There are few moments in my life when I wish to be a man, but getting home at night is one of them. No matter how often I come home from a night out or even just from college, I will never feel at ease. All forms of transportation offer their own risks, and with these risks come different types of worries and precautions. The constant glancing over the shoulder when walking to make sure you’re not being followed. Sitting in the first carriage beside the driver’s door on the train on the off chance they might be able to help you. The silent prayers that no one will approach you at the bus stop or follow you home once you get off. Pictures of the taxi licence plate sent to family and friends. And the polite conversation with the driver in the hopes that they will drop you at home safely and nothing else. But even with all of this, our safety is never guaranteed, and I dread the task of making my way home every time I leave the house.
I anonymously contacted a handful of young women, asking them questions in relation to which transport they used and whether they felt the men around them were aware of the concerns they faced when returning home at night. A few of the girls said they chose to take taxis over other forms of transport because of past experiences or feeling it was the best option among the worst.
One respondee explained how, on multiple occasions, when she had taken the bus, random men would sit beside her and talk to her, refusing to leave her alone even when she’d lie and say she was underage. Another respondee stated that her only other option was walking, and she felt that she would be attacked when doing so. However, she also mentioned that taking a taxi was only the lesser of two evils, and she described herself as “completely defenceless” when in one. “It feels like there’s no safe way to get home.”
All forms of transportation offer their own risks, and with these risks come different types of worries and precautions
In relation to the vague awareness men seem to possess, some women recalled situations when their male family members and friends have left them alone at social events, refused to walk them to their bus stops or haven’t checked to see if they had a way home at all. The young women did not think this was malicious but did believe it was a result of complete ignorance and a lack of awareness of the dangers that women face alone at night. One respondee pointed out that it seemed to her that men “don’t even realise they need to care”, which seemed to be a shared view across multiple respondents.
A situation I found myself in recently while in my hometown was that when I came back from nights out, my brother would have stayed up until I came home safe. What stuck out to me was when I mentioned this to a few of my male friends, they reacted with ideas such as, “well of course he does, you’re his sister.” Yet when I brought up the fact that they have never asked if I get home safely after nights out, it changed tunes and pivoted the entire conversation. The few responses I got were on the idea that obviously I would get home safe – that they didn’t feel the need to worry. It made me vastly aware of how women have to be a sister, or a daughter, or a niece, or something to someone in many people’s eyes, in order for them to facilitate concern or care in someone.
Many nights, I’ve been out and come across a man who has shown little to no knowledge of the worries and concerns women have around getting home safely: “Why don’t you just walk?” or “Why waste money on a taxi?”. The jealousy I feel at the bafflement of these men is something I’ll never let go of because, to be quite frank, it’s not fair. If I woke up the next morning and was offered one wish, I’d wish for protection. The thought of walking alone at night, my earphones in, music blaring, my eyes focused on the bright stars dotted along the sky, is a beautiful one. My hands aren’t shaking, my head isn’t turned to look behind me and my heartbeat isn’t racing with fear and panic. A beautiful dream, and one I doubt I’ll ever get to experience.
In places such as Japan, Brazil, Egypt and India, they have carriages and compartments reserved for only women to combat sexual harassment on trains
But some people can – some men can – and I shamelessly hate them for it. Not all men are like this, however: a considerable number of men are well aware of what we face, and they do their part in trying to help us with these worries. I have many male friends who offer to accompany me when walking alone at night and who text to make sure that I’ve gotten home safe. I’m incredibly thankful to them, but the same cannot be said for all men, so the issue lives on, its lifespan neverending. To put things into perspective, if a percentage of doctors had a reputation for not properly taking care of their patients, there wouldn’t be ridicule towards people fearing going to a hospital for treatment. Yet there is ridicule and a stigma towards women who are just trying to go home without experiencing harassment or assault.
Within the last month, the verdict of a sexual assault case was released to the public. The case centred around a male taxi driver who was accused of raping a young woman in the back of his car after picking her up in the centre of Dublin. The court has released him on bail, with the “strict” terms of bail including staying out of the specific neighbourhood of the victim. His licence to be a taxi driver was also revoked. A member of the Gardaí expressed concerns in relation to this verdict, explaining that he felt that the man was a danger to all women and may commit serious offences if granted bail.
I first heard of this case when my dad mentioned it to me at dinner as I had earlier said that I would be getting a taxi home that night. The retelling of the case was a cautionary one, intent on keeping me on my toes in the hopes of keeping me safe. But it made me feel sick. I remember my legs and hands shaking, and my appetite vanishing immediately. I have never felt so afraid in a taxi as I did that night. My eyes had been constantly glued to the driver’s GPS, making sure we were on route, with my hand resting on the handle of the passenger door.
It made me vastly aware of how women have to be a sister, or a daughter, or a niece, or something to someone in many people’s eyes, in order for them to facilitate concern or care in someone
The first thing I do when I reach my front door after travelling home at night is let out a sigh of relief. I feel accomplished that I’ve completed the trip safely. I feel proud. We should all feel proud, because it’s not an easy task. For a lot of us, it’s absolutely terrifying. But why do we need to feel pride over no one assaulting us on our way home? Do men feel proud when they get home after a night out?
As someone who takes the train to and from town for college and nights out, there’s a concept that I’ve seen on social media in other countries that I’d love to see implemented here. This is the concept of the women-only carriage. In places such as Japan, Brazil, Egypt and India, they have carriages and compartments reserved for only women to combat sexual harassment on trains. Mexico and Malaysia offer women-only buses and taxis, with Malaysia going as far as having women-only trains. I understand the cost involved in enforcing such security measures, but I still strongly believe that this concept is something the Irish government should take into consideration for implementing in the future.
When I brought up the fact that they have never asked if I get home safely after nights out, it changed tunes and pivoted the entire conversation
And yet, all these precautions only go so far. No matter how much women plan ahead and stay alert, our safety is never fully guaranteed. We can’t control the thoughts and actions of others. We can’t tell who may or may not cause us harm. For the most part, all we can do is hope, and be brave. Women are brave every single day, and they should be acknowledged for that. We live in a male-dominated society, and our issues and safety are overlooked. More and more needs to be done, to be said and the issues need to be continuously raised until they’re no longer issues.
However, it shouldn’t just be up to us to do this. It is not our issue. It is the attacker’s, the assaulter’s, who we may be most affected by, but it is not caused by us. Women should never be to blame for being a victim, no matter where they are or what they’re wearing. It is not women who need to improve – who need to change. It is those who rape, assault and prey on others, and it is the system that allows us all to be faced with these people in our daily lives, like we are game to rapists or to the male dominance in our communities. This needs to change. But when will these changes let us walk home safely?
