If a child grows up to be kind, healthy, responsible, self-sufficient, and decent—but not wealthy—has the sacrifice failed? Most people would instinctively say no. Yet many families behave as though the answer is yes. Not openly, of course. No parent sits their child down and says, "I didn't raise you to be happy. I raised you to be rich." But expectations have a way of revealing themselves. In comparisons with more successful relatives. In questions about promotions, land, and home ownership. In the disappointment that hangs in the air when a child is doing well enough to survive but not well enough to transform the family's fortunes. And perhaps nowhere is this tension more visible than in Kenya, where sacrifice is often treated as the highest form of love. Parents sacrifice for their children. Older siblings sacrifice for younger siblings. Entire generations sacrifice in the hope that the next one will live better. But what happens when sacrifice quietly becomes an...
When Ivy Wangechi, a promising medical student, was murdered in broad daylight by a man believed to be pursuing her romantically, the country erupted in grief—and then quickly fractured into two camps. One side mourned her death and labeled it femicide. The other asked: “But wasn’t he supporting her financially? Shouldn’t she have made her intentions clear?” This question wasn’t new. It’s the same tired refrain echoed every time a woman is killed after rejecting a man: “She took his money.” “She was leading him on.” “He was hurt.” But behind the horror and hashtags lies a bigger, more complex truth: We don’t know how to date anymore. We don’t know how to say no. We don’t know how to hear no. We don’t know what healthy courtship looks like. And dangerously, we’ve begun to mistake transaction for connection. This is Not Victim Blaming Let’s say this upfront: Nothing justifies murder. No rejection, no heartbreak, no “being used.” Violence is a choice. And women are not to blame...