To Women Everywhere: Be Loud — Inflict Pain

“All my life, all the men taking what they wanted and leaving when it was over.”
— Lisa Taddeo, Animal

That line has been ringing in my ears since I read it. And today, it cuts even deeper.

Because today, I read the news of a 17-year-old girl; a young life, a whole human, brimming with promise; shot dead in her own home in Islamabad. For what? For existing? For saying no? For being visible? For living on her own terms?

I don’t want to sound measured right now. I don’t want to sound “respectable.” I don’t want to lower my voice to make this grief and rage more digestible.

Because what happened to Sana Yousaf wasn’t an isolated incident. It is part of a larger pattern stitched into the fabric of this world, where women are expected to shrink, to soften, to smile politely when violated, and then to forgive.

But I don’t forgive.
And I don’t want other women to either.

The time for whispers is over.
To every woman reading this:

I want you to practice raising your voice. I want you to prepare your scream.Scream when a man crosses your boundary.
Shout when he glares at you with possession.
Tase him when he touches you without consent.
Slap him with the fury of every woman who couldn’t.

You are not property.
Not your father’s, not your husband’s, not your cousin’s, not the state’s.
You are not a vessel to carry the burdens of men’s entitlement and then be discarded.

This world has taught men they can do anything to us, anything, and walk away.
Because we were told to be patient.
To endure.
To protect our “dignity.”
To be careful.
To avoid provoking them.

But tell me: how many more of us must be careful and still end up dead?

I see women riding motorbikes to work in this country, and I’m floored. Their courage pierces me. Their audacity is ferocious. A hill I would die on.
And yet, as I watch them, I pray. I pray because I know this country is not ready to accept the fact that women are people. Whole, autonomous people.

Not bodies to be monitored. Not lives to be “managed.”

I want women to let their rage out. Not repress it.
Because when we swallow our pain, it festers. When we bury our anger, it rots.
Let the consequence of disrespect be immediate. Let it be visible. Let it hurt.

If you see a woman standing her ground, support her.
If you see a woman taking up space, say a silent prayer for her safety and for the fire in her bones.
If you see a woman daring to live, protect her — not because she’s weak, but because she’s strong enough to threaten the world’s assumptions.

They think we’re crazy when we get angry.
They mock our fury.
They call it hormonal. Or bitter. Or “too much.”
Let them.
Let’s be too much. Let’s be impossible to ignore.

To women everywhere:

Be loud. Inflict pain.

So the next time they think of touching what isn’t theirs, they’ll remember that the price of violating a woman is no longer silence.
It’s fire.