(Trigger warning for this article)
The issue of women's safety has forever been a talking point throughout history. It has become more and more common for women to share similar stories of violence perpetuated against them by men. Stories where women have been scared for their life walking alone at night. Shared stories of sexual and domestic violence are all too common, and I know that most of the women in my life have experienced some form of violence at the hands of a man.
This is not a campaign against men, but I can't deny that I'm not angry with men. I am angry with men when their first response to hearing the tragedy of a women missing and potentially dead is that they understand the pain, because they are fathers. Through internalising and making the narrative about themselves, these men have dismissed the feelings of women around the country who are reading the bombarding news and are reliving some of the scariest times of their lives.
I am angry that the idea of "teach your sons not to attack women" enables a blame culture which encourages misogyny. It is not women's responsibility to teach men and boys to behave in order to keep women safe. It is up to other men and fathers and society. I am tired of being expected to educate men and boys on how to behave as decent human beings.
I am angry that some of the first questions to be asked about Sarah Everard's disappearance is "what was she doing out so late at night?" She was out before 12am, she was wearing bright clothes, she wore sensible shoes, she called her boyfriend. She did everything we are taught to do. It does not matter what time women are out, because in reality it was never a factor in our safety in the first place. If a man wants to attack us, he will.
I am angry that me and a friend were forced to hide in a carpark after a group of men we met in a club that night spotted us, turned around at a set of lights to go back to scare us, followed us into the carpark, and whilst we huddled together, trying not to breath, trying to make ourselves as small as possible as to not be seen, got out of their car and waited for us. I am angry that we had to fall asleep holding hands that night, to comfort each other, to realise we were safe. I am angry that I thought I was going to die, and I thought it was all my fault because I was out late after drinking. I am angry that I blamed myself for weeks afterwards, unable to sleep at night from reliving those moments over and over again in my head.
I am angry that we are advised to take self defence classes, hold our keys between our fingers, take a longer route home, cross the street, keep our heads down, don't wear earphones, stay inside when it's dark.
When will we feel safe at night?
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