In my country, barbed wire is everywhere strung along fences to keep danger out. It’s cheap, sharp, and seen as protection. But when I was 8, it didn’t protect me. I was running from my abuser, desperate to escape, and tried to scale a fence. The barbed wire caught my dress, tore it and tore into my thigh too. I still remember the sting, the panic, the feeling of being trapped by something meant to guard.

Barbed wire doesn’t ask questions. It doesn’t care if you’re running from harm or toward safety. It only knows how to cut. For some of us, the real danger was never outside the fence, it was inside. And the wire just made it harder to leave.

Not all protection protects. Not all fences are meant to keep the bad out. sometimes, they keep the hurting in.