I’ve been in my hometown, Wolverhampton, this week and my heart feels heavy.
The recent attacks have shaken me deeply. First in Oldbury where a Sikh woman was raped. Then in Walsall where another young Sikh woman was subjected to a racially aggravated assault and rape. These aren’t faraway places I only know from the news. These are towns I’ve walked through, roads I’ve driven down, communities that feel like home.
And yet, stories like these pierce that sense of familiarity and safety. They remind us how fragile it can be, especially for women who look like me.
For many South Asian women, safety isn’t something we take for granted. We navigate our worlds with an invisible armour, keys clenched in our fists when walking at night, double-checking routes and sharing our location with friends. We do all the “right” things. And still, we’re not safe.
When attacks like these happen, they don’t just harm individuals. They send ripples through entire communities. They awaken old fears. They stir anger, sadness and a deep weariness.
Because behind every headline is a woman who should never have had to endure this. Behind every statistic is a mother, a sister, a daughter, a life changed forever.
As I’ve spoken to family and friends this week, one thing has been clear: this is not just about gender-based violence. It’s also about race, identity and the specific way women of colour experience both vulnerability and invisibility.
We deserve better.
We deserve to walk freely.
We deserve to feel safe in our own communities.
We deserve a world where our race and our womanhood are not reasons we are targeted.
To the women who are hurting, who feel fear in their bones, I see you. To those finding courage in community, thank you. And to all of us, may we keep holding each other, speaking up and pushing for change.
Because silence has never kept us safe. But solidarity might.
Rupinder x