Content advisory: Sexual violence, assault
In the fall of my freshman year of college, a fear was instilled in me that I have yet to shake as a grad student. It was when a tall man holding a large black briefcase came to one of my sorority meetings and said, “Look around at all of your new sisters. Not all of them will survive the next four years of college.” He then unveiled the pink tasers and cans of pepper spray that he’d brought for us to purchase. As the salesman proceeded to list off terrifying statistics of the number of college-aged women who get sexually assaulted and/or killed every year, a chill went down my spine. I couldn’t help but wonder if it would be me or one of my new friends who wouldn’t live to walk across the graduation stage.
Despite my trepidation, I didn’t buy what he was selling. I thought nothing bad could ever actually happen to me. Surely, someone was going to the fraternity houses, too, teaching the men how to treat women respectfully.
I couldn’t have been more wrong or naive. I quickly learned that being a woman also means living in fear. Two years before I arrived on campus, a fraternity displayed a banner at a party that read: “No means yes, yes means anal.” Although that frat’s horrifying behavior resulted in their removal from campus, the actions of the remaining brotherhoods were no different. I tried to always stay with my group of girls, keep an eye on our drinks and not wear outfits that would draw attention. All I wanted was to have fun, but any time I’d fail to do any one of those things, something would end up happening to me or one of my friends. Let’s just say that 85,000 women get raped every year and sadly, in 2016, I became part of the 90% that knew (and trusted) their perpetrator.
Needless to say, I dropped my sorority and rarely went out after dark — even to the library. The pepper spray salesman was right. I needed to be more afraid. Ironically, I was out of my parents’ house but still living under a curfew. English journalist Caitlin Moran accurately compares this feeling to being put inside of a cage when the sun goes down. She said, “A young woman, out at night, on her own, is a potential future tragedy.”
Just last month, on March 3, 33-year-old Sarah Everard was walking home on the streets of London after 9 p.m. She was then kidnapped and murdered by a man, who, disturbingly, was a policeman. On March 10, her remains were found in a builder’s bag.
Moran explains that tragedies like this are why women fear men: “We know if you decide to kill us, there’s not much we can do. Every time the murder of a woman is reported on the news, we hear the detail, ‘Traces of skin were found under her fingernails, denoting a struggle’ — and we know…that’s all we can do. Scratch.”
What happened to Everard is terrifying, but not surprising. It’s what women prepare for whenever we go outside, even during the day. Once, while walking across campus in broad daylight, a man I didn’t know took my phone out of my hands, called his number so that he’d have mine and threw my phone back in my direction. By the time I got to the library, he’d sent me an inappropriate photo.
Another frightening incident took place at a movie theater when I went to an afternoon showing by myself. There was no one else in the theater except for me and the waiter who came in to take my order. I remember thinking he was nice when he told me he liked my smile. I thought he was generous when he brought me food I didn’t order. But when he sat down next to me and grabbed my leg, I froze in fear. Just because I’m a woman and I’m alone doesn’t mean I want to be bothered. Much less touched. Afterwards, I criticized myself for what happened, regretting my acceptance of the free popcorn.
Those situations aren’t uncommon. A recent United Nations study found that 97% of women ages 18 to 24 have experienced sexual harassment in public. Any form of sexual harassment or abuse is violating. When I was little, movie theaters were my happy place. Now, I’m haunted by them. Unfortunately, it’s taken experiences of everyday sexual harassment, as well as what I went through my freshman year, to make me aware of what men are capable of. But being aware doesn’t mean I feel safe. I don’t know if I’ll ever have the privilege of walking alone and not feeling scared of what’s around the corner.