Love—such a simple word, yet one layered with complexities that seem to shift depending on who you ask. In a world where we are constantly bombarded with glittering images of romance, grand gestures, and the illusion that love must look a certain way, it’s easy to lose sight of its essence. As a feminist in Nairobi, I often reflect on how love has been defined and misdefined, especially for women. What does love truly mean in a society where patriarchy has painted over our realities, sometimes masking love as possession or duty?
Love is freedom. It's the freedom to be your full, unapologetic self in the presence of another, without fear of judgment or ridicule. In a world that tells us to shrink or conform, true love holds space for you to expand, to grow, and to evolve. It doesn't demand that you mold yourself into a palatable version of who you are but rather celebrates your raw, unfiltered existence.
Love is reciprocal. It’s the quiet understanding that for every ounce of care you pour into someone else, that care will be poured back into you—not as a transaction but as a flow. When love becomes one-sided, when it demands all of you while offering nothing in return, it ceases to be love and instead becomes an obligation or a performance.
And then there's self-love, the foundation upon which all other forms of love are built. Patriarchy has long taught women to place their value in how much love they can give to others—be it to a partner, a child, or even a job—while neglecting the love they owe themselves. But to truly love someone else, you must first know how to love yourself. This is not the self-indulgent, Instagram-influencer version of self-love but the deep, sometimes painful work of understanding your own worth, your boundaries, and your desires.
As a Nairobi feminist, I often see love as an act of rebellion. To love oneself, to love another with honesty and respect, to create partnerships built on equality—that is revolutionary in a world that thrives on power imbalances. It is a rejection of the narratives that tell us love must be sacrificial or hierarchical. True love is an equal partnership, one that refuses to chain itself to outdated norms.
And finally, love is action. It’s the quiet moments of care, the consideration of someone else’s needs, and the constant choice to nurture, even when it feels difficult. Love is not passive. It demands effort, but it must never demand our identity, our agency, or our autonomy. Real love lifts; it doesn’t weigh down.
In this world of constant noise about what love should be, perhaps we need to strip it down to its core. Love is respect. Love is equality. Love is freedom. Anything less? That’s not love—it’s control wearing a pretty disguise.
Let us love, yes, but let us love with open eyes.
