Living in fear: When will safety stop being a woman’s burden?

It's broad daylight, but I still quicken my pace. These days, I keep my keys clenched between my fingers—just in case.

I avoid eye contact, knowing that even a glance could be misinterpreted. My mind races with escape routes. This isn't paranoia. This is routine. This is survival.

Every woman knows this fear. It is an old, familiar shadow that follows us wherever we go. We have learned to live with it, adapt to it, and plan our lives around it as unfair as it is.

I have limited how late I stay out unless work demands it. Even then, as I return home every evening, I count the shadows around the corner, never knowing if it is my own or a potential aggressor lurking in the dark.

The paranoia has taken root so deeply that it has begun to affect me physically. Headaches, stress, exhaustion—all because I have been conditioned to be constantly alert, constantly prepared for the worst.

And yet, when we talk about the violence and harassment that women face daily, the burden of safety always falls on us.

Stay safe. Don't go out late. Carry pepper spray. Don't wear that. Don't make eye contact. The list of instructions is endless.

We are expected to shrink ourselves, modify our behaviour, and accept fear as a fact of life. But why is the solution always about women adapting, rather than society changing?

The reality is, this fear is not new. Whether in Bangladesh or a so-called developed country, women have always moved through the world with caution.

Hate crimes against women are on the rise, and yet the response remains the same: Be careful.

But how careful is careful enough? How many precautions are enough to ensure that we make it home safely? And more importantly, why should we have to live like this at all?

What makes it even scarier is that if something does happen, the finger is always pointed at the victim.

What was she wearing? Why was she out alone? Why was she out so late? The scrutiny is relentless, the blame automatic.

Society demands that women live in fear, and yet when fear isn't enough to keep us safe, we are the ones held responsible for the violence inflicted upon us.

This is not an attack on men as a whole. It is an indictment of a system that continues to enable violence against women.

A system where too many men feel entitled to a woman's space, her body, her time.

A system where laws exist but are rarely enforced, where women are blamed for their own victimisation, and where predators walk free because accountability is an afterthought.

The fear women live with is not an overreaction; it is a logical response to a world that has proven, time and time again, that our safety is not guaranteed.

We tell women to be careful. When will we start telling men not to be dangerous?

Real change requires more than just self-defence tools and curfews for women.

It requires education, accountability, and a shift in societal norms. It requires men to be allies, not bystanders. It requires a justice system that actually delivers justice.

Until then, I will keep walking fast, clutching my keys, and counting the shadows.

Because in this world, simply existing as a woman remains a dangerous act.