safety

It’s been nearly four months since I’ve gone on a walk by myself outside. I realized that just now, at 12:16 AM on an early Wednesday morning, after watching a video of a guy running around his neighborhood at night, laughing and having fun. 

I was really jealous of him. I used to run at night. I loved it. There’s something so peaceful about running in the dark, with only streetlights and the moon illuminating your path. I stopped doing that in college, which was probably a good idea. It’s probably not safe for anyone to run alone at night, regardless of gender. 

And up until this spring, I would go on runs outside in my neighborhood during the day, and walk my dogs. I would go on walks through my Florida subdivision, sweating bullets and practically swimming through the humid air, but it felt nice to move my body and breathe. 

So what changed? Why don’t you do that anyone? Just go outside. 

I guess I could. I could. I just don’t feel safe. 

This spring, while I was walking my dog in the middle of the afternoon, a boy came up to me. A boy. A child, probably only ten or eleven. I didn’t know him; I was a block from my house. He grabbed my butt, hard, and I froze, then yelled at him. He laughed and went to touch me more, and then I screamed. I went to knock on his door, and he ran inside, crying that I would tell his parents and he would get in trouble. I could hear his mom talking to him. She did not come open the door. I called the police. The officer was kind to me. I didn’t show him the bruise on my butt, and I didn’t cry. He asked me if I wanted to press charges, and I said no. My rationale was he was a little boy. It wasn’t his fault. I was also worried because he was a Black boy, and I knew the system would not be kind to him. So I just stopped going on walks at all. I only go with friends, or my family, or my husband. Even so, it’s kind of isolating, because I spend a lot of time alone, especially when I’m at home in quarantine and my husband is gone most of the day. 

Maybe you just need to move to a safer area, I think to myself. But then I remember, the private Christian college I went to, which was full of money and surrounded by houses bigger than anything I’ve ever stepped in before. It was my freshman year, my first week at college, and I went on a walk at 1 or 2 in the morning with two girls from my dorm. We walked off the edge of campus by these beautiful, huge homes with grand pianos in their windows. 4 men got out of their car in masks and charged us, trying to put us in their vehicle. They put their hands on us, and we screamed. We called 911; they fled. The officer told us it was probably a joke. He found one of the 4 men’s friends they had dropped off right before they decided to play that super funny joke on us and made him apologize. We walked back to our dorm, and my friend went to shower and change, as she had urinated on herself due to fear. 

I tell that story at parties, and people shake their heads. Crazy. But I wonder what would have happened if that instance had been taken seriously. What if I had decided to press charges either time? Would I have wound up in a courtroom, ever? Would any of the men who put their hands on me face any repercussions? 

I want to run outside and go on walks. I am 24, a perfectly average height and size, and I’m not very strong. Do I need to train as a kickboxer first? Or take another self defense class? Or have 911 on speed dial always? 

Or do I just need to suck it up? Cry about it. Ignore it and go on walks anyway, bravely, and expect someone to mess with me, and take it. Punch them? Carry a gun? I don't want to shoot someone. I just don't want my body to be touched.

It’s getting really hard to just take it. I don’t want to take it anymore. I never reported the people who sexually abused me when I was a child. I’ve been thinking about that a lot lately, especially once I learned that the statute of limitations in Illinois isn’t up for me. I could call the police right now and report the man who molested me in my grandpa’s bathroom when I was 5. Maybe a detective would go to his door, knock on it, and he would have to explain to his wife and daughters where he was going, and why he had to answer questions. And maybe I would report the other person, too, after that. 

But the thing that kills me is - what if nothing happens at all? 

I’m a strong woman. I survived childhood sexual abuse for years. I survived physical and emotional abuse for years. I survived anorexia. I can do amazing things. I help people every day. But there’s some things that make it really hard for me to sleep at night. What if the hurt - my suffering - isn’t accounted for, and it dissolved into some he said she said, and I can’t go into a courtroom again after the last time, where it nearly destroyed me. 

The first apartment my husband I moved to after we got married was actually graduate family housing. It was across the street from a small Mexican restaurant and next to an IHop. Behind us there were some really nice apartments. About a mile down the road was the campus of the University of Florida. There were signs posted all over our complex that said WOMEN DO NOT WALK ALONE AT NIGHT. I’d never seen that before. It was startling to me. I also had already learned that lesson. 

Nothing happened to me there. But near Christmas, a girl in the really nice apartments behind us, while working out in the apartment’s gym area, was sexually assaulted in a bathroom. A man walked up to the gym door and knocked, so she let him in, and he did that to her. On an unrelated note, we moved out of the complex to a tiny row house with cheaper rent. I remember thinking, maybe it would have been better if it were me. Because I know to expect that. I can’t imagine what it would be like to be unassuming, a young woman who's never been hurt before, and to have an attack happen after years of being safe. 

I remember thinking I was lucky my safety had been spoiled so early, when I was learning my ABC’s and how to hold scissors properly. 

Author's Note

I'm adding this note a few days later because I wanted to address why I wrote this post. I don't want people to step away from this thinking that it was a "poor me" statement, or for attention. It's not. Instead, I wanted to paint the picture of a lack of safety for females, and the rampant sexual abuse 1 in 5 women will encounter in their lifetimes. I just wanted people to realize, if they have not yet, that in many places in America, even if it's not your neighborhood necessarily, people don't feel safe to walk outside alone, even in the day time, let alone in the evening or at night, or even with a group of people. And sometimes even after calling for help, nothing happens, or it's disregarded or not taken seriously, and that that hurts people.

Also, lack of safety while walking is not exclusive to cisgender females; it extends beyond that for sure. I just wanted to highlight my experiences. I'd love to hear yours.

Much love always,

gabbie