So I went for a walk along the river today. In our city, we have a beautiful system of paths, closed to cars, that go along either side of a gorgeous stretch of the Willamette River. I was near a trailhead this morning and decided to take our new baby out for a walk.
We went, and while I enjoyed the exercise, and it was beautiful outside, I can't say it was an ideal experience. For me, it never is, because today, like many other days, I was a woman, alone, and vulnerable.
You see, although I've had my fair share of "run-of-the-mill" #metoo moments (workplace sexism, being approached far too aggressively in bars or getting catcalled), I was assaulted on this same bike path about 10 years ago. I will not describe what happened here, but will share my experience with you if you ask. An important detail is that I had to be encouraged to call the police at all, because I knew they couldn't do anything about it. And when they came to my house to take the report, those suspicions were confirmed, and the female officer could only give me advice on how to attempt to protect myself in the future.
So how did today's walk happen? Let's unpack what it takes for me, a fairly confident white woman in a very white town, to go for a 25 minute walk along the river in broad daylight. (And then I'd encourage us all to think about how much scarier it definitely is for women of color).
I started preparing for the walk last night. Decided I'd wear my red sweatshirt because it's bright - easily visible - and baggy, so it covers most of my body. Nothing skin tight or attractive. I considered packing my headphones, but no, I'd need to hear what is going on around me. Specifically, if someone were to come up behind me. I had to consider that potential situation last night.
I left from the parking lot of my daughter's school, and told 3 different people that we were going for a short walk. So people would know where we were, and expect to see us return in a short amount of time. I had to think about who might realize if something went wrong.
We went at 10am. Bright outside, and not so early that the folks who sleep along the river are just waking up - the reasons they are there are many, and I've witnessed many times how unpredictable people can be on that path. I had to think about what time would be safest.
As soon as we left, I chose the direction that had more people on it. Witnesses. Potential allies. As I walked, I scanned the path almost constantly, including looking over my shoulder to check behind me. I had to think about who else might help me... or potentially harm me.
I watched a man get up off of a park bench, pick up his backpack, and begin walking, slowly, a bit in front of me. Had he seen us? Of course he had. Ok, what do I do? We just got started walking, I don't want to turn around. But there's no one else around. Do I pass him? Do I hover behind him? What do I do when I do get around? I forget... am I supposed to make eye contact, or avoid it? I don't want to look him in the eye. I hate that I have to think about this. Why can't I just go for a walk and enjoy this path like anyone else? Ok, I'm just going to go around him... oh he looked over at us. I can't look, I'll walk a little faster... whew, we made it. I can breathe again. Ok, we're going to be ok.
You guys. This is how it went the entire 25 short minutes I was walking. The constant scanning. The fear every time we passed another man on the path. The quick glance of solidarity every time I made eye contact with another female.
It was infuriating.
Of course I don't believe that every man I pass on the street (or path) is out to get me. I live my life day to day without being threatened or assaulted. In general, I feel safe in my community, and that is a huge privilege I know I have. But I, and so many women I know, live with a base level of fear doing daily activities.
Keys in hand before leaving the store to the parking lot. Glancing over my shoulder everywhere I walk. Walking friends to their cars or into their houses or texting to make sure they got home safely.
And I'm tired. As women, collectively, we're tired.
And pissed off. It made me so angry today that what should've been a beautiful, enjoyable experience was so punctuated by the measures I take (we all take, because I know I'm not the only woman who does these things) to take what on the surface appears to just be a quick, 25 minute walk with my baby in a stroller.
Again, I acknowledge my whiteness, and it scares me to think what my friends of color experience compared to myself. Makes me consider how I can include making their safety a priority as we begin to sort through a lot of this as a society.
I will probably go for a walk again tomorrow. Along the same path. And I bet many of the other women I saw walking or jogging alone today will too. Because all the precautions are second nature to us. We do those things so we can be outside. And because we hope that one day, we won't have to.
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