A Woman Once Said: “We Don’t Need Another Campaign. We Need Streetlights.

What struck me most about that moment was not the simplicity of her request, but the clarity behind it. Streetlights were not a metaphor. They were about safety, dignity, mobility, and visibility. They were about whether a woman could walk home after sunset without fear, whether children could play outside a little longer, whether public space belonged to everyone or only to those who could afford private solutions.

In development work, we often talk about “community needs,” yet we frequently translate them into concepts that are easier to measure, fund, and report. Awareness campaigns are tangible. They have deliverables. They fit neatly into logframes. Streetlights, on the other hand, require coordination, maintenance, budgeting, and political will. They are less glamorous, but far more transformative.

That conversation forced me to confront a hard truth: many well-intentioned governance and development initiatives fail not because of lack of expertise, but because of distance. Distance between decision-makers and daily life. Distance between strategy rooms and streets. Distance between what women say quietly and what institutions hear loudly.

Over the years, I’ve seen this pattern repeat itself across contexts. In municipal offices, staff work tirelessly to comply with donor requirements while juggling limited resources and shifting political priorities. In international programs, timelines and indicators often leave little space for pause, listening, or course correction. In workshops and consultations, women are invited to speak—but too often their input is filtered, summarized, or softened before it reaches those with decision-making power.

This is not a failure of individuals. It is a systemic habit.

Governance systems are designed to prioritize what can be standardized, scaled, and reported. Women’s everyday experiences, by contrast, are specific, contextual, and sometimes inconvenient. They don’t always translate easily into predefined categories. Yet these experiences are precisely where policy succeeds or fails.

What that woman asked for reminded me that effective governance begins not with solutions, but with the right questions. Not “How do we engage communities?” but “What makes life harder or safer today?” Not “How do we empower women?” but “What is currently limiting their movement, choices, or voice?”

This initiative—Street-Level Governance: Women Define What Matters—is my attempt to create space for those questions to surface clearly and honestly.

Over the next 90 days, I will listen to women across the Middle East and invite them to share one simple sentence: the one change that would most improve their daily lives. No surveys filled with jargon. No need to justify or explain. Just one priority, in their own words.

The purpose is not to collect stories for inspiration alone, but to identify patterns that are often missed in formal planning processes. When enough women speak, themes emerge. Safety. Mobility. Access to services. Public space. Time. Trust. These themes are not abstract—they are actionable.

I will synthesize these inputs into a short public brief that highlights common priorities and offers grounded recommendations for institutions, municipalities, universities, and development partners. The goal is not to criticize, but to realign—to bring planning closer to lived reality.

I am deeply aware that voices shared in this space must be treated with care. Privacy and respect will guide this initiative. I will not publish names or personal details. What matters is not who said what, but what we can learn collectively.

For me, this initiative is also a leadership practice.

Leadership, I have learned, is not only about designing frameworks or managing complexity. It is about making room for truths that challenge our assumptions. It is about being willing to admit that even our best plans can miss the mark. And it is about choosing to listen—especially when what we hear requires us to rethink our approach.

I do not believe that women’s voices should be an “input” added at the end of a process. They should shape the process from the beginning. When women define what matters, governance becomes more grounded, more humane, and ultimately more effective.

If you are a woman reading this—regardless of your role, country, or background—I invite you to contribute.

In one sentence: what is the one change that would improve your daily life the most?

Your answer does not need to be perfect. It just needs to be real.