Thursday 10-02-2022 - 10:16

 

Trigger Warning: Talk of Sexual Assault, Violence against Women

 

As a child, I wore beautiful bright yellow dresses and my hair in ridiculous pigtails. There was no fear, no worry of what was to come. My mum allowed me to decorate my body in whichever clothes felt best. Soon, memories of this started to slip away.

 

As I got older, this peculiar dress sense didn’t seem to change. I was confident and proud of exactly who I was - fearless and entirely carefree. Once I hit age 10, it was harder to ignore the sly comments and strange glances. It was around then that I started to dress how I was expected to. Like my sister who was always polite and poised.

 

I was 13 when I was catcalled for the first time. I remember it so clearly. The air was cold, it whipped my hair back from my face. My cheeks rosy and eyes watering, I took confident steps across the bridge I’d walked over a thousand times before. A stark white van came flying past and when the passenger started shouting, I didn’t even register he was shouting at me. My silence angered him so much he threw a glass bottle out of the window at me. I still consider myself lucky.

 

A year later, a man put his hands on me without my permission for the first time. My nervous laughter died in the back of my throat at the look in his eyes. A part of my soul died too. It was dark and the street was empty. I still haven’t been able to tell anyone what happened to me. I re-wrote this paragraph so many times and not once did the writer in me know how to describe the soul-shattering feeling of losing a flame of your fire that will somehow never burn as brightly again.

 

When I decided I needed to write this essay, I Googled: “is it safe for women to walk?”. I was expecting huge studies and reports about why women feel unsafe and what can be done to rectify this. I sat in front of my laptop screen as the page loaded, praying that there would be at least one piece written about how we can educate the perpetrators to prevent these incidents and attacks from happening. Of course, this was not the case. Instead, I was met with more questions. Are women safe to walk alone? How can women walk alone safely? Is it safe to walk by yourself? How can women be safe? One particular article by the Instructables wrote a comprehensive list of the steps women should be putting in place to avoid being a target. Some of the points they included were: walk with a buddy; stay near well-lit places; if you feel uneasy about where you’re parked drive and keep moving; no phones/headphones; scan the area around you; your hands should always be available to defend yourself; walk with purpose; look for an open establishment to hide in; be vocal; know self-defence; and my personal favourite – assailants go for the weak so be strong.

 

Not only do women largely already follow these steps but they don’t actually address the crux of the issue. No matter what we do, women have to endure this pain and suffering – we are expected to. For two weeks in October 2021, I wrote down every time a man harassed me in the street. I follow all the steps. I don’t walk alone or in the dark, I never wear headphones, I know basic self-defence and I do everything in my power to go under the radar. And yet, on Bold Street in Liverpool, a man still shouted at me down about how big my breasts were. Ten minutes later, on Ranelagh Street, a different man told me I was ugly. I had not said anything to him, I didn’t even realise he was there, but he felt the need to say that to me. I was walking to meet a friend the day before Halloween and two much older men shouted at me from outside of a bar.

 

I didn’t know what to say, nor did I want to say anything, so I just stayed quiet. I kept looking over my shoulder the rest of the way there expecting to see them behind me. At 08:30 the following Wednesday, I was walking to university. Construction workers beeped as they were going past. I was not alone. In fact, I was walking with a male classmate. How are we to feel safe when the good men we stumble across are not enough of a deterrent? These events were not the only ones that occurred in those two weeks.

At university, we are taught about walking. How all writers walk to inspire themselves and observe their surroundings. This is often immediately followed by a lecturer telling us to be safe… but only making eye contact with the women in the room as they do. We are expected to write about the places we inhabit, how land and landscape spark thought and idea and yet, we are unable to move through space the same way men can. Many of the other essays I have read on not only my creative writing degree are written by women. However, they tend to use nature in metaphor rather than a physical journey, whereas male writers have access to the world in a way that women don’t. How can we move through the world in fear? How many opportunities and experiences will we have to miss? How many times can I be harassed before that fire in my soul burns out completely?

 

49% of women feel unsafe walking alone at night, of almost half of the people who took part in the national statistics survey. I did my own research. I asked my friends and family: “what fears do you have while walking?”.

 

Six out of 10 women I spoke to were afraid of being followed. I heard each one as they gave an account of how it felt and when it happened. It further solidified the worry and fear that women feel daily. It’s scary to think that those without a story like this are in the minority. Or perhaps just don’t feel the same fear because they don’t walk alone at all.

 

Four out of 10 women said they felt more fear in the dark. I feel the same way. When I walk in the dark, I am extra aware of my surroundings. Looking for open shops and bars to hide in if I need help, each sound is like another knife to the chest. From footsteps to low talking, to the wind blowing. The gut-wrenching feeling running through my head: “tonight is the night it happens”, the night I get grabbed or harassed and I don’t get to text my friends that I’m home safe. On the nights I leave the library late I almost always get the bus halfway home. It feels safer and warmer than the unforgiving concrete between the safety of the library and the safety of my house. From the bus stop, I avoid the shortcuts I take in the day in favour of the brightly lit town centre but that is a risk.  Whilst the streetlights guide me and aid my view of my surroundings, I’m more likely to run into someone on the busier streets. I suppose it’s just luck of the draw. No matter how much we prepare can we ever walk without fear?

 

In November 2021, the University of Lincoln organised a “Reclaiming the Night” march. This was an opportunity for women to stand up together against the frequent injustice they receive at the hands of the patriarchy, and law enforcement. Ellie Watts, a young woman in attendance of this march wrote in her blog, The Muslimah, about her experience. She said: “everywhere we look we can see the lazy attempts of ‘protecting’ women.” She is completely right. Nothing is actually being done to protect women. Instead, we are expected to protect ourselves in the face of violence. Like many women, Ellie Watts believes the responsibilities of men needs to “stop being placed on women”. Why should we be held accountable for the actions displayed against us? This is a war on women with no hope of reconciliation. When I have this conversation with the people in my life, the devil’s advocate is almost always played like some kind of poisonous magic trick: “aren’t men afraid in the streets too?” My answer to this is clear and simple. Men are afraid of other men. Not women. But the men being attacked by other men are less likely to be attacked due to sexual motives. 

 

Nadia Whittome, MP for Nottingham East, took to Twitter to show the world how terrifying and devastating the violence against women is. She wrote: “The last five years saw 800 allegations of domestic abuse against officers & 52% found guilty of sexual misconduct kept their jobs.” If the police are not capable of protecting us, then who is? How do we know who to trust when perpetrators can hide anywhere? Sarah Everard trusted the officer who arrested her while she was walking alone. She was kidnapped, raped, and murdered. Perhaps we have to rely on luck; I should feel grateful that the harassment I have endured has not been as bad as the experiences of other women. But I don’t feel lucky. I feel like part of my soul has died each time a man takes it a step too far. My heart stops when I hear footsteps behind me. Endless possibilities. All bad.

 

I no longer wear highlighter-yellow dresses or tie my hair in pigtails. That childhood innocence taken from me, and so many others, far too early. I miss it. More must be done to hold men accountable for their violence against us. It’s not all men, just too many. For those that say they are not part of the problem but stand by and watch their friends and family display this behaviour… you are part of the problem. The threat of violence or harm facing women restricts them and becomes another factor in all their decisions. This is what prevents women from feeling safe when they are walking. Do more. We all have to. The alternative is much worse.

 

How can I forgive myself for doing

Nothing in the face of trauma?

Is silence not an act of violence too?

Blythe Baird, Pocket-Sized Feminism, 2016

 

Edge Hill Students' Union staff have received sexual assault and sexual violence reporting, disclosure and awareness training from RASA Merseyside. If you have been affected by sexual assault or sexual violence, our Advice Centre provides a safe, confidential and independent reporting service. If you require immediate support, contact Campus Support 24/7 on 01695 584227 / text 07785 928911.