The Price Of Making It Home
When I was 13, my mother and I got catcalled in the middle of the day on the walk to my grandmas. My mum told me to ignore it, just in case.
When I was 15, I was followed around a makeup shop by a man in a yellow high-vis vest. A health and safety vest. He cornered me by standing behind me against a makeup display. I got out while I could. When I reported it, I was told it would be passed on to the security team, just in case.
When I was 16, I’d either have my friend walk me home, or ask someone to pick me up from my college bus stop in winter so I didn’t have to walk alone in the dark. If I had to walk on my own, I’d run home. Just in case.
When I was 18, I was groped in a nightclub by a man four times my age. When I confronted him, he just smiled at me, and gestured to his two friends. I now make sure I walk home with a male friend I trust after dark, just in case.
When I was 19, alone on the train on my way home, a guy tried asking me where I lived and how old I was. I told him I didn’t want to talk, and he asked me why I was being a bitch. My dad picked me up from my stop, just in case.
I’m 20. I’ve been followed around Tesco. I’ve been propositioned by men twice my age. I’ve had Facebook friend requests from men who see me in their stores. I’ve seen women be kicked out of clubs for standing up against creepy guys. I’ve been catcalled on the way home. I’ve had my friends ring me on their way home from lunch. I’ve turned down creepy customers with a polite smile. I’ve shared news articles about things that have happened on my road.
And I’m one of the lucky ones.
I refuse to believe these things are something anyone should be shocked by, because I haven’t experienced anything that hasn’t been talked about before by millions of other women. We hear about it every day. We report it on Facebook pages. We read articles about it. We share pretty text designs on our stories. We have friends tell us about ‘that creepy guy on the bus’. 97% of women in the UK between the ages of 18–24 have been sexually harassed. Not to mention, things are so much worse for black women, trans women, disabled women, female-presenting non-binary people, and openly queer couples.
It’s not just walking home.
And we’re told to do the right thing. Walk under streetlights. Ring a friend. Have eyes at the back of your head. Keep your keys between your knuckles. Buy one of those pull-out keychain alarms. Shout ‘Fire!’, because that’s more effective. Don’t wear headphones. Change routes. Cross the road to avoid being catcalled. Change your clothes. Wear trainers. Put your Snapmaps on, but turn it off when you’re home; you don’t want someone seeing where you live. Don’t get a taxi; you might not make it home. Don’t use public transport; you might be followed. Don’t ignore him; he’ll get angry. If he follows you, take a detour so he doesn’t know where you live.
But I don’t think these aren’t the ‘right’ things.
Why is the ‘right thing’ to have women fear for their safety instead of teaching men to not do these things? Why is it seen as flattery when a guy whistles at you, or follows you off the bus? Why are we, as women, expected to have to take such extreme measures for personal safety?
We are pushed to perfect our looks to fit a standard of beauty pushed by the same people who follow us home for it.
As the opening to ‘Invisible Women’ by Caroline Criado Perez states, “Seeing men as the human default is fundamental to the structure of human society.” We live in a society built to benefit men; women are an ‘addition’ to this, as if we shouldn’t be counted into the equation in the first place.
We don’t need you to tell us that not all men do this. That makes us feel invalidated to fear something that has been ingrained into society for centuries; that is a norm to 97% of women in the UK. Enough men do this for 97% of women to have experienced sexual harassment, and not enough speak out about it.
A large amount of pornographic content is made based on sexual harassment; public groping, upskirting, spiking, and being followed home are just some of the scenarios portrayed in this. Regardless of whether this is scripted or not, it still perpetuates the idea that behaviour like this is fine; it normalises harassment and the precautions women have to take to avoid this. It’s not an indulgence into a fantasy; it’s portraying the reality of the violences that women fear every single day. In a research examining 50 of the most popular pornographic videos, 88% contained violence against women.
Schools, workplaces, supermarkets and streets aren’t safe. Where are we meant to go?
You might be one of the good ones. You might not see yourself as one of ‘those guys’. But what are you doing to make sure your friends aren’t? Do you have conversations about consent, or do you excuse exploitative behaviour with alcohol? Do you call out derogatory language, or do you let boys be boys? I don’t care if it’s hard or awkward to talk about; it’s harder to sleep with one eye open. It shouldn’t take someone mentioning a mother or a sister to make you care. Stop performing it on your social media, and start talking about it when you’re with your mates.
You can call out sexist jokes. You can read books. You can talk to women to learn more. You can follow campaigns, and actually sign the petitions you share online. You can read the comments on the posts you share, and listen when your friends speak to you about what they go through.
If we can’t approach the police when we feel unsafe, what’s left to do?
We can’t go on walks alone in the middle of a pandemic because we might be followed. Yes, in the middle of the day. Yes, it’s happened.
Young women can’t go to a park in fear of being sexually harassed with the excuse of a ‘political statement’. Yes, it’s happened.
When we hear of attacks happening around our local area, women are advised to stay indoors. What happens when they start peering through the windows? Yes, it’s happened.
It doesn’t matter what we do or what we wear. It’s all about getting home safely, and it doesn’t matter if we do everything ‘right’; some of us still don’t make it home. Sarah Everard isn’t the first, and she won’t be the last unless we stop allowing violence against women to be normalised in media, and start calling out normalised behaviours.
Women aren’t the ones who should be changing their behaviours. I’m sick of doing things just in case. If you’re going to crack jokes about sexual harassment with the boys, or are going to put yourself around people who do, then I don’t want you near me. I don’t want you near my friends, or my workplace, or my sister, or anyone. And I guarantee that I’m not the only one.
Sorry, just ensuring my personal safety.
