im just 14

I’m just 14, and I refuse to stay silent. There are so many things I don’t understand yet. But what I do know is this: the world can be really unfair, especially to enervated females like me. Every day, when I turn on the news or scroll through my phone, I’m bombarded with stories that make my heart ache, stories about girls and women being broken down in ways that I can’t even fully comprehend. 

Why does this keep happening? Why do girls and women keep suffering while the world around them seems to just move on? It’s terrifying to think that in a country that celebrates its daughters on festivals like Kanyapujan, there are still places where girls aren’t safe, not even in their own homes or communities. Am I not the goddess you worship or the daughter to cherish?

When I look at these pictures, I see the faces of other girls and women, holding up signs, their expressions a mixture of anger, fear, and desperation. They’re shouting, but the only screams that are heard are those of suppression of thought.  The words on their signs hit me hard like a tornado. It’s like they’re begging, pleading for someone—anyone—to finally take action, to do something more than just void promises. I wonder, how did we get here? How did we become a country where so many girls live in fear, afraid that the next time they step out of their house might be their last. My grandmother tells me stories about her childhood, about playing in the streets until the sun went down, without a care in the world. But that’s not my reality. My reality is different. My reality is a world where I’m told not to trust strangers. My reality is a  world where I’m told to be careful. Where I’m told to watch how I dress, how I walk, how I talk, to cover up in public, to not wear crop tops or to not even pass a smile at a stranger passing by. But the truth is, no amount of caution can protect us from the monsters who roam free, unchecked, and unchallenged. It’s not our fault. It never was. And yet, every time another girl is hurt, it feels like the blame somehow falls back on us. We’re told to stay quiet, to not make a fuss. But why should we?  We’re all tired of empty promises. We’re tired of being told to be strong, to keep going, when it feels like the world is against us. It’s as if we’re stuck in an endless loop, with the same horrific stories repeating in the relentless loop of echoes. The same excuses, the same justifications. We hear things like, “She was out too late,” “She shouldn’t have been wearing that,” or “She was asking for it.” It’s sickening to hear these words, as if a girl’s choices somehow make her responsible for the violence done to her. But no one asks why the perpetrator was out late or why he felt entitled to hurt someone. Why does the burden always fall on us? As I grow older, I’m starting to realize that it’s not just about what happens to us—it’s about how society reacts. We live in a culture where the victims are shamed and the criminals are often protected. This is the same society that teaches us to stay silent, to hide our pain, to accept injustice as part of our lives. I know I’m not alone. So many girls and women feel the same way. When I look at the women in these pictures, I see a reflection of all women. I see their pain, their frustration, their anger, and I feel it too. But, I also see their strength. I see their determination to fight back, to demand justice, to refuse to be silenced. I often think about the girls who didn’t make it, the girls whose lives were cut short by violence and hate.I wonder about their families, their friends, the people who loved them. What must it feel like to lose someone in such a brutal way, to know that they suffered, to know that the world let them down? It’s unbearable. And yet, it keeps happening. We’re all well aware of one of the recent cases in Bengal, about a young doctor on duty, who was brutally raped and killed. She had dreams, hopes, and a future ahead of her. But in one night, all of that was taken away. Her life was stolen from her and for what reason. What could possibly justify such cruelty? I can’t even begin to imagine the terror she must have felt, the pain she must have endured. It makes me sick to my core. And then, to see how the world reacted—how the news treated her as just another statistic, how the authorities tried to cover it up, how the public quickly moved on to the next story—it's infuriating. This wasn’t just a tragedy; it was a failure. A failure to hold those responsible accountable, a failure to value human life. 

 I’m just 14, but I understand that I want to be part of that change. I don’t want to live in a world where no tender heart is shielded from the storm,  where not a single innocent soul escapes the shadow’s reach. Where women have to send their location to their family before entering a cab, where they have to be distraught and worried about what might happen to them if they’re out late at night, where their family is on the verge of calling the police if their daughter misses a single call of theirs. I want to live in a world where justice isn’t just a word, but a reality. And I’m willing to fight for that world, no matter how long it takes. We can’t let fear or doubt or hatred stop us from fighting for what’s right. We have to keep going, even when it feels impossible, even when it feels like no one is listening. Because if we don’t, who will?