When She’s Killed, It’s Not a Competition

So far this year twenty seven women have lost their lives to violence in Northern Ireland. 

The most recent is Sarah Montgomery, a mother of two who was expecting her third child, murdered in her own home. 

This afternoon I went for a walk in the rain hoping the rhythm of my footsteps and the hush of the forest would help me process my thoughts and calm my anger. Instead, as I passed beneath dark branches and felt raindrops on my face, I found myself consumed by anxiety. I avoid making eye contact as a man walks towards me and when he says hello I wonder why that simple greeting makes me so nervous. A few seconds later I look around to make sure he has kept walking. He is most likely harmless, but I cannot know that. The beauty of nature could not drive away the hypervigilance that comes from being a woman and a survivor of domestic abuse from my former partner.

That restless fear should not be part of everyday life but for me and for so many others it is.

The scariest truth is that most women who are murdered or assaulted in Northern Ireland are harmed by people they know, often current or former partners, which turns familiar faces into potential threats.

I have seen so much online and heard countless conversations about ending violence against women and girls and all too often the response is “what about men?” It is a distraction and a deflection that misses the point and often comes with the well-meaning caveat “not all men”. But as a woman I do not know which men are safe and that uncertainty is terrifying.

This is not an academic exercise in statistics but lived experience. In this region so many women know someone who disappeared behind closed doors carrying a secret fear. They know a friend who hides bruises, a sister who flinches at shouting, a colleague who does not stay late because the walk home feels unsafe. Violence here is woven into everyday life even as we pretend it should not be. We talk about policy frameworks and strategic plans but while ministers draft words in Parliament Buildings women continue to live in fear. We need more women’s refuges where survivors can find safety without shame. 

We need councils and community groups to invest in outreach that reaches hidden, silent victims. And we need trauma-informed counselling, legal support and healthcare that treats survivors as people, not case numbers.

Education must begin long before abuse occurs. Relationships and Sexuality Education should teach every child without opt outs the meaning of consent, the harm of misogyny and the value of respect. 

It is baffling that parties try to influence what is taught or that parents can withdraw their children on religious grounds. If young people leave school without these tools they are vulnerable in a world where even sacred institutions have been tainted by shameful secrets.

I think about International Women’s Day and how some women feel uneasy celebrating it. They grew up in a system that taught them their voices did not matter and feel they are not important enough to demand change. But when women in positions of influence speak up, whether in business, politics or community life, they signal to every survivor that her life has value and her story deserves to be heard.

I walked through that forest looking for peace and found only questions echoing in my mind: who can I trust, where is safety? 

I also worry for my daughter and what lies ahead for her future. Until we face the harsh truth that violence against women and girls in Northern Ireland is a gendered crisis rooted in centuries of patriarchy and political inertia nothing will change. 

Let us keep our focus where it belongs on preventing tragedies, on healing survivors, on teaching every child the meaning of respect and, for once, I do not want to hear “what about men”. 

This is about women and no man should feel uncomfortable because of that.