Keep Calm and Be Vigilant is already a subconscious motto for many women. Photo: golfcphoto.
I was walking along a main street from university to my college campus in the early afternoon when a pack of young boys started following me.
They were aged about 12 to 14, in their school uniforms, and they were yelling things I’ve since blocked out. But I still remember my fear. And my rage.
I wanted to run, but I was weighed down by a backpack full of textbooks. I wanted to turn around and tell them to f**k off, to ask them who had taught them to speak to a woman as if she was there for their entertainment, to scurry off home.
But if I did that, and their taunts turned physical, I could imagine the response from others: Why did you provoke them? Why did you walk? Why were you by yourself?
What were you thinking?
The conversation around what women “should” be doing to keep themselves safe in public has been re-ignited after a woman was allegedly grabbed from behind, assaulted and choked unconscious by a 15-year-old boy while she was running along a popular trail in Canberra’s north.
It’s the second reported incident of a woman being allegedly assaulted while running in a Canberra nature reserve this year. A woman was grabbed from behind by a man while in the Tuggeranong Nature Reserve in March. No arrests have been made.
Police stated that Canberra is a safe city and that people should enjoy the open spaces and running tracks available to them, “But remain vigilant”.
Personally, I felt that was a pretty measured response, telling everyone to remain vigilant (not just women) and use common sense.
But here’s the message I think is lacking: Hey everyone (not just men, not just boys) … how about we not attack each other?
Now, you’d think that would be implied, but I’ll repeat it louder for the people in the back just in case it isn’t: Hey everyone (not just men, not just boys) … how about we not attack each other?
The vigilance conversation also ignores the basic fact that we are already being vigilant.
When I’m loading my kids into the car, I make sure my keys aren’t in the ignition, my bag isn’t in view, and the other doors are locked.
When I’m walking down the street, I keep my eyes up, scanning, phone in hand. I always let someone know where I am, when I’m leaving, when I should be arriving.
Despite this vigilance, things keep happening. I’ve been followed onto a bus, and I’ve been grabbed in a shopping centre.
I’ve always been safe in my own home, but it is the most likely place where a woman will experience violence.
I don’t want my daughter to be afraid when she leaves home, but I will be teaching her about common sense, just as I’ll be teaching my boys about common sense.
I’ll also be teaching all of them about respect – for themselves, for the people around them. They shouldn’t have to go “what if it was my sister? What if it was me?” to have basic empathy for other human beings.
Where does the education need to be focused? Do we need mandatory respect seminars in our schools and universities? What about support for people who have grown up without appropriate role models and examples of how to treat someone with respect?
Is it up to the community to conduct more awareness campaigns, such as runs, marches, and sit-ins?
Is it up to the governments and judicial systems to put in place more stringent deterrents (and actually enforce them)?
It’s a complicated problem, but more vigilance is not the answer.
It’s 2025, for God’s sake.
