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I thought about calling the police last night. Then what? Waiting for them to come find me in the street while I stood with my aggressors? Or scared the aggressors away with the threat of police and then spent the night trying to give detailed descriptions of two men I’d barely looked at in my desperation to evade them? It seemed nonsensical to call for the assistance of the law, especially when there would have been little or nothing that a police officer could have done for me, given the intangible nature of the attack.

Why did I feel so powerless? Why should I have to feel so powerless? Why do I see no recourse to actual action when I’m put in such a vulnerable position?

It’s something that happens every day. Men threaten women in the public places regularly, and that’s not to say all men are culprits, but there is a prevailing culture that says it’s OK to speak as long as you don’t touch. I’m telling you it’s not OK. It’s not OK that I’m now afraid to walk in the streets that separate my house from the train station. It’s not OK that strangers, completely uninvited, made me feel unsafe in an environment that should be a safe place for all. It’s not OK that my womanhood was used against me in such a way as to make me feel weak and inferior. It’s not OK that my heart is still beating at a rapid pace and that I’m now struggling with this new anxiety.

So what can we do? Honestly, I don’t know; what I do know is that there needs to be a shift in attitudes. We need to look out for each other, men and women alike. Everyone reserves the right to go about their lives undisturbed. Everyone deserves the right to enjoy a level of bodily and emotional security that should not be subject to the whim of others and their selfish actions. Everyone, no matter what they look like, where they walk, or what they do, is precious, and should be treated as such. No one should ever be interfered with against their will.

I know I’m going to go back outside, maybe even today (I couldn’t even bring myself to go get a coffee this morning, my hands shook at the very thought of leaving the house), because I don’t like to let other people win. I’m the one who gets to win. But what if I couldn’t? What if I was so broken by the threatening behaviour on my doorstep that it affected my whole life, as I’m sure it has affected the lives of others? I feel so emotional right now, like an area of my life that I was comfortable in has forever been tainted, because I feel entirely vulnerable and at risk. I know that I’ll never walk alone down that street again, even though it’s not a bad street, or a street where anything untoward has ever happened before, in the six odd months I’ve been walking down it. It’s absurdity at it’s best; the familiar has now become the stuff of nightmares.