6 Months Later: Can Women Go Out At Night Yet?

March 2021 news headlines put the spotlight on the fact sexual violence has become a normalized and expected experience for women. A report by UN Women UK found that 86% of women ages 18-24 have been sexually harassed, while Sarah Everard’s murder reminded us of the worst case scenario.

6 months later, what is being done to make things safer for women?

Is it safe for us to go out at night yet?

March 10th, 2021 was a challenging day.

The flowers gifted just two days before on International Women’s Day didn’t even start to wither; but the illusion of a women-loving world has.

71% of all women, and 86% of women ages 18-24 have experienced sexual harassment in public.

Women exchanged tired looks; the non-verbal mutual understanding that made saying “me too” out loud redundant. Sexual violence has been our reality for so long, some of us have accepted it as an unavoidable facet of the femme experience. The imminent threat of sexual harassment and
assault has taken over, dictating what we wear, where we go, when we go. The ever present fear
has been controlling me for so long, I don’t remember what it was like without it; which is why
it’s so hard for me to understand how anyone could be surprised by these numbers.

Of course, cis-het men loudly expressed their disbelief. Their beloved statistics suddenly weren’t
convincing enough. ‘Not all men’, voices kept echoing. I am not sure why anyone thought it was
relevant, or important. Their best argument seems to be that since they do not consider
themselves predators, women must be exaggerating. There is no sense of responsibility for behaviours that enable sexual and gender-based violence, such as laughing at their friends’ slut- shaming jokes, or looking away when their friend is groping and getting that underage girl drunk. There is no recognition of the fact that not all men need to be sexual predators for all women to experience sexual violence. There is no awareness of how seemingly small comments and acts contribute to the culture that makes men feel entitled to women’s bodies.

I am so tired of having to convince people that sexual and gender-based violence is an issue. It
seems that the only way some will believe individuals impacted by sexual violence is if they get
to see us as victims. They demand we relive our trauma for the sake of the story; they want to witness what is happening to us, and decide for themselves whether or not we “asked for it” or if it was “bad enough”.

‘The body of Sarah Everard has been found’ media headlines chimed in again, before I even got a
chance to catch a breath after the UN Women report, ‘she was raped and killed by a policeman
when walking home at night’.

I hope, at least, no one asks why women do not report. Yet, another reason why official sexual
violence statisics are always unreliable is that they vastly underrepresent the reality. Police, and
the Criminal Justice System at large are massive barriers in pursuing ‘justice’, as defined by our
current legal system. The systems are paradoxically set up in a way that protects the perpetrators, especially the rich and powerful. In order to be able to ‘prove’ rape in court, survivors need to have DNA evidence, which is something they have to consider right after going through a traumatic experience. The process of getting an evidence kit from a hospital can be retraumatizing iself, leaving alone dealing with the police who are not properly trained in how to
respond to disclosure and support individuals who experiences sexual violence.

For more context, the barriers to reporting are reflected in some official statistics. In Canada,
only 5% of the “most serious incidents of sexual assault” get reported to the police. Out of the
5% reported to the police, only 21% make it to court within 6 years. Out of those, only 42%
result in a guilty verdict. This means that a mere 1% of most serious sexual assault cases make it to court, and 0.44% lead to a conviction. The numbers are obviously stacked against us.

Knowing your chances, would you take them?

For more context, the barriers to reporting are reflected in some official statistics. In Canada, only 5% of the “most serious incidents of sexual assault” get reported to the police. Out of the 5% reported to the police, only 21% make it to court within 6 years. Out of those, only 42% result in a guilty verdict. This means that a mere 1% of most serious sexual assault cases make it to court, and 0.44% lead to a conviction. The numbers are obviously stacked against us.

Knowing your chances, would you take them?

In addition, in many cases (as in Sarah’s), those in positions of power, allegedly meant to protect
us, are the ones enacting the violence themselves. It reinforces the general distrust many women
and those of marginalized genders rightfully have for the legal system and authorities, as time
and time they have been weaponized to oppress us and protect the patriarchal status quo. Why
would we entrust the system that repeatedly fails and abuses us? Whether or not to report is a big decision, and it is the individual’s choice alone to make.

As painful and upsetting as March news headlines were, they did manage to raise awareness of
the prevalence of sexual and gender-based violence. Similarly to other social injustices brought
to the spotlight during the pandemic, the issue gained media momentum. Social media was
temporarily flooded with women sharing their experiences, and demanding better.

Echoing the beginnings of the #MeToo movement 5 years earlier, what has remained a topic of
whisper networks in the past, was finally being said out loud.

We finally had data to back what we always knew. Although the whole idea of quantifying sexual
and gender-based violence is problematic, data can help us convince those who deny the
prevalence of the issue. It can also be a starting point when lobbying for new initiatives and
programming.

The UN Women study demonstrates that pretty much all women experience sexual harassment.
Sarah Everard’s murder reminds us of the worst case scenario. But rather than letting it reinforce
our fears, force us indoors, dictate what we wear and ‘being more careful’ in futile efforts to
avoid being sexually harassed and assaulted, we have to push for societal and cultural change
and focus on preventing it instead. If there is one takeaway, it is that women cannot avoid sexual
violence. We already do so much trying to avoid being assaulted, but as long as we’re not
focusing on the perpetrators, and the culture that enables them, we’re not really addressing the
problem.

Women are not the ones who need to change. It’s society. And it’s men.

In the following weeks, I heard organizations and institutions promise they will take women’s
safety seriously. I witnessed relentless advocacy and organizing by activists and educators. I had
countless conversations with my friends and others impacted by sexual violence. Supported and
validated by those connections, I was able to finally recognize and process some of my past
experiences. I was able to say out loud some of the things I have been silently carrying around
for years.

I have listened, I have learned, I have spoken out, I have grown. But what about the ones with
power to change things? Have they listened? Have they learned?

Almost six months later, what has been done? As we are returning to in-person events and large
gatherings, what changes are being implemented to make those safe from sexual harassment and
assault? Are festivals and concerts going to feel safe anytime soon? Can we ever let our guard
down and just have a good time?

Staying in the UK, we are seeing new initiatives in the music industry. A 2018 UK survey by
YouGov showed that 40% of women under 40 report experiencing sexual harassment at public
live music events. The numbers are likely underreported, given the amount of gaslighting and victim-shaming women experience that invalidates them.

In response, and in preparation for in- person music events, UN Women UK has launched Safe Spaces Now. It is a new initiative meant to combat harassment and create safe spaces for women and marginalized groups at festivals and live music events. The initiative will be piloted during the Strawberries & Creem event in Cambridge next month. It will include safer routes out of toilets and venues, training volunteers and staff on recognizing and responding to potential abuse, as well as partnering with local taxi companies to make sure people get home safe.

Another creative way of combatting sexual harassment through trying to change the culture and men’s behaviour are poster campaigns. A recent one, Change The Lineup, aims to raise awareness of sexual harassment at clubs.

What is cool about this approach is the potential to grab attention and reach people through their eye-catching designs, such as this campaign’s colourful
90’s rave flyers aesthetics. They force event attendees to think about their behaviours and attitudes towards women, and how they are contributing to the unsafe environment and rape
culture.

Change The Lineup posters call out behaviours, such as all night unwanted staring, cat calling,
or non-consensual persistent advances. Hopefully, they also make men realize how prevalent
these behaviours are, so that they start noticing, calling out and holding their mates accountable.

This particular approach is becoming more popular, as White Ribbon UK, a charity combating
male violence against women through engaging boys and men to take action, has launched a
similar mock festival poster campaign. Their posters call out common problematic behaviours
and encourage men to call out sexism and assault when they witness it. They raise awareness of the prevalence and extent of sexual violence, including drink spiking, cat calling, and groping.
They also bring attention to the feelings that women commonly experience at night music events, including fear and anxiety of the expected and seemingly inevitable harassment and assault.

UN Women UK hopes to gather data and evaluate the efficacy of the new safety measures to
inform and adapt programming for future events. The upcoming Strawberries & Creem event
will hopefully shed more light on what more measures are planned, and whether they are making things better.

I have also spent a lot of time thinking, and talking with friends about what would make events
feel safe. (#1 would be not inviting any cis-het men, but at many events this will be out of our
hands).

Having seen the poster campaigns online, I like the idea of men having to reflect on their
behaviours and be reminded of their responsibility to fight sexual violence, and the culture that
enables it at events. In terms of what event organizers can do, having a lot of female and queer
staff trained in detecting signs of abuse, and trauma would definitley make spaces feel a lot more comfortable. Sober buddies can help keep an eye out, and making sure everyone is having consensual fun can make a big difference.

They could also have posters in the bathrooms with code words you can mention to staff when
you feel unsafe, as well as a number you could text if you need help.

It has also been a while since any new drink spiking test device has made the deadlines. Not
accepting drinks from anyone, and not letting sight of your cup seem to still be the only ways
available to really avoid that one. In many cases, we are still forced to remain hypervigilant – but it is up to men to stop assaulting individuals, and to stop other perpetrators when they see it.

One of the issues remaining is that focusing on women as individuals impacted by sexual violence has the potential of excluding other marginalized groups that also disproportionately experience harassment and assault.

Again, it is important to address the main perpetrators of sexual violence, men, and spend more energy on how toxic masculunity and rape culture enable and perpetruate harmful mindests and behaviours.

What do you think event organizers should be doing to prioritize women’s safety?