The ending of every year is a busy season not just because of the countdown to Christmas and New Year.
Forget the festive season and all that jazz.
From November 25 to the Human Rights Day on December 10, government agencies, development partners and non-governmental organisations switch into crisis mode as they commemorate the 16 Days of Activism against Gender-Based Violence (GBV).
Suddenly, inboxes light up with press statements, briefings, colourful hashtags, branded fabrics and a blitz of slogans that all sound painfully familiar.
Like clockwork, the nation is told that the campaign is about to start or the fight is well underway.
However, here is the uncomfortable truth: By the time you are announcing the campaign, you have already lost the plot.
Fighting GBV is not a seasonal communications assignment. It is a year-round behaviour-change agenda that demands continuity, intentionality and courage from those of us who sit in communication roles.
Let us be blunt. After the 16 days, what exactly are we communicating?
If all we offer is silence until the next November rolls around, we are not driving transformation. We are only running an annual ritual—and rituals do not change society. Consistent, data-driven and emotionally resonant communication does.
As communicators, we are not on the sidelines of the GBV response. We are part of the operational core. We shape narratives, drive public sentiment, influence institutional posture, and set the tone for national conversation.
When we underperform, GBV messaging becomes noise. When we step up, GBV messaging becomes power. Our role is threefold.
First, we must normalise the conversation, not
sensationalise or bury it.
GBV should appear in corporate reports, development communications, community dialogues, and digital content with the same strategic consistency as climate change, governance or economic inclusion.
When the public hears it often and not only during global commemorations, they begin to recognise it as an everyday accountability issue, not an episodic tragedy.
Second, we must push institutions beyond the routine statements that do not prevent violence. A pledge is not protection. A big walk or walkathon is not justice.
Our communications must force alignment between the words organisations publish and the systems they operate.
If we are not interrogating workplace policies, reporting pathways, survivor care practices and human resource culture, then we are simply polishing the façade instead of fixing the structure.
Third, we must humanise the narrative without exploiting survivors.
People disengage from statistics, but they respond to humanity. Ethical, survivor-centred, consent-driven storytelling is one of our most powerful tools.
Not to shock the public, but to anchor empathy, shift attitudes, and inspire collective responsibility.
The 16 Days of Activism are not the problem.
The problem is the mindset that communication begins on November 25 and expires on December 10.
Real influence is built in the off-season. Sustainable change comes from drip-feeding values, not dumping content in bulk.
Communicators need to challenge their organisations to invest in long-term behavioural insights, year-round engagement, multilingual messaging and digital-first strategies that capture the energy of young people who are not only the most active online but also the most vulnerable offline.
GBV is not waiting for campaigns. Survivors are not waiting for awareness weeks. Communities are not waiting for international commemorations. As communicators, neither should we.
If we want to drive mindset shift, embed prevention (not reaction), lift Malawi out of this cycle, we must stop communicating for the 16 Days and start communicating 24/7 for 365 days.
This is the moment for communicators to evolve from announcers of campaigns to architects of social change. Not seasonal technicians but strategic influencers.
Ending GBV is not a communications event. It is a communications responsibility.
Creating orderly and thriving communities is a shared responsibility.
