As a former resident of Northampton, and someone who works
downtown Monday through Friday, I have spent many hours walking the
streets, frequenting all that our little city has to offer. As a cis-gendered female, my experience of living and working may be similar
or different from yours, but one thing that I have heard echoed from
other female-identifying individuals is the frequency of street
harassment and the feeling of a lack of safety while walking along the
streets alone.
I, and many others, do things to maintain our safety — like avoiding eye contact to not incite altercations or cat calls, walking quickly, wearing sunglasses so you can assess your environment for safety discreetly. Or even taking a different route to work frequently so that the person who takes notice of you and asks if you’re off to work or heading home at the beginning and end of the day doesn’t catch on to your routine. All of this, of course, is only amplified once the sun goes down.
Because, experiencing the world as a woman as I do, I live with the constant reality that my body is not my own, and that at any given moment, my safety and the security of my body could be compromised, taken advantage of, or harmed. And this doesn’t just mean physically. If someone has ever followed you down the street muttering sexual comments for two blocks, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up are enough of an indicator that you may be unsafe. And that feeling forms a memory in your body and stays there. So the next time someone is walking closely behind you — perhaps just because their pace is faster than yours — your body reacts.
All the ways in which I alter my behavior in attempts to maintain my safety come at a cost. And ultimately, they aren’t a guarantee. There isn’t a prescription for safety as a woman. We have all seen that reality every time we take a look at what’s happening in the news. I make decisions on a daily basis that cost me money, like going to the gym instead of running at night. And not being able to look others in the eye while I walk down the street means I don’t meet many strangers; I don’t form new relationships interacting in the community. Often, what we lose by maintaining our safety is true and loving connection. We guard our bodies, and by default, our hearts.
Earlier this year, I had the pleasure of connecting with Umoja Now for their 1 Billion Fathers Rising event in downtown Northampton — an event that linked organizations together to talk about prevention of domestic and sexual violence and engaging men and boys. The day was filled with speeches, songs, dance, poetry, laughs, music, and even tears as the community came together to support the work of ending violence against women.
As I looked around me, I saw a group of people all standing outside to be a part of a movement. A feeling flooded over me at that moment — a feeling of hope; a feeling that in this moment, I was truly safe. This group of people was a mass of allies — people who would not disrespect me, or endanger my body, mind or spirit. And I had this new-found, revolutionary experience of being able to let down my guard on a main street of Northampton. To breathe and be myself.
A second thought came over me just as I was settling into this wonderful bubble: If, at any point, someone came up to me in this very public place and engaged in behavior that made me feel unsafe — verbal harassment, physical inappropriateness, etc. — while I stood on this street with a group of strangers, I knew that these people would have said something, done something in that moment. The power in knowing that I was safe, and that others who would do whatever was in their power to keep me safe, was a revelation. And honestly, it almost brought me to tears in that moment.
That feeling is what I envision for all of us. That feeling could extend not only into public areas, but private homes and close relationships as well. This feeling that we can connect with others in every aspect of our lives in safe, enduring, and meaningful ways without fear of harm, abuse, or pain.
This is what sustains my work. This is what I work towards on a daily basis and what I hope you will join me in creating. We all have the ability to make our communities safe, loving, and revolutionary. It can start small, but every action brings us a step closer to extending that bubble I briefly stood inside. And I can’t stop working for this new vision of a world until everyone feels that feeling everywhere.
So, I invite you to join our efforts at Safe Passage by getting involved with Say Something — our new prevention initiative. Visit www.saysomethingnow to find out how you can “Learn, Act, and Be” to prevent interpersonal violence in our communities. Let’s work together to create a violence-free world for everyone.
I, and many others, do things to maintain our safety — like avoiding eye contact to not incite altercations or cat calls, walking quickly, wearing sunglasses so you can assess your environment for safety discreetly. Or even taking a different route to work frequently so that the person who takes notice of you and asks if you’re off to work or heading home at the beginning and end of the day doesn’t catch on to your routine. All of this, of course, is only amplified once the sun goes down.
Because, experiencing the world as a woman as I do, I live with the constant reality that my body is not my own, and that at any given moment, my safety and the security of my body could be compromised, taken advantage of, or harmed. And this doesn’t just mean physically. If someone has ever followed you down the street muttering sexual comments for two blocks, the hairs on the back of your neck standing up are enough of an indicator that you may be unsafe. And that feeling forms a memory in your body and stays there. So the next time someone is walking closely behind you — perhaps just because their pace is faster than yours — your body reacts.
All the ways in which I alter my behavior in attempts to maintain my safety come at a cost. And ultimately, they aren’t a guarantee. There isn’t a prescription for safety as a woman. We have all seen that reality every time we take a look at what’s happening in the news. I make decisions on a daily basis that cost me money, like going to the gym instead of running at night. And not being able to look others in the eye while I walk down the street means I don’t meet many strangers; I don’t form new relationships interacting in the community. Often, what we lose by maintaining our safety is true and loving connection. We guard our bodies, and by default, our hearts.
Earlier this year, I had the pleasure of connecting with Umoja Now for their 1 Billion Fathers Rising event in downtown Northampton — an event that linked organizations together to talk about prevention of domestic and sexual violence and engaging men and boys. The day was filled with speeches, songs, dance, poetry, laughs, music, and even tears as the community came together to support the work of ending violence against women.
As I looked around me, I saw a group of people all standing outside to be a part of a movement. A feeling flooded over me at that moment — a feeling of hope; a feeling that in this moment, I was truly safe. This group of people was a mass of allies — people who would not disrespect me, or endanger my body, mind or spirit. And I had this new-found, revolutionary experience of being able to let down my guard on a main street of Northampton. To breathe and be myself.
A second thought came over me just as I was settling into this wonderful bubble: If, at any point, someone came up to me in this very public place and engaged in behavior that made me feel unsafe — verbal harassment, physical inappropriateness, etc. — while I stood on this street with a group of strangers, I knew that these people would have said something, done something in that moment. The power in knowing that I was safe, and that others who would do whatever was in their power to keep me safe, was a revelation. And honestly, it almost brought me to tears in that moment.
That feeling is what I envision for all of us. That feeling could extend not only into public areas, but private homes and close relationships as well. This feeling that we can connect with others in every aspect of our lives in safe, enduring, and meaningful ways without fear of harm, abuse, or pain.
This is what sustains my work. This is what I work towards on a daily basis and what I hope you will join me in creating. We all have the ability to make our communities safe, loving, and revolutionary. It can start small, but every action brings us a step closer to extending that bubble I briefly stood inside. And I can’t stop working for this new vision of a world until everyone feels that feeling everywhere.
So, I invite you to join our efforts at Safe Passage by getting involved with Say Something — our new prevention initiative. Visit www.saysomethingnow to find out how you can “Learn, Act, and Be” to prevent interpersonal violence in our communities. Let’s work together to create a violence-free world for everyone.
Laura Penney is the Community Engagement Coordinator at Safe Passage and the project director of the Say Something Prevention Initiative.
No comments:
Post a Comment