12/11/2025
MASKAN exhibition on femicide, GBV and SGBV took us back to the very first time we heard of Sharon Otienoโs death in 2018.
A young woman full of dreams, silenced too soon, her story echoing through news headlines, classrooms, and courtrooms. It was not just the loss of a life; it was the death of a promise, a reminder that in this country, being a woman can sometimes be a dangerous thing.
The exhibition was not an easy walk. Each piece of art, each photograph felt like a wound reopened, a name remembered, a face recognized, a life mourned. Through colors, tears, and voices, we saw the pain of mothers who never got justice, sisters who never got closure, and daughters who grew up too fast because the world taught them fear before freedom.
MASKAN is not just art; it is a mirror held up to society. It forces us to ask: how many Sharons, how many Jennifers, how many nameless, voiceless women must we lose before we say enough?
In that space, we did not just grieve, we learned. We learned that femicide is not a womenโs issue; it is a human one. That silence protects perpetrators. That justice delayed is justice denied. That our collective memory must not fade because remembering is a form of resistance.
MASKAN reminded us that healing begins when we dare to confront pain, and that art, too, can be a weapon for truth, a prayer for justice, and a promise that never again should a womanโs name become a hashtag before her dreams are fulfilled.