When I was a little girl, I had these hand-me-down shoes that I loved. I wore them everywhere. Anywhere, really. I don't think I cared whether they were appropriate for where I was going. If those were the shoes I wanted to wear, then those were the shoes I was wearing. And when they became too small, I still didn't want to let them go. I would squeeze my feet into them and somehow convince myself that they still fit. I imagine an adult looking at me and thinking, Child, these shoes are clearly too small. Please take them off. But I loved them. And I think about those shoes sometimes when I hear us talk about things like seasons, letting go, releasing, creating room, moving on. Usually, when we talk about letting go, there is something wrong with the thing we're letting go of. It has become toxic. It doesn't serve us anymore. It is holding us back. We have outgrown it. We need to make room for something better. And yes, sometimes that is exactly what letting go looks li...
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...