I often have a strange feeling when walking alone at night that the men I pass are just as aware of the unequal power arrangement between us as I am. Sometimes they smirk, sometimes they look uncomfortable; most of the time they avoid eye contact.
To avoid that anxiety, women are taught to walk purposefully, look straight ahead or avoid those situations all together. And I have often wondered if men ever do anything to change the situation into a safer one. About a week ago, I got a very welcome answer.
I was walking home late at night and decided to take the stairs that run from West Washington Street to the top of Depot Street. Those wooden stairs, poorly lit and surrounded by trees, are rather creepy at 2 a.m. But it was cold and that was the quickest way for me to get home.
As I made my way down, I heard male voices and saw some figures sitting on the bench halfway down the stairs. I paused and briefly considered going back up the stairs, then continued walking. When I passed the people on the bench, one of the men made eye contact with me. He smiled, and said in a friendly voice, Hi
how are you?
I was so surprised, I didn't respond right away. Had it happened at two in the afternoon, it would have been completely normal. But when I'm used to men acting smug or uncomfortable at night, I was pleased that this stranger said something in a tone of voice that was obviously meant to make me feel safer.
Now, I don't know if that's the best thing to do in every situation. There are probably times when a strange man saying How ya doin'? would make a women feel distinctly uncomfortable. But in this case, with those dark bushes on either side of me, it put me at ease and I was able to go down the rest of the stairs without wanting to glance behind me. Instead of making me alter my route, look past him or brandish my pepper spray, he contributed to making the situation feel safer.
All too often, the burden of stopping or avoiding sexual assault is put on women's shoulders. We're told to know self-defense, to watch our drinks, not to be alone in dangerous areas (and sometimes not to be alone at all). But those aren't solutions; they're just short-term remedies. The long-term solution is that we try to develop a culture in which women shouldn't have to feel nervous when they're alone and rape is not nearly as prevalent as it is now.
Those tips for avoiding or dealing with sexual assault are of course important. Melissa Bruen, editor of the University of Connecticut's student newspaper, recently wrote a piece about how she was sexually assaulted on her campus as other men cheered. Bruen said she fought back until she was able to break free. A close friend of mine was raped when we were in high school by a guy she had just started dating. Perhaps if she knew how to throw punches like Bruen, she could have escaped.
But the important point is that there shouldn't be the need for self-defense, because rape should never happen. The onus shouldn't be on my friend for not knowing self-defense. The onus should be on her date for taking advantage of the fact that she didn't.
While those tips are worthwhile, over-emphasizing them may imply that rape is an inevitable part of the world around us, which women should learn to deal with. Blaming the victim becomes common. Women (and men) read news stories about rape and think that it could never happen to them because they know how to be safe. Or they think that those women deserve it because of the way they dress or act.
I'm reminded of a sign a friend of mine told me about. It was above a urinal and it said, Stop Rape! You hold the power in your hands. We need more men to understand, like that stranger on the stairs did, that they can play an equal part in making women feel safer, too.
Amanda Teuscher is a senior journalism and political science major. Send her an email at at156604@ohiou.edu.
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Amanda Teuscher
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