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I used to dream of a community where children could grow up not feeling afraid. Where women didn’t have to scream every night. Where survivors could rise as leaders and lean into their lived experiences to bring the change they wanted to see. The dream didn’t come from some abstract place, it came from living in Kibera, from knowing what it feels like when poverty exposes girls to vulnerabilities, from understanding firsthand what happens when children don’t have the language to recognize violence as it’s happening to them.