We are told to run to the police when the world turns dark, but in Nairobi, the police station is often where the real nightmare begins. It’s a special kind of betrayal, sharper than any ex-boyfriend’s threat. You gather your remaining shards of dignity, walk through those gates, and find yourself face-to-face with officers who treat your trauma like a lunchtime comedy special. Whether it’s being forced to display your intimate photos to a room full of gawking strangers or being shouted down as a “prostitute” because you dared to report a stalker, the message is clear: your pain is their entertainment.

The government loves a good acronym and a glossy launch. We have “Policare,” gender desks in every station, and officers who have supposedly been “trained.” The police spokesperson will recite these achievements with the practiced ease of a man who has never had to beg an investigator to open a file. But in the real world - the one we actually live in - it’s 2025 and a survivor is still being asked for Sh10,000 just to get a statement recorded. Policy in this country is a ghost; it looks good on paper but vanishes the moment you need to touch it.

Let’s talk about the “investigation” tax. When a woman hands over her phone as evidence, she isn’t just giving up a device; she’s giving up her livelihood, her contacts, and her connection to the world. Often, that phone is never seen again, swallowed by a system that views “evidence” as a perk of the job. Add to that the “sextortion” where investigators demand sexual favors to move a case along, and you realize the system isn’t broken - it’s working exactly how it was designed: to protect the predator and punish the victim for speaking up.

The result is a silence that the state has earned. When a woman loses an election because of an online smear campaign and chooses not to report it, she isn’t being weak; she’s being rational. She knows that the “help” offered by the station comes with a side of public humiliation and a bill she can’t afford to pay. The stories of these encounters spread through WhatsApp groups and church parking lots like a warning: “Do not bother reporting.” We are building a society where the most logical choice a victim can make is to suffer in silence.

Stop telling women to be “brave” without finishing the sentence. Tell them they need to be brave enough to be mocked, brave enough to be extorted, and brave enough to lose their property to the very people sworn to protect it. Until there is actual accountability for the officer behind the desk who turns a survivor’s life into a joke, every campaign urging women to report is just an invitation to walk into a building we all know is already on fire. The state isn’t just failing to stop the trauma; it’s pulling up a chair and joining in.

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