No, Thank you... I Won´t Be Wearing Florals to This Fight...

The recent tragedy of Ugandan marathon runner Rebecca Cheptegei, brutally murdered by her former boyfriend, is yet another painful reminder of the epidemic we rarely speak about. Cheptegei, a mother and elite athlete, was set on fire in front of her daughters. And while this story may have stirred outrage momentarily, domestic violence, a far-reaching crisis, continues to be swept under the rug.

This topic hits uncomfortably close to home. The fear, the isolation--all too familiar. The stories we hear are often framed as tragic, isolated incidents, with the focus on the resilience of the victims or the heartbreak of their circumstances. But the reality is far more brutal: lives aren’t just lost—they are stolen, ripped away by those who claim love but act with control, cruelty, and malice.

In Kenya, where nearly 34% of women experience physical violence, Rebecca’s story is just one in a long line of horrors. And yet, society often chooses silence. We see films that dress up abuse with romance and redemption, we hear media spin tragedy into melodrama, and we look the other way. There’s always a new face, a new headline. And once the shock wears off, we move on.

But the abuse doesn’t stop. Behind closed doors, violence festers, destroying lives, tearing apart families. It’s a disease that thrives on secrecy, on the hesitation of others to intervene. People are reporting their abusers, reaching out for help, and they are being ignored, failed by systems that should protect them.

This epidemic runs deeper than any one case, any one headline. It’s a global crisis. Domestic violence cuts across all lines—class, race, status. And it continues to claim victims, many of whom never make it into the spotlight. The cases we don’t hear about are just as devastating. Survivors are left picking up the pieces of their shattered lives, wondering why their pain wasn’t enough to break through the silence.

And it’s not just physical violence. Emotional manipulation, financial control, psychological abuse—they’re harder to see, but just as damaging. Survivors often feel trapped, with no way out, and no one willing to listen. And when they do leave, it’s the most dangerous time, with abusers ramping up their violence in a final, desperate bid for control.

So what can (must) we do? Stop looking away. Stop dressing up toxic relationships as tragic love stories (yes, complete with florals, frills, and a feel-good Taylor Swift soundtrack— I am absolutely looking at you It Ends With Us…). 

In short: We demand better. And more.

More funding for shelters, more protection for survivors, more conversations that acknowledge the full, messy, brutal reality of domestic violence. 

Instead of “wearing our florals”, let it be battle armor…  

 That beginning with us is a show I will sign up for...