s okay.
Your voice will come when you are ready.
Never be ashamed of your silence. Healing takes time.

As women—mothers, sisters, wives, caregivers—we cannot keep looking away.
It takes a nation to fight this battle.
It takes strong women to carry one another when someone’s legs can no longer hold them up.

And together, we will rise.