A state of emergency in all but name

Femicide, rape, kidnappings, and gruesome murders are no longer just social issues, they are an urgent national security crisis. Kenyans have been repeatedly forced to demand basic safety. This shows we have a system that has failed in its most fundamental constitutional duty.
Look at our Constitution:
Article 26: Right to life.
Article 27: Equality and freedom from discrimination.
Article 28: Human dignity.
Article 29: Freedom and security of the person.
Article 39: Freedom of movement and residence.
Article 53: Children’s rights.
These laws are not there to fill pages, they are there to be implemented.
We are long past the stage where femicide was dismissed as the consequence of women “wanting a soft life.” That is the most insulting excuse I have ever come across when we are looking at a relentless wave of women being killed, the majority at the hands of their lovers, family members, or someone they know. Because of a broken system, justice is constantly delayed, and delayed justice is justice denied.
The lack of severity when handling these cases when the crisis began is exactly what led us here. Today, we are not just fighting against femicide, the situation has turned into a daily horror movie across the country. When we were young, our parents were more worried about us losing money on the way to the shop, being late to school, or being chased by our neighbour’s dog. Today, letting your child walk to school in the morning does not guarantee she will return in the evening.
Social media is flooded with missing children posters, news of another lady killed, and the bodies of mutilated children being found. Yet, the people with the power to fix this are either fighting among themselves or making vital adjustments to entirely different laws. We are facing a severe shortage of political will, institutional accountability, and emergency resource allocation. Because of a broken legal process, cases drag on for years while perpetrators are released on bail and sent back to the exact same neighbourhoods where their victims live, leading to rampant witness intimidation and community silence.
We are experiencing a permanent erosion of the rights meant to protect us. Either the state has failed to protect us, or it is actively protecting the guilty. Socioeconomic status plays a massive role in this denial of justice. The sheer burden of reporting a case, obtaining a P3 form, hiring a legal representative, and traveling to distant courts forces grieving families into impossible situations until they lose the will to fight. It is simply not fair.
Compromised investigations, lost evidence, and botched files that let perpetrators walk away have turned the state from a protector into a barrier. We just want to go out and come back safely. Why is it so hard to be a woman in our own country today?
Let us talk about the irreversible loss that courts completely overlook. A court verdict cannot reverse a violation. Victims are scarred for life. For the most unfortunate families, they are forced to choose between managing court dates or making funeral arrangements. If the relevant institutions are doing their jobs, why are these cases increasing day by day?
We do not need more empty promises or political theatre, we need fast-tracked specialized courts for gender-based violence, accessible P3 forms, and denial of pre-trial release on compelling safety grounds for perpetrators. The state must bridge this gap, because surviving should not be a luxury reserved only for those who can afford it. Yet, while we wait for a system that cares, we are forced to look to each other for survival and hope.
The world is harsh to women, we face irrelevant speculation from all sides and societal judgment. Our ambitions can be as high as we want, our dreams can be as big as we want and our courage can be as strong as we want. Let us not allow ourselves to be drowned out by the world’s focus on gender. I pray we have the strength to move forward without hesitation, always.