By Linda Gewerths

It has been about six years since I first moved to London. In hindsight, I was oblivious and somewhat naive to the dangers of simply existing as a woman out in public late at night – or even in broad daylight. When men would make remarks about my appearance – something that sadly was and still is a frequent occurrence – I would nonchalantly clap back, regardless of the situation or time of day. Eventually, after hearing endless stories through friends, Instagram, and the media of women like myself being caught in similar situations, but who had not been as lucky as me, I began contemplating whether my instinct to verbally defend myself from these catcalls was worth the potential unfair exchange for my safety. After too many instances of being harassed morning, noon, and night, in night clubs, the pub, and my workplace, I began to meticulously pick my battles. 

Women adopt many survival mechanisms in our day to day lives, but are these enough to keep us safe? We stay quiet. We look down at the asphalt, hoping that we’re not going to get followed, attacked, groped, or worse. This constant threat alone is exhausting; it takes up so much of our energy to always be on edge, to be constantly modifying our lives to reduce potential risks. As someone who has struggled with anxiety for many years, it can be extremely draining.

Mental health and women’s rights are two topics of great importance to me. I find it crucial to share how catcalling and harassment have affected and continue to affect me mentally. With that being said, these are only my personal accounts and, speaking from a white cis woman’s perspective, I cannot express somebody else’s experiences with catcalling or harassment. 

If you are a man reading this, ask yourself: do you ever need to think about what to wear before heading outside? Not within the normal means of, “How cold is it today?” or “Shall I wear my new trainers?”, but rather “Would I get r*ped, assaulted, or killed if I wear this? Do I look too provocative?” You probably don’t, and that is the epitome of male privilege.

For perspective, here is an example of a ‘normal’ day for me, pre-COVID-19: I’ve planned to go out to see my friends, something that is supposed to be an exciting event, only I’m late – I’m trying on about 20 different outfits just to make sure that I’m not only comfortable, but also that I’m not drawing too much unwanted attention to myself. Then, after almost an hour of constantly changing clothes, the panic attack comes. Before I know it, I’m drenched in sweat and tears. I just want to hide underneath the covers until it passes. I am disgusting; I am fat; I look like a whore; it will be my own fault if something bad happens to me. These thoughts racing through my head are a mixture of anxiety, insecurities, previous statements from people in my life, and comments from misogynistic trolls lurking online. They sting me one by one in a matter of seconds, like death by a thousand cuts.

After a long cry and gas-lighting myself for an hour, I usually put on whatever clothes are closest and then leave the house: somewhere between the panic attack and the sweat, I’ve realised that I know deep down that the fault is not mine. Danger exists everywhere. It should not keep me from living my life and it should not it hold me back from wearing what I want.

Once I’m outside, sometimes before even reaching the bus stop that is only a couple of minutes’ walk from my house, I am catcalled. There’s a shout, or every so often a whisper, as I pass. One time, there is a man masturbating publicly in my presence.

I am starting to feel sick again. My heart is beating so fast that it feels as though it will jump out of my chest. Am I dying, or is it another panic attack? I don’t even know at this point, I’m so exhausted mentally. Every word that is uttered in my direction hits me like a slap in the face. I want to go back to hiding underneath the covers, where no one can see me. If I can’t be seen, I can’t be hurt. Under those covers, my existence isn't considered a threat to somebody’s ego.

The journey of going to see my friends can be compared to climbing a mountain, so I reward myself with some laughter and alcohol when I finally arrive. When I’m about to part with them in the evening, we hug each other. Out of habit, we say “Text me when you are home”. This sentiment, although well-meaning, has a seriously concerning undertone. 

A walk to a friend’s house is something that should be normal, mundane even. But, for a twenty-something woman, every time before heading outside, she is scared. Every time she goes on a date, she is scared. Every time she goes onto the tube or into a taxi, she is scared. 

When women voice these issues, fears, and experiences, some people have the audacity to say, “not all men”. Of course, not everyone who is a man is a perpetrator of these things. You know that. I know that. There are so many beautiful and amazing souls out there who are men. There are men that I absolutely adore (although I feel that I shouldn’t have to explain that). So yes, not all men. But, due to the number of men committing crimes against women, women have no choice but to consider it to be all men so that we can protect ourselves from potential dangers. We don’t know which men are the good ones and which are bad, so we have to be cautious of all.

So, how do we change things for women? We need to teach our boys how to respect women as equals, and to not oppress us rather than telling girls to suppress themselves to be safe in the presence of the opposite sex. Men need to reflect on their behaviour, take responsibility, and listen to women when they speak up about their experiences. If you’re a man reading this: put in the work to unlearn toxic patterns you were taught when you were younger. If we want the world to be a better place, we need to learn not to repeat history. Remember, change starts with you.

As summer approaches, we are all getting ready to start a new chapter after a long year of COVID-19. If, when out in the sun, you ever see your friends disrespect women, slut-shame, victim blame, or catcall them, call them out for it. Sexual harassment harms all of us. Gender roles harm all of us. No one should have to be scared to go outside because of their gender, skin colour, or sexuality. No one should feel like they want to hide from the world because they fear getting hurt by a stranger.

Truly, I just want to wear a tank top and shorts in June without having a man yell “nice pussy” at me, thank you. I owe you nothing. So, check yourself and let me sweat in peace.