On Sunday, I teamed up with someone I met through our virtual circle for Black women. Through that space, Tasha Plaza and I connected, learned more about each other, and began discussing how we could collaborate.
During one of our conversations, I spoke out loud about my stalking experience for the first time. I also shared some of the violence, fear, and danger I have witnessed within the communities I serve.
Together, we decided to host a Women’s Personal Safety Workshop.
Before this workshop, I believed I understood what self defense meant.
Like many people, I associated self defense with the physical act of protecting yourself. I thought about fighting back, escaping an attacker, carrying a protective device, or knowing how to respond once someone became physically aggressive.
But during the workshop, I realized that physical self defense is only one part of a much larger conversation.
ITAVFoundation hosted Women’s Personal Safety: Awareness, Avoidance, and Decision Making in collaboration with Tasha Plaza of Prime Legacy Security and USCCA. The conversation challenged us to think about personal safety before a situation ever becomes physical.
It made me ask two important questions.
What is safety?
And what is self defense?
Safety is not simply the absence of immediate danger.
Safety is having the information, awareness, resources, and options needed to protect yourself. It is being able to recognize when something does not feel right. It is knowing where the exits are. It is understanding your surroundings. It is having a plan and knowing when to leave.
Safety can look like trusting your instincts instead of dismissing them.
It can look like telling someone where you are going, keeping your phone charged, changing your routine, establishing boundaries, or deciding not to enter an environment that makes you uncomfortable.
Safety can also look like community.
It is knowing who you can call when you need help. It is having people who take your concerns seriously. It is having access to resources before a dangerous situation becomes a tragedy.
Safety is not paranoia.
It is preparation.
We often move through life believing that serious danger will announce itself clearly. We imagine that we will immediately recognize a threat and know exactly how to respond.
In reality, dangerous situations can develop gradually. Warning signs can be subtle. Fear, confusion, shock, and uncertainty can make it difficult to process what is happening in the moment.
Awareness gives us time.
Time to think.
Time to choose.
Time to leave.
Time to survive.
Growing up, self defense was presented to me, as it was to so many people, as fighting back.
But self defense can begin long before anyone throws a punch.
Self defense can be awareness.
It can be avoidance.
It can be walking away from an argument.
And walking away is not always easy.
Sometimes we struggle to walk away because of pride, anger, fear, or embarrassment. Other times, we are willing to leave, but the other person chooses to follow us, block our exit, continue the confrontation, or make the situation worse.
Self defense can mean refusing to allow pride to keep you in a dangerous situation.
It can mean recognizing that being right is not always worth risking your life.
We live in a culture that sometimes celebrates confrontation. People are encouraged to stand their ground socially, prove that they are not afraid, defend their pride, or make sure they get the last word.
But what happens after that final word?
What happens when an argument escalates beyond what anyone expected?
What happens when someone has a weapon?
What happens when a decision made within seconds creates legal, emotional, physical, and financial consequences that last for years?
Walking away does not make you weak.
Avoiding an unnecessary confrontation does not make you a coward.
Sometimes the strongest decision you can make is choosing not to participate in something that could cost you your life.
The purpose of self defense is not to prove how tough you are.
The purpose is to survive.
Conversations about safety require honesty.
We can teach awareness, avoidance, preparation, and decision making. We can encourage people to trust their instincts, create safety plans, report threats, document patterns, and seek help.
But we must never use that education to blame someone for the violence committed against them.
I have lost friends to domestic violence.
They reported the abuse. They sought help. They followed legal processes. They did many of the things society tells survivors they are supposed to do.
And they were still killed.
That truth fills me with grief and anger.
It also forces me to think about how we judge survivors when they fight back.
If one of my friends had physically defended herself against the person threatening her life, would she have been believed?
Would the history of violence have mattered?
Would the law have understood the danger she faced?
Or would surviving have meant spending years proving that she had the right to survive?
These are not hypothetical questions.
We are watching them unfold in the case of Keshia Golden.
In October 2022, she was eight months pregnant when she stabbed her partner, Calvin Sidney, once in the leg during an altercation after her baby shower. The knife struck his femoral artery, and he later died.
Her attorneys said Sidney attacked her and repeatedly slammed her head into a counter. They also described a documented history of domestic violence, including an order of protection and numerous calls to police.
Prosecutors presented a different account. They alleged that the couple had been separated during the confrontation and that she followed Sidney into a bedroom before stabbing him.
She maintained that she acted in self defense to protect herself and her unborn child.
She was charged with first degree murder.
Under Illinois law, a first degree murder conviction ordinarily carries a prison sentence of 20 to 60 years. She was therefore facing at least 20 years in prison if she went to trial and was convicted.
On August 24, 2026, she accepted an agreement allowing her to plead guilty to involuntary manslaughter. She received 24 months of probation and 30 hours of community service.
She said she accepted the agreement because she did not want to risk being separated from her daughter.
Because she accepted a plea agreement, there was no trial ruling determining whether she legally acted in self defense. The disputed facts were never fully decided by a judge or jury.
However, the plea means she now has a felony conviction. According to her attorneys, that conviction could affect her ability to work in the field for which she trained and may create housing challenges for her and her daughter.
She avoided prison, but she did not walk away without consequences.
That is what stays with me.
A person can survive the original violence and still spend years inside a legal process, facing the possibility of losing her freedom, livelihood, housing, and ability to care for her child.
Keshia’s case does not mean that every claim of self defense is automatically accepted or rejected. It does show how complicated these cases can become when survivors, prosecutors, families, and courts interpret the same encounter differently.
We regularly tell women to protect themselves. But when they do, their actions may be examined by people who were not present, did not experience their fear, and did not have to make a decision within seconds.
A survivor may know that someone is dangerous long before that danger becomes visible to anyone else.
She may recognize a look, a change in tone, a pattern of behavior, or a threat that sounds harmless to someone unfamiliar with its history.
Safety is not a perfect checklist.
Following every recommended step does not guarantee that someone will be protected. Awareness and preparation can create more options, but responsibility for violence always belongs to the person choosing to cause harm.
This workshop helped me understand that self defense is not only about what your body can do.
Honestly, I had so many questions. I am glad we hosted this workshop because everything I thought I understood about self defense was only part of the story.
For years, we have been told to purchase protective items such as pepper spray, stun devices, and firearms.
I see friends and colleagues talk about going to the shooting range and getting that perfect shot. Learning how to use a firearm safely and accurately matters for anyone who chooses to own one.
But are those same conversations teaching the full meaning of self defense?
Are people learning when force is legally justified?
Are they learning the difference between force and deadly force?
Are they learning about avoidance, decision making, safe storage, and the emotional consequences of injuring or killing another person?
Are they learning what may happen after they use the tool?
Owning a protective device is not the same as having a complete safety plan.
I have never wanted to carry pepper spray, a stun device, or a firearm. That is my personal decision, and it is not a judgment of people who choose differently.
After this workshop, I feel even more secure in that decision.
Not because using a protective tool automatically means someone will go to jail. That is not accurate. The legal outcome depends on the circumstances, the type of force used, the law in that jurisdiction, and whether the force is found to have been justified.
My concern is that purchasing a tool does not automatically prepare someone to make a legal and potentially life altering decision within seconds.
A tool requires education, judgment, and an understanding of the consequences that may follow its use.
Self defense laws differ from state to state.
In Pennsylvania, the law generally recognizes the use of force when a person believes that force is immediately necessary to protect against another person’s unlawful force. Deadly force has stricter requirements and limitations.
Pennsylvania also provides civil immunity when a person’s use of force is legally justified under its self protection law.
That means it would not be accurate to say that the relative of an attacker can always successfully sue someone who acted in self defense.
The more complicated truth is that whether force was legally justified can still become the subject of an investigation or court proceeding.
A person may believe she was protecting her life while police, prosecutors, witnesses, or another family describe the encounter differently. Evidence may be reviewed. Decisions may be questioned. The amount of force used may be examined.
The tool itself does not decide whether an action was lawful.
The circumstances do.
This is why people need accurate legal education specific to where they live. Fear based statements and social media advice cannot replace guidance from qualified professionals who understand local law.
During the period when I was being stalked, I called the police multiple times.
I filed reports.
I replaced my home cameras with cameras that recorded activity.
I upgraded my home security system.
I made public posts on social media. At times, I named the person and shared their photograph because I wanted people around me to understand what was happening.
I saved every message, letter, and voicemail.
I was creating a record.
I understood that if the situation escalated, people might ask when it started, what happened, whether I told anyone, whether I contacted the police, and whether there was a documented pattern.
Documentation does not guarantee protection. It does not guarantee that someone will be believed, and it does not transfer responsibility from the person causing harm to the person experiencing it.
But documentation can preserve a timeline.
It can show that an incident was not isolated. It can preserve words that may later be denied. It can help explain why a person believed she was in danger.
I am not saying that everyone experiencing stalking should make public posts or identify the person online. Every situation is different, and public disclosure can create additional safety and legal concerns.
I am saying that my documentation became part of how I tried to protect myself.
What I learned is not that the law can never justify taking a life to protect your own. The law does recognize circumstances in which deadly force may be justified.
What I learned is that fear alone may not end the legal inquiry.
People may examine whether the danger was immediate, whether the force used was necessary, whether other options were available, and whether the evidence supports the account being presented.
Those questions may be asked long after the incident, by people who have time, distance, and safety that the person experiencing the danger did not have.
As a Black woman, I cannot separate this conversation from the way Black women and Black people are often perceived.
Our fear is not always believed.
Our pain is often questioned.
We can be perceived as the threat even when we are the ones in danger.
We may survive the violence only to find ourselves fighting to prove that we had the right to survive.
That possibility does not mean we should live in constant fear or believe the law will never protect us.
It means our safety education must include more than instructions about how to fight.
It must include awareness, documentation, decision making, local laws, community support, and access to qualified help.
Safety is not simply carrying something that can hurt another person.
Safety is awareness.
Safety is preparation.
Safety is knowing your options.
Safety is having people who listen when you say you are afraid.
Self defense is not only what happens during a physical attack.
It includes the decisions made before, during, and after danger presents itself.
Walking away can be self defense.
Calling for help can be self defense.
Creating distance can be self defense.
Documenting a pattern can be self defense.
Using physical force may also be self defense when the circumstances and law justify it.
The workshop did not leave me believing that women should never carry protective tools or physically fight back.
It left me understanding that a tool is not a safety plan and fighting is not the only form of self defense.
The goal is not to prove that you are tougher.
The goal is not to win an argument.
The goal is not to get the last word.
The goal is to survive.
The goal is to make it home.
And when someone survives, our systems should not make her spend years proving that her life was worth protecting.
This post shares my personal experience and reflections. It is not legal advice. Self defense laws vary by jurisdiction.
Sources
- Keshia Golden accepts a plea agreement in Calvin Sidney’s death, ABC7 Chicago
- Keshia Golden pleads guilty to involuntary manslaughter, CBS News Chicago
- Illinois sentencing range for first degree murder
- Pennsylvania law governing force in self protection
- Pennsylvania civil immunity for justified use of force
