Before You Knew My Name

by Jacqueline Bublitz

Tell men not to rape and murder us! Have stronger sentencing for violent crimes! We should not be the ones changing our behavior here! It might even seem that things will get better. But after a while, the city will go back to its rhythms, it will once again become a place where women walk alone at night, and talk to strangers on the street, and avoid only certain places. That girl, the one they marched for, won’t be forgotten, but her murder will stop being a fresh wound, eventually. It will settle on the city like a small, ugly scar. Then, when it happens again, the city will be tired. No one will march this time, or shout in the streets; their anger will be jaded, quiet. Flowers will be laid, and candles lit, but the death of another bright young girl will come more like a reminder from now on, an alarm clock ringing. The city was already weary when her body was found. Time and again they will come with their flowers and candles. From Mexico City to Madrid to Melbourne and Manila, these cities will be bone-tired as they watch the flowers wilt and the candles burn down. Here lies the pain of another woman, another community, the flowers and the candles say. There is silence for a time. And then the alarm sounds out again.