Beyond Legislation: Community, Culture, and the Realities of Violence Against Women

On any morning in the city, a woman steps into the world carrying more than her bag or her plans. She carries instincts sharpened over time, shaped by stories whispered across kitchen tables and warnings repeated by those who love her: “Mag-ingat ka. Don’t walk alone. Avoid dark streets.” These reminders, offered with care but rooted in fear, reveal a truth many have grown accustomed to navigating. Across the Philippines, as in so many places, women move through spaces that promise opportunity yet still demand vigilance. As the country marks the 18-Day Campaign to End Violence Against Women, we are challenged to look at our shared spaces, streets, transport terminals, markets, workplaces, and even digital platforms, and ask the question too often avoided: "Are women truly safe here?"

Women Walking Our Streets

Imagine a woman walking home at dusk, adjusting the strap of her bag, quickening her steps as she senses attention she did not invite. Now picture a nurse in her white uniform, hurrying toward the hospital for a graveyard shift, her pace steady but her guard raised as she navigates dimly lit streets before midnight. Or think of our “ma’am” or “miss”, the teacher we rely on to guide our children, rushing home after an exhausting overtime spent checking papers, eager to return to her family yet forced to walk briskly, keys in hand, scanning every movement around her.

Though their stories unfold in different corners of the city, the feeling is the same: a tightening in the chest, a practiced awareness, an ever-present calculation of risk. The sidewalks are lit, people pass by, and life goes on, yet women like them feel their pulse rise because they know what could happen in a single moment. An unsolicited remark. A lingering stare. A hand that brushes too close. None of these women share the same profession or routine, but they share the same silent vigilance. These experiences, echoed by friends and strangers, show a truth that statistics alone cannot fully capture: the fear women learn to carry is not imagined, it is earned from lived patterns repeated across cities, towns, and barangays.

The Ride Home Feels Like a Battlefield

Public transportation, meant to carry people safely to their destinations, too often becomes a space where women shrink themselves to avoid unwanted attention. Anyone who has ridden the MRT/LRT or a bus at rush hour knows how bodies press together. For women, this closeness can cross the line from uncomfortable to unsafe. Have you seen the trending posts on social media, men exposing themselves in jeeps, or others maliciously touching girls in a crowded MRT? A lingering hand. A body that inches closer. A whisper meant to intimidate. Women and girls endure these moments silently, eyes fixed on the next stop, waiting for relief. The ride home should never feel like a battlefield. Women should be able to stand in a crowded vehicle without guarding every inch of their space.

Public Spaces, Hidden Threats

Inside markets and malls, women weave through crowds carrying groceries, bags, and daily responsibilities, yet even these familiar spaces are not free from risk. A stare that lingers too long. A comment tossed casually. A touch disguised as an accident. I recall standing next to a mall security guard when a woman in her 30s passed by, and to my shock, I overheard him muttering to himself, “If I can only touch those huge behinds.” I felt immediate disgust and spoke up, telling him that his thoughts and behavior were wrong, uncalled for, and indeed a violation of the Safe Spaces Act. These experiences, often dismissed or ignored, happen far more frequently than most realize, and for countless women, they are impossible to forget. Public spaces should bring communities together, not force women to constantly calculate whether simply being present will put them at risk.

A Call to Uphold the Safe Spaces Act

In 2019, the Philippines enacted the Safe Spaces Act (RA 11313), a crucial law that finally named acts like catcalling, leering, stalking, flashing, and unwanted touching as punishable offenses. It put into law what women had long understood: harassment is not harmless; it is a violation of dignity. But a law without widespread knowledge or consistent enforcement remains limited. Communities must raise awareness, local governments must uphold the rules, and the public must refuse to tolerate behavior that diminishes safety. Real progress happens not only through laws but through cultural shifts.

Behind every statistic lies a life disrupted, a woman who avoided a street, who changed her commute, who stayed silent because she feared no one would believe her. These stories demand more than sympathy. They require participation. Violence against women is not woven into fate; society chooses whether to confront it or ignore it. Prevention happens when people speak up, support survivors, report violations, and insist on safer systems and norms.

Action does not always require grand movements. Sometimes it begins with a bystander refusing to stay quiet. A friend accompanying someone to file a complaint. A barangay reinforcing its public safety measures. A transport operator reminding passengers of respectful conduct. Sometimes action looks like believing women the first time they speak. Sometimes it is choosing not to laugh at a sexist comment. Sometimes it is teaching boys and young men that respect is a non-negotiable part of being human.

The hope is simple yet urgent: for women to move freely through this country without bracing themselves. To walk down a quiet street without gripping their keys. To ride a jeepney without shrinking their bodies. To shop in a market without calculating possible risks. To exist - online or offline - with a sense of ease. As we observe the 18-Day Campaign to End Violence Against Women, let us remember that safety is more than the absence of danger; it is the presence of respect. It is the confidence to move, speak, and live without fear. This is the cultural shift our generation can champion if we commit to it. Every woman deserves safety in every space, and building that reality is a responsibility shared by all.